Page 58 of Dirty Air
When the cast is finished and the doctor excuses himself, Dieter whips out a marker and signs the front of it. “I’m the most famous person you know, after all.”
“Oh yeah? What have you done?”
“I trained a Formation 1 driver.” Dieter adds extra flourishes under his signature, taking up more space. “I made him eat vegetables and now his neck is enormous.”
The medical center gives Fritz crutches, but nurses wheel him to the front of the building while Dieter calls the team for a ride back to the paddock.
Fritz has no idea where his dad has run off to, but he can figure himself out.
The medical center is tucked away pretty well, but there’s asmall group of fans and photographers outside who cheer once they see Fritz. Their phones and cameras raise at the same time.
The transition from wheelchair to crutches isn’t as bad as Fritz thought it would be, though he hates that he has an audience to watch him stumble with it.
Despite his dickishness, Dieter helps as best as he can, laying a bracing hand on Fritz’s back, just in case he slips.
It takes a few steps to understand the timing and when to lift, but Fritz figures it out by the time he reaches the crowd.
The fans all talk at him at once with the odd random happy screaming. It doesn’t help the migraine, but the general consensus is that everyone’s happy he’s okay.
Fritz signs a few items and leans over for selfies with people until the team car arrives. It takes some maneuvering to climb in, but he’s grateful when the sliding door of the van shuts out the noise.
“You’re a good person, Fritzy.” Dieter manages the crutches, shoving the long poles over the armrest and into the footwell of the seat in front of him. “Not every driver stops for fans. Breaking a bone is a pretty good excuse to be a little bit of an asshole.”
“Nah.” Fritz doesn’t need to mention that having any fans at all is still a new experience for him. “Besides, greeting fans is all I’ll be good for over the next six to eight weeks.”
“Like this isn’t a perfect opportunity to try new upper body and mobility exercises.” Dieter scoffs. “We’ll keep an eye on your progress, but the fracture looked very minimal. We’ll see what a German doctor says in four weeks.”
God, Fritz loves Dieter.
Media swarms them as soon as they’re back in the paddock.
“Let him breathe!” Dieter commands as he pushes back some of the more aggressive reporters.
“Do you think your injury could put a dent in your negotiations with Red Boar and Mercenary?”
Well, considering Fritz’s father received a text from Adam delaying their meeting to some undefined later date, it’s very likely.
When Fritz stops hobbling, microphones are immediately shoved in his face. “I wanted to show both teams what I could do this weekend. I am disappointed that this is how it ended, but accidents happen. It is a dangerous sport, and now I am going to focus on recovery.”
“What does recovery look like for you?”
“My doctor prescribed bratwurst, hamburgers, and schnitzel, so these will be my first priority.”
Dieter scoffs. “He’ll be training his upper body.”
“With schnitzel.”
Fritz stumbles his way to the VFIBR garage and sends Dieter into his driver’s room to collect his personal things. He doesn’t want to make a big deal of it, but when they’re spotted, they’re greeted with a round of applause and far too much hugging and back-patting for someone new to crutches.
A mechanic hoists Fritz up onto a counter, so everyone can take turns signing his cast without him falling over. As soon as the first dick is drawn, the rest of the free space is covered with them.
“Now no one will publish photos of it,” someone reasons, like they’re doing him a favor.
Fritz lifts his head for a dramatic eye roll and accidentally catches Henry’s eye.
For a moment, time stops. Overlapping voices fade to the background as Fritz flashes back to the crash site. The fear in Henry’s voice. The desperation from both sides to communicateacross their disconnected radios—to let the other know everything will be alright.
Henry’s eyes break the connection, flicking down to Fritz’s cast. He frowns and the moment is gone, just as quickly as it started.
