Page 18 of Racing for Redemption
"You don't understand. Foster is—" I hesitate, trying to find the right words. "He's complicated. Talented, but volatile. And if he's reaching out now, through his manager..." I trail off, my mind racing ahead to implications and possibilities.
Anna studies my face, her initial annoyance softening into understanding. "You think he's considering signing with you? The guy who publicly called you incompetent?"
"I never said he was consistent," I reply with a wry smile. "But yes, that's my guess. And if I'm right, this could be huge for the team."
Anna sighs dramatically, but the corners of her mouth are twitching. "Fine. Tell me why this hot-headed driver is worth cutting our vacation short."
I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "Foster is... exceptional. His race craft is instinctual, almost supernatural. He sees gaps that don't exist and somehow makes them work. His qualifying pace is consistently among the best in F2, and his wet weather driving is..." I shake my head, remembering a particularly impressive performance at a rain-soaked Silverstone. "It's something else."
"Sounds like you admire him," Anna observes, her tone deliberately neutral.
"Professionally, yes," I admit. "He possesses raw talent that can't be taught. But personally?" I grimace. "He's abrasive,hot-blooded, and has the emotional regulation of a toddler on a sugar high."
Anna laughs at that. "Charming."
"The thing is," I continue, warming to my subject, "he's been stuck in F2 for a while. Not because he lacks ability, but because he had major altercations in the paddock that penalized him. And this year… Well, what happened was weird. Word in the paddock is that no one wants him."
"So, he's talented, but difficult and overlooked," Anna summarizes. "I can see why you might relate to him."
I shoot her a look. "I amnothing likeWilliam Foster."
"Aren't you? Talented, underestimated, passionate about racing to the point of obsession... You can become violent if people steal sweets from you…" She ticks off points on her fingers. "Plus, you both have something to prove."
"That's different," I protest, though something uncomfortable stirs in my chest at the comparison.
"If you say so." Anna's tone makes it clear she doesn't believe me. "So, this potential driver who is definitely nothing like you—what would signing him mean for Colton Racing?"
I pause, considering the question seriously. "Best case? He delivers performances that attract attention and sponsorship. He helps us develop the car faster with better feedback. We move up the grid, maybe even fight for points consistently."
"And worst case?"
I grimace. "He clashes with the team, crashes the car repeatedly, and publicly blames me for every failure while demanding to be released from his contract."
Anna whistles low. "High risk, high reward."
"Welcome to Formula 1," I say dryly.
She studies me for a long moment, then sighs in defeat. "When would we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning?" I suggest tentatively. "That would still give us tonight. We could do that seafood dinner we talked about, maybe hit one more beach club..."
Anna shakes her head, but she's smiling now. "Only you would negotiate for one more night of fun before rushing back to work." She reaches over to squeeze my hand. "But I get it. This is important."
Relief washes through me. This is why Anna has been my closest friend for over two decades—she understands the core of who I am, even the parts I sometimes wish I could change.
"I'll make it up to you," I promise.
"I'm holding you to that." She picks up her book again. "Now, are you going to reply to his text, or just anxiously stare at your phone for the rest of the afternoon?"
I laugh, already typing a response:Meeting Monday, 10 AM at Colton HQ. I look forward to discussing matters with you and Mr. Foster.
"There," I say, setting my phone down decisively. "Now, I can relax."
Anna snorts. "Liar. You're already planning what to wear to intimidate him, aren't you?"
She knows me too well.
"Maybe," I admit. "But I promise to be present for our last night in Bali. No morework talk."
