Page 10 of In the Cockpit

I gave them a thumbs up to say “keep going.”

“Yes,” said Alejandro, “Our team back at the factory did some really great work this year and I think we’re all pleased with how practice went yesterday, so look forward to seeing us out there on the track.”

“Go Smith!” said Jason with a grin.

“Yeah!” cheered Alejandro.

“And cut!” I said. “Good job guys. I’ll take some b-roll of you walking into the circuit and then we’ll get that up and leave you alone until after FP3. Don’t forget that there will be a lot of people asking for autographs and such as we enter so keep to the plan.”

Chapter Eight

Qualifying went well. If you’ve never seen a race it might sound a little confusing, but the standard format is three sessions of trying to set the fastest time around the track. After the first and second sessions the slowest five cars are eliminated. At the end the order in which cars are on the track for the main race is set, with the fastest car starting in the front. Jason was knocked out in the first session, meaning he would start at the back of the grid, but Alejandro qualified in twelfth, so the chances of the team getting into the top ten and scoring some points tomorrow were pretty good.

As was tradition the team went out for dinner, an occasion that was surprisingly low-drama. Both men continued to be on their best behavior and we shot some footage while out to continue to promote their image. It was an early night for us with the race the following day, so when we got back to the hotel suite everyone quickly went to their own rooms, presumably to get ready for bed.

I spent some time looking through comments and footage from various media outlets, breathing a sigh of relief that our ruse seemed to be holding, when I heard a noise from the living room. A quick check of the clock showed that it was getting on towards midnight, so I got up to go check that everything was ok.

When I opened the door I saw Jason once again pacing in front of the window. He stopped when he saw me “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked.

“No,” I said, stepping further into the room. “I was still up. You shouldn’t be though.”

“I know, I know, I just can’t sleep.” he resumed his pacing.

“Nerves?” I asked, crossing to sit on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, I guess. I just – I didn’t have this problem when I drove Formula Two. I’ve always been the confident one. And this was my goal, you know? I should be sleeping. I’m living the dream.”

“Yes, but there’s a lot of pressure. I mean, I’m not a driver, but I’ve worked with a few, and the expectations on you are a lot. You finally get here, you get a seat, but then you have to keep it. None of you really ever get a chance to relax, especially not the rookies. So it makes sense that you would be stressed.”

“I just don’t want to blow it, you know? I have people counting on me. My sister Sarah is so smart and could get any job she wants but she has all this medical debt we are trying to pay off from her illness and if I mess up we could be in a worse spot than we already are.” he ran his hand through his hair and sat on the couch. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.” He leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, head bowed in frustration.

I reached across and put my hand on his thigh, “Listen to me. You’re not letting anyone down. You are here, you drove the car without any incidents in qualifying, and you are making progress convincing everyone you and Alejandro are friends. You can do this. But you need to get some rest.”

He turned to look at me and I was suddenly very aware of him. Of the feel of his muscle under my hand, warm through his thin pants. His eyes were so blue, even in the dim light, that I felt I would fall into them. His face, full of worry before, now full of something hungrier, just inches away from mine. I sat frozen, afraid to move because of the want I felt for this man, a want I knew I should not be feeling.

“You’re right” he said quietly. “I should get some rest. Thanks for talking me down.”

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