“Give it your best out there.” Sucking in a breath, I changed to Bianca’s channel. “Mic check, Rossi.”
“Got it,” she replied tersely. It wasn’t a structured response, but I let it go. She’d confirmed the channel was operating correctly and I wasn’t about to start arguments over petty shit. I got the sense there were going to be plenty of serious things that Bianca and I were going to butt heads over without looking for trouble.
The roar of the cars’ engines as they pulled out onto the track was deafening, even with our headphones on and the team turned in their seats to watch as Rossi and Harrington taxied past us on their way to the starting grid.
Carlos caught my eye and smiled. “Here we go.”
I nodded, turning my attention to the screens on the pit wall. There was a plethora of information available to me and the race engineers here – GPS tracking, a weather radar, in–depth telemetry of each of the cars, and on race day, the live feed shown on television. Everything we could wish to know about the cars was shown here which would help us guide our drivers and get the best out of the spectacular piece of engineering that a formula one car was. We watched the feeds as both Harrington and Rossi did a couple of slow warm up laps, getting heat into their tyres ahead of the high–speed tests to come.
As they pulled back into the grid, coming to a halt, I opened both drivers’ communication channels. “Alright, clean laps, no messing around. Let’s just see what’s what and if anything needs tweaking before Las Vegas.”
“Received.”
“Copy.”
The lights on the gantry above the cars illuminated one by one, counting down for the standing start.
Five, four, three, two… one! Lights out!
The din of the two cars as they roared off the line sent vibrations through my body. Within seconds they were out of earshot, cruising around the circuit at breakneck speeds. I adored this sport, it gave me chills every time, and yet I couldn’t fathom the bravery and the grit those women had to be able to throw a glorified go–kart into a corner at speeds of two–hundred kilometres an hour plus.
“Numbers are looking good,” Carlos muttered beside me. “Cars are holding up well.”
“Pleased?” I smiled at him.
“That’s a question best suited for you, isn’t it, boss?” he laughed.
I turned back to the screens, frowning as I noticed Rossi pulling away from Harrington at a startling rate. “Christ, she’s gunning it.”
“She’s Bianca Rossi. It’s what she does.” Carlos smirked with a shrug. “She’s a machine, but I’d wager she’s a machine with a point to prove this morning.”
I watched the screens, marvelling at how easy Bianca was making driving the ferocious car look. I knew they were hell to handle, and the G–force alone was tough to withstand, and yet she continued to give it her all. I felt my stomach churn as I realised how much the McLaren team needed Rossi. We couldn’t let a monster like her go to another team. It would be the end of us. My mouth set in a grim line –damn it.
The first lap was over in the blink of an eye and Rossi’s car screamed past us on the pit wall at the speed of light, followed by Harrington a moment or two later.
“DRS is enabled,” I informed both drivers, all the while knowing it would be a miracle if Sophia managed to get close enough to her teammate to be in with a chance of using it. This time, neither driver responded, but that was forgivable. The levels of concentration required to race one of these cars was immense. It was a promise of mine to whichever team I worked with that I would keep radio chatter to a minimum and let the drivers focus on their race; a game plan that rarely failed me.
“She isflyingtoday,” Carlos muttered beside me. “Maybe you should tear a strip off Rossi more often. You’ve lit a fire under her this morning.”
“If only it were that easy, hm?” I joked, watching the numbers on the screen. “At least we know the car is on point.”
“Well, it’s working for Rossi at least.”
We watched the drivers around the track a few more times before I’d seen enough. I opened the channels up once more.
“Alright, bring them in. Good job.”
“Copy.”
“Received, thank you,” Sophia gasped, sounding exhausted.
The pit wall team and I removed our headsets, setting them down before walking around to meet the drivers back in the garages. We arrived just in time to see Rossi and Harrington pulling in.
Both women clambered out of their cars and whilst Sophia took a moment to chat with her car’s engineer, Rossi ripped her helmet and hood off, making a beeline for me with a face like thunder. I steeled myself for what was coming.
“Thatis why you need me on this team,” Bianca snapped, tucking her helmet under her arm. She raised her chin, her eyes alight as she stared me down defiantly. God, this woman was fierce – and a royal pain in the arse.
“I’m man enough to concede that you’ve done a great job out there this morning,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.A shit–eating grin spread across Bianca’s face, and I scowled. “But I meant what I said. I don’t care if you’re Maddie Michaels – you fuck with me and question my authority in this team again, and you’re out… but know that’s not the outcome either of us wants.”
