A mans world, p.37
A Man's World, page 37
“Thanks, Éliott.” My sniffling had settled down by the time I reached Henri's flat. “I’m gonna go eat a pint of ice cream and watch Atonement.”
“I’ll see you soon. We’ll drink so much on vacation you won’t even remember who Luca Rossi is!”
“Sounds like a plan. Thanks again. Talk later.” As soon as I hung up, I fulfilled my promise to Éliott. I got into my pajamas and crawled into bed with a pint of ice cream, doing whatever I could to ignore my aching heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
FROM GEORGIA, WITH LOVE
Luca
Unfortunately, my parents were not able to make the Austria Grand Prix. My dad was preparing for one of his own races, and my mother had decided to go with him, but we still kept our traditional morning FaceTime call between the three of us. Georgia was down in the lobby having breakfast with Henri, so it was just me chatting with my parents, which was good because I had something I wanted to talk to them about.
As the conversation was starting to come to a close, my mother noticed my hesitancy to hang up.
“Flash, you look like you have something else to discuss?”
“I just…” I paused for a moment, trying to contemplate how to phrase what I wanted to say to my parents. “How did you know Dad was it for you?” My mother chuckled, looking over to my father, who had started to get ready for his day in the background.
“It was a nice day outside, and your father asked if I wanted to go on a walk. When I met him downstairs, I saw that he had two cups of coffee with him. I took a sip of the coffee, and I immediately recognized that the coffee was from my favorite little shop in town. Your father had gone out of his way to get me my favorite cup of coffee for the walk. He even put the right amount of sugar and cream in it, just how I liked it. I didn’t think that your father noticed the small stuff like that. It was such a small gesture, but it truly warmed my heart and made me realize how much I loved him… Why do you ask?”
“I have this feeling that I can’t shake. When I look at Georgia, I just can’t explain it.”
“Oh, Luca, I think you know exactly what that feeling is.” My mother was right. I knew what the feeling was. It was love.
“You need to tell her, Flash. Tell her how you feel because if you don’t, it’ll eat you up inside. Georgia is a special girl, and someone that special won’t wait around forever. But she also needs commitment from you. She needs to know you’re serious about her.”
“I am serious, mamma.” I could see she was pleased with my unspoken decision.
“I see the way you two are when you’re together. Even before this relationship, I felt like Georgia was someone special. Go get your girl, Luca.”
“I will… I will.”
“That’s my boy. We’ll chat afterward. Good luck!” I hung up the phone with my parents and smiled gratefully. Today was the day I was going to tell Georgia Dubois that I loved her.
Georgia
I knew the press conference was going to be brutal, especially since the video of Éliott forcing that man to talk to me had gone viral. The entire paddock was talking about the interaction, and if you hadn’t read the article already, you had now. Lizzie was somewhat furious because it put us back in the forefront of everyone’s minds, but I didn’t care.
Éliott was right. I loved facing my critics because it felt empowering. I wasn’t scared of the fans or the journalists. I was a lioness.
The FIA had decided to switch Luca out of my morning press conference, putting him in the session with Edward instead. I suppose the FIA had decided that the press of Luca and I’s relationship was dampening the actual press of the race, and I was quickly learning that old European men didn’t like to be overshadowed, especially not by a female driver.
I was the last to walk into the press room, and I saw Éliott, Eric, Otto, and Oliver all give me a big smile as if on cue. Their coordination was impressive, and I laughed at them, taking the last open seat, which, of course, was in the middle. Bastards had done that on purpose.
“Right, we’re going to get started with this morning’s first press conference. Welcome to all the drivers. We’re looking forward to a great race here in Austria.”
The beginning of the press conference always consisted of Michael Clifton asking questions to the group of us drivers before he turned it over to the ravenous journalists. As soon it was their turn, I saw a flood of hands in the air, all yelling to get the attention of the mediator.
