Drifting Deception

Chapter Eighteen

HENRY

It was the final race before the break, and I'd never struggled with the car more than now. After a late call into the pitlane, I found myself falling off my own axis. Despite having a fresh set of tyres, I had too much oversteer going into every corner, and my engineer had told me to be careful so that I didn't degrade the rubber so quickly.

I thought he should shut up, as I wasn't degrading them on purpose, I was just trying to stay on the fucking track. I had no idea how Theo almost won last year. I mean, he was in still third this year and I was not far behind in fifth, but there was no way Santoro had produced an almost-championship-winning car. Or maybe it was their strategy that was setting us back this year.

I continued to push through my fortieth lap, trying my hardest to hold on to tenth place. I needed these points, badly.

"You've got an Astro Racing car nine-tenths behind," my engineer said. No, the fuck I didn't. There was no way a car from my old team—who tended to place at the back of the field—was under a second behind me.

"Let me know their times when we're approaching the DRS zone," I muttered. I continued to push as I attempted to widen the gap between me and the competitor. I had just begun my final lap, and like I'd already said, I needed those fucking points.

"They will have DRS," my engineer said right as I found myself slowing down.

"Great," I muttered. I watched in horror as the Astro Racing car passed me with ease. If someone with no Formula One knowledge had just turned on the TV, they would think we were awful in comparison to Astro Racing. They were soaring down the straight.

I now had less than one lap to catch up, overtake and hold my position in tenth. But I wasn't a quitter, not when I had fought so hard to get to where I was today not only for myself, but for my older brother. I'd accepted that I wasn't going to do well this year, but I would've felt like absolute shit if my poor results came from my lack of trying. I wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not ever.

I pushed hard as I turned my car and perfectly completed the fourteenth chicane. The car was close; I was probably only a few thousandths behind him, and any fuck up from either of us would result in one or both of our cars in the wall.

I had some room to push as I began my third sector. I didn't care if I was reckless. I wanted this, more than anything. I closely followed the Astro Racing car, right up until the last turn where I ever so slightly managed to overtake him. I saw the checked flag ahead of me, without the obstruction from the horrible purple car I'd just overtaken, and I pushed.

"Oh thank fuck," I cheered as I flew past the waving flags. "Thank fucking God." Anyone would've called me pathetic for making a big deal over one point. But with the way it was going with the team, one point was enough to convince them that I was doing alright. It gave me leverage...a way to show them I was in this competition, and not falling behind it. I deserved to be at Santoro. Just like everyone driving on this grid deserved to be in a car.

I pulled my car into the pitlane, following the instructions from the race director. Something caught my eye as I wandered past the Santoro garage. It was Sydney, talking and laughing with one of our mechanics. The man who pushed us in the pool after my win in Spain. Such a mundane action would have appeared harmless to anyone witnessing it, had the mechanic not been putting his arm on her shoulder every time he laughed. I couldn't even remember his name, not that I learned the names of everyone I worked with, which was a bad trait in itself. But Mr Laughs A Lot did not need to be putting his hands on my girlfriend—fake girlfriend like that.

"You seriously hadn't been to a Grand Prix before this year?" the man said.

She shook her head. "Nope. Not until Theo convinced me."