Page 39 of Not So Fast
By lap ten, Mia was juggling too much—trying to play referee between her mom and her aunt, all while watching the race, keeping track of where Xander was, and entertaining her guests. For someone who simply wasn’t super outgoing, this was a lot.
Her mom leaned into her. “I still can’t believe you invited her.”
Mia glanced at her aunt, who might not have heard that, but was probably figuring it out, anyway. “Mom. She introduced me to the sport.”
“And now we know why. She was some sort of race-car driver groupie.”
Some people might call me that, too.
“She listens to the podcast. She’s supportive of what I do. And I think you should talk to her.”
“That’s not happening.”
Mia turned to focus on the TV, something she’d been struggling to do for the entire race. People kept coming up to her and trying to have a conversation. She was incredibly thankful, but it was draining, and Mia knew there would be more of it later.
* * *
“Keep on the offensive, Xander. And mind your tires. If you can,” Xander’s race engineer said.
I can do one or the other, but not both, Xander wanted to scream. “Understood.”
Twenty laps in and his race was sheer misery. Stacked behind other cars. No opportunities to overtake. And a car that was finicky as fuck. Understeer was no longer the problem. Now he was stuck with oversteer. It was like driving on an ice rink. Maybe it was a good thing Mia hadn’t come. He certainly didn’t think he’d have anything to brag about today.
* * *
The announcers hadn’t said anything about Xander in several laps, but Mia could tell from the driver lineup on-screen that he was still in eleventh place. He’d moved up, but only one position, and only because another driver had a reliability issue and had to retire from the race. She was sure he was disappointed. She was sure he was longing. And how could he not? Monza had gone so well. He thought he was on a better trajectory. She stared at the screen, willing something good to happen. He was so close to being in the points and only a few more laps to go.
Come on, Xander. Just one car to pass. It’s Hubbard ahead of you. Piece of cake. You’re such a better driver. I believe in you.
* * *
“Tell me I can do this,” Xander said to his race engineer.
“Keep on Hubbard. You can close the gap in the tunnel. Take him at the chicane.”
Sounded simple enough, but of course, Xander knew it wasn’t that easy. He was about to have his chance, but the opportunity would last only a second or two. If he couldn’t manage the move, he’d have to wait one more lap. And he was running out of laps.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose.Focus. Positivity. Be one withCharles. Let the race come to you. Do what you did in Monza.
The problem was that Monaco was not Monza. It was almost impossible to overtake another car. He took the turn at Massenet a little too tight. It was like he couldfeelthe barrier through the car.That was close.There was no time to lose focus. He took turn four at the casino perfectly. He kept his eyes glued to Hubbard’s rear wing. Through the winding hairpin of Mirabeau. He was right on Hubbard’s ass. So close.
And then. Just like that. He was spinning.
* * *
“Oh, my word!” the TV announcer with his booming British accent proclaimed. “That’s amassiveshunt for Xander Bishop! His race is surely over!”
Mia saw it all in slow motion. Everyone in the bar gasped. Mia bolted up out of her seat, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes darting back and forth across the screen. She’d never felt more helpless. Ever. Xander wasn’t moving.
“Are you okay?” his engineer asked as the team radio feed was broadcast on television.
A grunt came in response. Mia knew by now—that was Xander’s grunt. He made similar noises when he was…in the throes of phone sex. She blew out a breath. At least he was alive.
“Yeah. I’m okay,” he finally said.
Mia dropped down into her seat. “Oh, thank God.”
“He’s the driver who flew you to Italy, isn’t he?” Aunt Judy asked.
