Page 59 of Dirty Air
It’s strange not to say anything, so Fritz waves. The mechanics who were in the middle of talking to him turn, noticing Henry for the first time.
“I’ve never heard Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected freak out like that before.”
Henry huffs. “I will not apologize for thinking the worst. You saw the car.”
Elias likes to tease, so he pushes, “Well, he kept pressing the mic button, so he definitely wasn’t dead.”
“Yeah, well…” Even when he looks away, Henry is notably red in the cheeks. “Anything could have happened.”
Butterflies flutter in Fritz’s stomach as he chastises, “Do not pick on Henry.”
“Yeah.” Jeremy turns back to Fritz and pats his knee. “We’reallglad you’re okay, pretty boy. We’re gonna go egg Mercenary later, if you wanna come.”
Fritz laughs, pointing to his wrapped foot. “You just want me to get caught!”
It was a lot easier to lift Fritz onto the counter than it is to get him down. By the time he’s stable enough to stand, most of the guys have returned to what they were doing. Henry’s still there, still waiting.
“I just wanted to apologize in person.”
“For… what?” Fritz looks around. Dieter is still well within listening distance. So are some of the other guys, if they strain hard enough.
Henry isn’t stupid enough to talk about their relationship out in the open, right?
“For the directive,” Henry says. “The late note about the inside corner. If I had warned you earlier, you might not have crashed. It’s my responsibility?—”
“Henry,” Fritz interrupts. “The crash was not your fault. I saw the footage—I don’t think I could have avoided it.”
“Still, I should’ve done better.” Henry looks down at Fritz’s penis-decorated foot cast. “How long are you out for?”
“The next two races, definitely.” Hopefully that’s all.
Though he’s obviously not in their conversation, Dieter still chimes in. “We’ll reassess during the break. You’ll have your boy back in the car in no time.”
Fritz can’t imagine what face he’s making. He isn’t Henry’s boy. He hasn’t been since Hungary.
“I’ll save you a seat on the pit wall,” Henry tells Fritz. “You’ll be able to see what I see and hear what I hear for a couple of races. Maybe it’ll help somehow?”
It beats twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah, I would like that.”
Despite his very,verybad broken bone injury, in Austin, Fritz is still expected to do everything he’d usually do during a race weekend. Meetings, interviews, training, marketing,moreinterviews—everything but drive.
It’s hell.
The only thing he has to look forward to is the meeting Adam rescheduled for after the race.
The VFIBR reserve driver is fine. He’s some fresh-faced Form 2 driver who is too-excited to show the world what he can do in a Form 1 car. Fritz gives him pointers between meetings and, in exchange, the kid opens doors for him and pulls out his chair.
Fritz remembers his own Formation 2 car well enough to prepare him for the difference. The VFIBR is faster, obviously,but also more sensitive. He tries to describe the difference in braking—to trust the brakes even when it feels like he’s going to fly off the road.
Whenever Fritz mentions brakes, the child pointedly looks down at his broken foot before nodding.
The kid has been sim racing and testing Form 1 cars since he was hired, so he’ll be fine even without guidance. Still, since people tend to leave Fritz alone when they see the two of them huddled together, Fritz comes up with any excuse to stay close—even if he’s just describing what he ate that morning.
There’s a fear, buried deep inside of him, that the new kid will show up and blow everyone away, but it quiets after watching his practice runs. He barely qualifies nineteenth, and Fritz thinks even that is impressive for how poorly he drove.
That Sobber in last place must beterrible.
“You’re fidgeting.” Henry stills Fritz’s tapping hand. “Are you nervous for him?”
