Page 38 of Red Queen
“And Asher?”
“Asher is 2.2 in front. About six laps until you reach him.” Well, amazing. I’ll have 10 laps to overtake the three-time world champion. “His front left is not doing well, apparently.”
“Thanks. But mine, neither.”
It’s a little reassuring that not only are my front tires starting to grain, but it’s still not helping me much. I step on the accelerator, now focusing on protecting my tires while cutting down the gap.
“Hayes overtook Huck, now 2.8 behind.” Seriously? I didn’t expect anything else, but this didn’t come at the best time. Three seconds seem a lot until I start fighting Asher, and Hayes closes up on us.
As Wiley expected, I reached Asher by the 56th lap, and now I’m pushing like hell, trying to outsmart him, attempting every single trick I know to overtake him as soon as possible. We don’t need Hayes in our asses. At least I don’t.
Our car is faster than Atlas’, but it’s goddamn Asher Dilan sitting in that car, which basically equals our chances. I have the better car, and he has a better brain. He’s standing in second place in the world championship for a reason.
I attack him from time to time, without success so far, and we only have five laps left. It’s now or never.
“Time on Hayes?” I ask, driving over the checkered line, completing another lap.
“Currently 1.4, 1.4.” Fuck. He’s getting closer and closer, and if I don’t look out, he’ll be the one fighting me.
Asher’s right in front of my eyes, and when I try to go past him at one of the corners, he cuts back, obviously. He’s not letting me pass easily. We complete another lap, and I’m right at his ass when I go and try to overtake him again.
This is the best corner. If he goes to defend on the left, I can undercut him on the right side if I step on the gas at the right time.
As I get closer to that corner, he does just what I want him to: defending the left side. And as if God also wants me to win, Asher goes so left that his car bounces on the chicane, which slows him down, and I manage to overtake on the right side.
“Yes! There we go! Vamos, Mateo, only two and a half laps left!” I hear the cheers on the radio, and as much as I’d love to celebrate with them, I have to focus on those two laps.
Asher won three times for a reason, and while Hayes most probably won’t have a chance to overtake him anymore, Asher can come back on me. And he’s one sneaky dude.
I’m still holding my breath when I see the checkered flag in front of me, leaving the last straight part, and I’ll win. Asher doesn’t give up; he’s practically brushing my rear tires, and as his car manages to come up beside me, I know I have to give everything.
My front tires have gone to shit while I was fighting with him, so I mutter a prayer for them to hold on. Asher’s car is almost reaching mine, scooting higher and higher next to me as we’re speeding towards the finish line.
We finally reach it, but there’s silence around us. Puta…
“Who won? Who the fuck won, Wiley?”
“Our data shows that your car was 48 centimeters ahead of Asher’s, but we need the FIA to confirm it.”
We go around, waving for the fans while we’re waiting for the verdict. We finally stopped on the pit lane, parking our cars, but neither of us knew which place to take. We stay in the car until I hear Wiley’s voice in my ear.
“You won, Mateo! You won!”
24
MATEO
After the grand celebration on the podium and congratulating the others, even after the multiple interviews, I head back to the hospitality suite, walking around the paddock, when I see Rosa standing in front of it.
“You’ve been waiting for me?” I smirk as I approach her, ushering her inside, away from prying eyes.
“Well, I should congratulate you. That was a good job you did out there.” At first, I thought she’s joking, but there’s honesty in her voice.
“Why, thank you. At least you’re honest now.” She rolls her eyes at my answer, and I just chuckle at her reaction. I’m not letting this go for a while. Doesn’t matter how attracted I am to her.
“You wanted to talk. So then talk.”
I point in front of us, as a way of asking her to continue this in my driver’s room. I ain’t want anyone to spy on us.