“Hi, this is Marcus from Sports Broadcasting. Georgia, we heard you and Luca were brought into the FIA offices this morning. Anything to report on that?” I was told that the meeting was private, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that the news had spread like wildfire.
“Marcus, I think you know I can’t comment on private FIA meetings,” I scoffed in disbelief.
“Well, reports say that the FIA is investigating you and Luca for a fake relationship. No truth to that?” I gave him an incredulous look. I expected this from tabloids but not from Sports Broadcasting, a company that had become the crown of British sports reporting.
“If you have reports, then sounds like you don’t need my input.”
“So, are you denying it?”
“I’m denying that it’s any of your business.” Lizzie was now waving at me in the background, motioning for me to end the conversation, but I ignored her wild waving.
“In fact, I’m denying the whole fucking thing. If you all think you know me so well, well enough to write articles before you even speaking to me, then why do you bother asking me these questions, hmm?” I could tell Marcus was a little deterred, but his next comment let me know he wasn’t deterred enough.
“I’m asking because a serious allegation has been brought against you, and you have yet to say anything about it. Instead, all you’ve done is ask your driver friends to post little photos of the two of you.”
“That’s enough!” I heard a voice yell beside me. I turned and looked at Eric, who was now standing up with the microphone in his hand. “If you have proof that the FIA have accused Georgia and Luca of something, then bring it up with the FIA. Drivers press conferences are for us drivers to answer questions for the fans – you know, the people we race for.”
“Don’t you think the fans want to know if Georgia Dubois actually deserves to be in Formula 1,” Marcus taunted.
“Not as much as the fans want to know why Sports Broadcasting hired such a lunatic to do their press interviews.” I knew it was a petty thing to say – and frankly, not the best quip, but I was fuming that Marcus, a supposedly reputable journalist, had dared to bring this up during a drivers press conference.
“How about we table this discussion and resume it after Georgia wins the championship at the end of the year?” I turned to see Otto, who was now also standing next to Erin, mic in hand. “I can tell you this: as a 3x world champion, I think I am a good judge of who deserves to be in F1. And Georgia? She deserves to be here. Hell, between Eric and I, we have 9x world championships – if we can’t be trusted on this, who can?”
Otto walked over to the journalist. He wasn’t that tall of a man, and with his silly mustache, he looked more like an 80s pornstar, but I could see Marcus sit down. Battling two beloved world champions wasn’t going to get the fans on board. I nodded my thanks to both Eric and Otto, who retook their seats on either side of me.
The long silence was deafening.
“So… do any of you have the same questions lined up for Luca, or does just Georgia get this treat…?” I smirked at Oliver as I turned to look at him, a huge grin on his face. I could tell he wasn’t done stirring the pot.
“Don’t be silly, Oliver, Luca’s answers wouldn’t be nearly as spicy as his love for jalapeños,” I quipped, earning me a laugh from the other drivers. “Papers won’t sell themselves, hmm?”
“Guess this is why they say newspaper is dying, not even worth wrapping day-old bread in it.” Even Michael Clifton let out a laugh at Éliott’s comment.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say this press conference is over,” Michael announced to the group, standing up and leaving the room, shaking his head in disbelief.
As I walked out of the press conference, I could see Lizzie wasn’t pleased with me. She didn’t have to say the unspoken words. When I got to the garage, I walked straight to Isabelle’s office, knowing that I had been summed. Once I had taken a seat, Isabelle slammed the door shut, a blank expression on her face, but her eyes were dancing with frustration.
“Damn it, Georgia – why?” Isabelle lamented.
“Why do they get to treat me like this?” I demanded back. “Why can’t I defend myself?”
“Because we’re supposed to be burying this story, not giving them more reasons to bring it up!” Isabelle was angry, that much was clear. She sat down in her chair in a huff, letting her head rest in her hands as she rubbed her eyes in frustration. A pang of guilt hit me. I’d never seen Isabelle look so defeated before.
