Speaking of whom, he’s not so far ahead of me. Sprinting down the flight of stairs, I slow down my pace when I reach him, our shoulder’s touch abruptly.
“A misunderstanding, huh? I guess you’re already regretting recruiting me then.” He rolls his eyes.
“I never said that, Miss Castillo. What I meant by misunderstanding is that you think I’m your age. With the same thoughts as you, I’m not saying I haven’t experienced the same things in my career. I have, especially since I started out around the same age. But don’t forget, I’m eighteen years older, which means that I think more in the moment and about the consequences of my actions. I’m not the hothead I used to be, which is fine. But don’t make it sound like we have the same thinking strategy because it is clear that we don’t. I am neither your friend nor your enemy; I’m your boss. To me, the thing that I’m most interested in from you is driving. Nothing more, nothing less. Do what you’re best at. Drive that car as fast as you fucking can.”
ChapterEleven
Maria Alejandra
Bahrain is a successful first race of the year.
I ended up in P2 alongside Xavier in P1.
I know what my abilities are, which means I know I’m faster than Xavier. But I can always do better, train harder, and ultimately be more consistent.
I walk into what I like to call the strategy room, the space is shaped into a rectangle that sits on the top floor just below the terrace of Elektra’s paddock building. Multiple tables are lined up horizontally against the wall and in the middle of the room to form a square. On each individual table, the computers sit on the desks with their own separate keyboards and mouse just below the monitor.
The strategy room is where everyone that plays a big part in the team’s dynamic come together to go over each grid before racing.
Once the race is over, we come in here to see what can be done to improve. We learn from our mistakes and ensure that they don’t happen again.
Sitting down in the chair, I wait for the rest of the team to join me. Looking down at my phone, I realize I’m fifteen minutes early. Shrugging, I start scrolling through Instagram and decide to post a picture that was taken of me on the podium about an hour ago. I think about the caption for a minute and land on:
“An amazing way to start off the season. A one, two for Elektra at our first race of the calendar, already fighting for that championship, baby.”
I hit post and repost on my stories, deciding to post a separate story in the strategy room. With a smirk on my face, I take the photo, test some filters out and put text on top.
“Strategy Time.”
Smiling to myself, I find a song to put over the pic. Deciding on “Yo Perreo Sola” by Bad Bunny, I click post and put my phone down just as Xavier walks in. I smile at him, and he returns it, plopping down in the chair next to me.
“That was quite the race, wasn’t it?” he questions.
“Yeah. That’s a one, two, baby.” Both our faces are overtaken by massive smiles and we high five in bliss.
“You know, we should make a hand shake so that every time we achieve something, we have a ritual.” An expression of realization spreads across his face, giving his gaze a hint of mischief along with it.
“I’m down. After we’re done with this meeting, we can figure it out.”
“I have so many ideas. This is going to sound cheesy, but at this point I don’t care. My last teammate was extremely competitive, and we never really spoke. Not often anyway, that man was a grump. I’m ready for a banging handshake, so you better keep that promise.” He points at me with a smile, and I chuckle at him.
“What critiques do you think they’re going to have, after all, we did get first and second today.”
“They always have critiques because there’s always something that can be done to get better. I slid on a curve out there, so I think it’s going to be cool to see Luca’s take. I mean we also have to look at Dupuis and Sansui’s progress on track. Amir looked really fast and so did Ren. Looking at their weaknesses will help.”
“Having Mr. Donatello in the room will make us realize our mistakes. That being said, I don’t think he will let go of any of them.” I frown up at him.
“I don’t understand why you guys don’t like each other to be honest. Luca has been through a lot, especially in F1. After all, he is a part of a wealthy family who basically gave him never ending pressure to be the best. It’s not like he didn’t have that already stemming from himself, we know how it is. Imagine being forced into a marriage and then having to carry such a weight like F1 on your back.” He shrugs.
Forced? What the fuck does he mean by forced? Like obligated, mandatory, required to be in a marriage with someone?
“What do you mean by forced?” I raise my eyebrows in confusion.
“You don’t know?”
“What do you mean by ‘you don’t know’?” I respond with curiosity.
“I forgot you haven’t been in F1 long enough. I only found out recently when he became our team principal. It will never be put out on the internet, but Luca is a part of a generational Italian name. The Donatellos are known for their hatred of organized crime. During previous generations, they were the only families with status in Italy who were not involved in the mafia. It’s not something you see often. Even Gucci had connections to the mafia at some point. But basically, when he and Adele got together, they were lost in one another. They would never be seen apart, so to speak. People remark that he smiled more with her than he had in his life. Let me tell you, it’s hard to make that man smile. Even I can’t do it that often, let alone every day. He was whipped, basically. His family saw it as leverage, especially since the Manon family is incredibly well known in the fashion world. Thus—”