Page 33 of Homecoming

I also prayed we didn’t get a repeat performance of the last race.

Just as he was about to swerve to pass him, Max came so close to Ian’s car, their tires almost touched, and as Max sped up, he made a flick to the right, getting the reaction he wanted from Ian as he spun his car in a few horrifying circles before he got control again.

I was ready to climb the walls, but over the headphones, there was only silence.

After a few beats, Ian’s infuriated voice came through. “What the fuck is he doing? It’s almost like he wants to put me into the wall.”

“Henry is talking to him as we speak. It’ll be okay. He’ll get him to stand down,” Kevin said flatly.

I could see him from where I stood. He was sitting at the high table across the road of the pit lane, facing the track. His legs were bouncing on the peg of the stool, and he was looking at the man sitting on his right, and I could tell he was angry. For him to talk calmly to Ian in such a heated moment was impressive.

“Kevin, I don’t give a fuck who his daddy is. This shit needs to stop.” His words were choppy as if he had to use all his calm to speak them.

But Kevin continued addressing him in that calm voice. “Agreed.”

That night, after a vigorous love-making session, we were both trying to catch a breath, and I got curious. But I decided to start small. “How can Kevin talk to you in that calm voice when the situation is highly stressful?”

“Because it’s his job, and because I depend on him doing it.”

I could feel him shrugging his shoulders on the bed.

“What do you mean?” I looked at him in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Imagine what would happen if he let on what he’s feeling, instead trying to get me calm.”

The thought of it was unbearable.

Ian continued, “He’s the one who keeps me on my track to the win.”

“So, he’s doing his job right,” I teased.

“Yes, he is,” he said seriously. “It’s what we have to do, or we’re out.”

“What do you mean?”

“In Formula One, there is no middle ground. It was always black or white. Either you were high as it gets, or you were so low, you think there is no climbing back up. And for the first time, I’m in the middle. The season started so good, I was sure I was on the track to get the third championship.” He turned onto his side, facing me. “I need to climb back up somehow. I can’t mess this up.”

“What do you have to prove?” I whispered, dreading his answer.

“That I belong here,” he stated, like it was obvious.

He looked like a scared little boy, hoping that, for the first time, he would get one of his wishes to come true. My heart broke for him at that moment.

He resembled the Ian from my childhood. Scared and lost, standing on the edge, and hoping someone would see him for him, and give him a hand.

I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and promise him everything would be all right.

“But, Ian, baby, you not only belong here, you own the game.”

“You say that because no matter the level of your access, you’re still on the outside. All you see is the glamour of it, the dream they want you to see.” Sadness crept into his voice. A sadness I desperately wanted to erase. “But, scratch the surface just a little, and everything comes apart. This life, the Formula One world? It’s like an apple. All red and shiny on the outside, but rotten at the core.”

I knew he meant Max and his father. That situation was nepotism at its finest, and there was nothing anyone could do.

If they refused to obey, they would find themselves sitting at the curb on their asses, and that included Ian, too. No matter the stardom, and the money that rolled in because of him. There was one fact that was absolute in that world. Drivers rotated and rolled out like they were expendable. Because, the sad truth was, they were.

Only the great ones left their mark and solidified their positions. I couldn’t figure out how Ian couldn’t see he was one of the greats.

“That may be, but still. I don’t understand how that applies to you. You’re one of the best, if not the best,” I stated, hoping he would listen.