“I just…. I just want this to go away for you, Georgia. I get it. You’re young and ambitious, and yes, it’s unfair that they treat you this way, but we need to learn to control the narrative, not feed into it.”
Isabelle’s comment reminded me of a conversation we had several months ago, back before I had started dating Luca. ‘Unfortunately, the F1 journalist community isn’t going to change overnight, so it’s our job to help guide them to that change.’
Isabelle’s words from my first race win ran through my head. She was right. I was better than yelling at a reporter, and yet, something told me she was also wrong here. I had spent the entire season backing down, letting journalists say whatever they wanted, hiding in the shadows so we could get Sponsors, but the more I thought about it, the more it was becoming clear that Sponsors wanted someone loved by fans – and to hell with the press. I couldn’t pretend to be someone else forever.
“I don’t care if this doesn’t go away. I don’t care if the press keeps up with this for the next ten years. I’m not backing down, Isabelle. I won’t let them treat me this way. I won’t show little girls who watch me on TV that it’s okay to let male journalists attack female athletes like that,” I said finally, finding my own voice.
“It doesn’t matter that what they’re saying is true. This relationship started as a fake one, but that doesn’t give them the right to attack my racing or who I am as a person.
I’m going to win this championship, Isabelle. I’m going to win Sunday’s race, and then Singapore, and then I’m going to keep winning until there’s no more races to win. You hired me to win, to fight – and that’s what I’m doing. I’m not going to back down, and if I lose my race seat for being me, then so be it.
I’ll have done it being myself, Georgia Dubois, the first female F1 champion – and that’s good enough for me.”
I got up from my seat and made my way to Isabelle’s office door. As I went to open it, I heard a laugh from behind me. I turned to see something that I had never seen before – Isabelle was sitting there, a look full of pride and adoration on her face, with a smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Well, then, Georgie, sounds like we have some work to do.”
Race day had finally arrived in Austria. The remaining press conferences and Sponsorship meetings had gone smoothly. I kept my promise of not backing down, but unlike before, the journalists could see that I was ready for them, ready to take them on. I guess the challenge was proving to be too much for them. Isabelle wasn’t too pleased with how Thursday’s press conference had gone, but fuck it – I didn’t care anymore.
Éliott was right. Those journalists hid behind their laptop screens, writing puff pieces about nonsense while we went out every race Sunday, driving dangerous cars for their enjoyment.
If they had something to say about me, they could say it to my face.
My morning race prep had been fairly easy. I wasn’t asked to do any more press conferences, so the only thing we had to do was the drivers’ parade before the race. As requested, Luca met me at the Valkyrie garage entrance, and we made our way to the holding room, our hands intertwined. When we walked in, I heard a wolf whistle, which, of course, came from Edward and Oliver, who were cheering us on as we walked over to the group of drivers.
“Nice of you two love birds to finally join us.” I scoffed at that, taking my water bottle from Lizzie, who had followed us in. She had been strictly instructed to watch me up until the drivers’ parade, not wanting another press conference or hotel incident to happen.
“You gonna crucify the sports journalist on the parade truck?” Oliver had a twinkle of hope in his eye. I knew all the drivers got a kick out of Georgia “Sassy” Dubois.
“No, she most certainly is not.” Lizzie gave Oliver a death glare, warning the driver off from any more shenanigans. Oliver just gave her a sheepish look, clearly getting the message.
“I did not crucify them.” Before I could continue defending myself, the rest of the drivers were laughing a little too loudly, as if I had just told the biggest joke.
“They ended the press conference early!” Edward laughed.
We boarded the vehicle that had been converted to a parade truck, all of us wearing our brightly colored team polos. Luca kept my hand in his as we went to the back of the area, both of us leaning against the rails. Edward, Oliver, and Oscar followed us, and by the look on Edward’s face, he had something he wanted to discuss.
“Edward, you look like a deer in headlights. What’s up?”
