Page 6 of Dirty Air
Fritz’s seat on the counter is close to the entryway and, as the team trickles in, he greets them. “Hallo, Antonio.Hallo, Rebecca.”
No one attempts to hide their shock as they parrot the greeting back to him. More than one person looks behind themselves before realizing Fritz is actually addressing them.
“Glad you made use of the book.” Henry leans against Fritz’s counter, his face buried in his notebook. “With your reputation, I thought it would’ve gone directly into the garbage.”
“Do not listen to the rumors. I recycle.”
Henry’s head snaps up, but Fritz’s face is already rearranged into a serious, solemn expression. He raises a questioning eyebrow, but Henry just turns away.
The meeting starts and the leads take turns discussing changes to the car, reiterating the new rules for the season, and introducing newteam members. There’s a little push to hype the garage up, but it’s mostly just technical talk, which Fritz can stomach a lot easier than the mess at the factory.
The mic is passed to him and for a moment he’s slightly disoriented. For the first time, he looks out at the crowd and he knows everyone’s names. “Hallo, everyone.”
It’s almost like he’s speaking to a group of friends, even if it’s for the very first time. “A lot has been said already. They made me go last—leave me with no new words to use.”
Henry finally chuckles, and a couple of people take the cue that it’s supposed to be a joke.
“They did not use the words ‘last year we were bad’ so I will say them. They also forgot to say ‘this year we will win’, so I will claim those too. This will be the year VFIBR tastes champagne, and Garage 34 will be the team to do so.”
See? He can pretend wins are possible. What a team player.
There’s scattered applause, which is a better response than Fritz usually receives when he speaks to a group. Henry gives him a clap on his shoulder, rubbing it, when he takes the microphone back.
The touch lingers.
When the rest of the team disperses for lunch, Henry stops Fritz with a light hand on his sternum. “Wait here for a second, I asked for some time with Marketing.”
“Marketing?” Fritz's nerves zero in on the hand, how broad it feels against his tightening chest.
“You should work with them—find out what they need in order to post you more often.”
Henry's hand falls away as the last of the crew leaves, and Fritz misses the warmth of it immediately. “I do not use social media.”
“You should. If you want Red Boar to take notice, you’ll need to be more popular.” Henry secures his bag strap and holds thedoor open for Fritz. “You have the fewest followers of anyone on the grid. They’ll take that into consideration.”
What a farce. “Teams do not hire drivers for being popular online.”
”Brands do. Sponsors want athletes who have an audience, and top teams want drivers who can bring in both money and points. We’ll work on the points, but in the meantime, you should cozy up to the marketing department.”
“Are you my manager now?” Fritz huffs. “My father never had a social media account.”
“Your father raced over twenty years ago. Times change.”
The marketing department is already seated around a long, oval table by the time they arrive. The six of them have laptops open in front of them, but their focus is on the phones they hunch over. When Henry closes the door, their heads pop up in unison.
Once again, Fritz recognizes some of the faces from his book. It helps him relax.
“How can Friedrich support what’s going on with social media?” Henry asks without preamble. He sits at the end of the table, nearest a large screen that hangs on the wall, and digs out his computer and notebook. “We’d like to increase his popularity as quickly as we can.”
As Fritz takes the last available seat, Henry fumbles to plug the screen's cable into his computer. He opens a browser window to VFIBR’s social media posts and scrolls through.
“William. William. William.” When Henry draws attention to it, it’s much more obvious how many more posts there are of his teammate than of Fritz. “I don’t mean to put anybody on the spot, but the VFIBR channels are a resource I’d like us to use to the best of our ability.”
“I hear you, but there has been some…” Annabel, the marketing manager, side-eyes Fritz. She probably wishesshe could speak freely without him being able to hear it. “Pushback, shall we say?”
“I do not like video recording,” Fritz says for himself. “I do not want to dance or move my lips to people talking. It is not racing to me.”
“But…?” Henry raises his eyebrows and nods his head for Fritz to continue.If you want Red Boar to take notice…
