Page 17 of Dirty Air
There’s another text, from an unsaved number.
Got your number from your sister. Could I catch you before the team meeting?
It’s probably just Madison hoping to shoot something before he’s out on track.
Sure. I am in mydriver’s room.
Fritz’s eyes glance over the phone’s clock and he curses. He should be changed already.
Fritz is down to his boxer briefs when his door opens. He’s an athlete who’s used to being seen in varying stages of undress, but it’s still odd to be standing around in his underwear. “Sorry, I am running late.”
He turns, surprised to see Henry frozen in his doorway. Henry’s stare travels up Fritz’s body to meet his face and he winces when they make eye contact, his cheeks almost pink.
Fritz laughs. “Sorry, Henry, I thought you were the social team. Were you the one who texted me?”
Henry exhales with his entire body. “What kind of content do they have you shooting?”
“Something private,” Fritz says, playing along with a wink. “For the team’s biggest sponsors.”
He grabs the Nomex underwear and steps into it, keeping his back to the door just in case his dick takes an interest in their proximity. Still, he can feel the older man’s gaze like a caress along his back.
He’s probably just projecting. It’s crazy to think that his own race engineer would be sizing him up—looking at himthatway.
The Greatest Driver in the World, his brain unhelpfully provides.
His race suit is fresh-pressed and he rips it off the hanger and steps into the bottom half. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, yeah. Just a warning, really.”
“A warning?” Fritz pulls up the race suit, zipping until the fabric is stable at his waist. He turns around once he’s absolutely sure his dick is hidden under layers of fabric. “Does it have something to do with Craig meeting with my father and I tomorrow morning?”
“He is?” Henry’s eyebrows draw closer together. “I don’t think they’re related. Team 64 fought for tire priority inStrategy this morning, so it might come up again at the team meeting.”
“William already has more upgrades than I do.” Tire priority on top of it all would be unfair.
“Right. I milked the fact that it’s your home race, that your family’s here, but the chief strategist thinks it benefits the team better in the long run for the upgraded car to have every possible advantage. Be ready to put up a fight.”
Fritz tightens his racing shoes before standing again. “What are our advantages?”
Henry steps out of the doorway and holds the door open. So chivalrous. “Again, this is your home track, so play up how well you know it. Despite William being the designated first driver, you’ve outqualified and outdriven him in all three races so far this year.”
“Even with the DNFs?”
“The driving itself was done better, and we have the numbers to prove it. It’s a little bit of a low blow, but if it comes to it, your popularity might play a factor.”
Fritz scoffs. “Popularity?”
“Laugh all you want, but everyone saw that fan video from yesterday. They mentioned it on the broadcast during Free Practice Two. No team wants to fuck over their more popular driver.”
“If social media will keep fresh tires on my car, I will do whatever stupid dance they need me to do.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“You’re the second fastest in sector two, keep pushing.”
“Check the front left tire.” Fritz tried to dodge the debris, but he’s pretty sure he passed over it.
“Some deg, but still good. You’re on track to Q3 with this lap. Watch for track limits at turn sixteen.”
