Page 43 of Drive Me Wild
Gray thunderclouds multiplyand roll across the sky, covering all evidence that it was sunny an hour ago. I duck into the motorhome a few seconds before the rain starts at full force, blurring the scenery outside the glass windows.
“Walker! Over here,” a voice calls out.
I turn around and spot my manager camped out in the front corner of the cafeteria. Making my way over to him, my eyes narrow in on the pastrami sandwich near his right hand.
“Nice job out there today, mate,” Martin greets me as I approach. “Your lap time was killer.”
I turn a chair around and sit, my chest against the back, legs spread eagle on either side of the seat. “Why thank you, kind sir. You gonna finish that?” Before he can respond, I grab the remaining half of the sandwich from his plate. Chef Albie’s deli sandwiches always hit the spot and qualifying tends to work up my appetite.
Martin rolls his eyes but doesn’t chastise me. Instead, he pulls out a manila envelope from his briefcase. My McAllister contract. Pieces of lean-cut pastrami fall out of my mouth.
“I’ve highlighted the areas you should look at,” Martin says, pushing me the document. “And before you panic, remember that we’re going to negotiate.”
Shit.
Section I. Article II.
[Term Clause]
After completing the one (1) year Contract term, the Contract between McAllister Racing and Theodore Walker automatically terminates, although is subject to the renewal option of Contract to the parties.
Only one year? My original contract with McAllister was for five years. Five. Before I had even driven for them, they knew they wanted me long-term. Now they’re only guaranteeing one more season?
Section III.
[Social Media Policy]
The McAllister Racing marketing team will handle [Theo Walker]’s social media [including, but not limited to Instagram, X, LinkedIn, Facebook, TikTok] for all content involving McAllister Racing, their sponsors, and/or their brand-related deals to protect shareholder interest. Furthermore, any social media posts that are deemed controversial will result in a $10,000 fine for [Theo Walker].
C’mon. Seriously? They want to baby proof my account? It’s not like I post myself snorting cocaine while wearing a McAllister T-shirt. I don’t even like drugs! I’ve bawled my eyes out every time I’ve smoked or done an edible.
Section VI. Article X.
[Sponsorship and Endorsements Clause]
McAllister Racing sponsorships supersede individual sponsorships and endorsements. No overlap will be permitted. Including but not limited to sponsorships in these areas: beverage companies, sportswear brands [footwear/activewear], sporting goods [gear and equipment], electronics maker.
My largest and favorite personal sponsors are sportswear and sporting goods. Not only do they want to screw me out of millions, but they want me to ruin relationships I’ve worked hard to cultivate. Lovely.
Section XII. Article III.
[Code of Practice]
During pre-race practice and qualifying periods, there will be no restriction on the efforts of either driver. In the designated Grand Prix circuit, for the interest of point aggregation, the Number One car will be expected to finish the race ahead of the second car. For this purpose, the support car will accept that no passing maneuver will be attempted unless the Number One driver has suffered mechanical issues or if given a clear signal from the pits.
My hands shake as I put the contract down. “This isn’t a contract, Martin. This is a prison sentence.”
It’s not uncommon for a team principal to order a car to move aside during a race—whether it’s for safety or strategy—but to make me sign something that says that’ll beeveryrace is demeaning to me and my talent. It’s saying I’m not the best and I never will be. It’s fucking personal.
“Other than those areas, it’s a great offer, Theo.” Martin gives me a tight-lipped smile. “You’ll receive a nice bonus, plus performance bonuses, and an increased percentage in corporate sponsorships.”
“A great offer?” I say loudly. A few people look in our direction, but I don’t care. I’m heated. “They’re not only fucking locking me out of my accounts, but they’re also fucking me out of millions and my existing relationships! And fucking me up the?—”
“Theo,” Martin says sharply. “Calm down. We’re going to counter-offer. When was the last time you ever signed a contract without changing half of the shit on it?”
I take a beat to think about it. “Never.”
“Exactly. We’ll get this to where you want it to be, okay?”