“So, umm, I just wanted to let you know Anthony is here again.” Edward’s face looked worried. I knew Luca had filled him in on where the article’s information had actually come from.
“Does he not actually race in Indy Car? He always seems to be here.” Luca took off his hat and pushed his hair back, something I noticed he often did when he was frustrated or nervous.
“Apparently, they have a break, and he’s up for Wilmington F1 testing again.”
“Well, thanks for letting me know, Edward, but honestly, there isn’t a lot Anthony can do to us at this point.” I gave him a reassuring smile and then looked at Luca, whose face looked a little less convincing. I gave his hand a squeeze before the presenter walked over to us; she looked a little wary of my presence, but I gave the camera a nice smile and did the interview as requested without confrontation.
Apparently, Valkyrie could only handle one press blowout a weekend, or so I was told by the team.
The drivers’ parade ended without any fuss, and we departed the bus, making our way back to our respective garages. As Luca dropped me outside the garage entrance, he pulled me into his chest and gave me a peck on the lips, offering me a warm smile as he looked down into my eyes.
I looked around to see if there was any press, but surprisingly, the entrance was empty. Luca and I had kissed in private before, but almost exclusively during sex. Luca had never before kissed me in the paddock when no one else was present, and that realization made those pesky butterflies return. The moment felt so tender and warm, and I realized deep down that I didn’t want him to let go.
Did he feel the same as me?
“Good luck, Cara. See you on the podium, eh?”
“I’ll be the one on the top step as usual,” I retorted back playfully, earning me another kiss on the lips before Luca padded off to the Hermes garage. I stood there for a moment, watching him go before a clearing of a throat caused me to turn around.
“Anthony, why the fuck are you here?” Anthony ignored my statement, instead stepping closer to me as he grabbed my arm forcefully.
“I see you and Luca even keep up the charade when no one is around. Good for you guys. I guess you don’t know when an unsuspecting bystander could walk by.”
“Judging by how much I’ve seen of you recently, I’d say you’re more of a stalker than a bystander.”
“I have better things to do than follow around a liar and a cheater,” Anthony quipped. He was dangerously close to me, and I looked around the paddock, hoping someone I knew would notice the two of us.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“You think you’re so special, don’t you,” Anthony bit out, his voice venomous. “We both know you slept your way into this. Although I’m not sure what Luca is getting out of it, you’re pretty lousy in bed.” Anthony grabbed my arm tighter as he pulled me closer to him. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.
“Let go, asshole!”
“I’m going to get a seat in F1, and then I’m going to crucify you since apparently the press aren’t doing a good enough job at it.” Before I could respond, I heard a deep voice behind me, the Italian accent undeniable.
“I believe the lady said let go.” Luca grabbed Anthony by the collar and pulled him in. Anthony let go of my arm at the contact with Luca. Edward was with Luca, trying to block the sight of Luca holding Anthony’s collar from the growing crowd.
“Touch her again, and I’ll ruin that ugly face of yours,” Luca spit out.
“He’s not worth it,” I whispered the Luca, encouraging him to set Anthony down. I could see Luca debating what to do, the wheels in his head turning. I knew every ounce of him wanted to punch Anthony, but with the crowd getting bigger, Luca put the Indy Car driver down and backed away.
“Edward, take this piece of trash back to Wilmington, eh?” Edward let out a snicker and motioned for Anthony to follow him, not even looking back.
As Anthony walked by, Luca leaned over and whispered to him, “Women aren’t lousy in bed if a man knows how to make them scream, and oh boy, is Georgia a screamer.” Luca winked at Anthony and patted him on the back as he watched the Indy Car driver run after Edward like a dog with its tail between its legs.
“You okay, Amore? I should have walked you all the way in. I’m sorry.” Luca had the cutest apologetic face. His plump lips were giving me the most adorable pout, and his eyes were soft as he observed my face.
