Page 77 of Downforce

“If it weren’t for him, I’d have more points on the board now and would be leading the grid instead of in third place.”

The anger in my brother’s voice is palpable. But it’s not his tone that has me concerned. It’s how quiet Tristan has gotten as he watches this exchange between me and Travis.

Out of all of my siblings, Tristan is probably the most perceptive. He’s definitely the most observant out of him and Travis. I have to choose my words carefully.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” I respond to Travis. “What I am trying to remind you is that this is about business and your reputation as a professional. Everyone in this industry is aware of your rivalry with Max. But you’ve also garnered a reputation for being the fair, respectable athlete who doesn’t get involved in petty arguments or tit-for-tats.

“Doing this sponsorship with Max where you two play up your rivalry could help enhance both of your reputations along with Amato’s and bring even more positive attention to the sport.”

“And more money to your bank account,” Tristan adds.

Travis snorts.

“Lucky’s education isn’t going to pay for itself,” I say.

Especially since I fucked up your last deal.

I flinch at the thought that flitters through my mind. I withhold from asking Travis if he’s heard from Luca Taylor yet again. I know he would tell me if he had. A sinking feeling invades my stomach when I come to the conclusion that I lost that deal for my brother.

I can’t let him pass on this one.

“Neither will my wife’s,” Travis finally says.

He’s adamant about funding Alyssia’s doctorate education.

“I’ll reach out to Norm to figure out numbers,” I tell him.

“You should be my agent,” Travis says, offhandedly.

“I’m not cut out to be an agent.” This is my typical response yet there’s a hesitancy in my tone this time around that I don’t quite understand.

“I have to go into the office soon,” Travis says. “Time to watch racing footage.”

Even though the race itself is over, Travis and his team will spend hours going over and evaluating every part of yesterday’s race. The race itself takes only about two hours to complete, they’ll spend more than double that time analyzing everything from racing strategy to the feel of the car on the final turn of the race in order to try to gain some sort of advantage for the next race.

“Oh, hey, before I go,” Travis says. “Did someone call you a bitch?”

I blink, and out of the corner of my eye I see Tristan sit up from his reclined position.

“Who called you a bitch?” he demands.

“No one. What? Where did you get this from?” As soon as the question is out, I already know the answer.

“Dad said someone called you a bitch, but you wouldn’t tell him who.”

“Who the fuck called you a bitch?” Tristan insists.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, sighing.

Here we go.

CHAPTER 22

Max

“How did it feel after switching to the soft tires?” one of my engineers asks as we stand in the team’s spacious facility.

I’m in the building where our cars are stored in between races. After hours of analyzing numbers and giving the engineers and mechanics feedback from this weekend’s race, they continue to ask more questions that the numbers can’t always account for.