“At least his driving is under control, unlike his temper,” my dad grumbles to Gus, “See, Siena? Nothing to worry about. Hey—Siena! Where are you going?”
There’s no time to stop and explain myself to dear old dad. Not now. I take off like a shot through the pit, ducking around moving parts and hassled technicians. There’s no way I’m going to get a direct line to Enzo at this stage in the game. I can’t reason with him while he’s tearing around the track, he could lose control. I need to intercept my brother the second he pulls into the pit, I have to get him to hear me out, even for a second.
“Hey! Siena!”
“Watch out!”
“What are you doing down here?”
I hear the harried voices of Ferrelli’s pit crew members barking all around me, but I’m not about to let them boot me out. I’m Siena Lazio, dammit—daughter of Alfonso Lazio, sister of Enzo, and soon to be one of the owners of the team itself. I have just as much right to be here as anyone else, more even.
But just before I can hurdle over a spare tyre, a strong hand closes around my arm, and I turn to find myself face-to-face with Gus. His usually amiable face is stern and clouded.
“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you don’t cool it,” he tells me.
“You don’t understand—”
“Hell if I don’t! You think the rules don’t apply to you, just like your brother and father. But this is still my pit, Siena. And I won’t have you getting yourself hurt on my watch.”
“Let go of my arm, Gus,” I shout over the riotous noise.
“Not on your life,” he says, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you and your brother today, but whatever it is, you need to settle it some other time. Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be underfoot down here?”
“Underfoot? Please don’t talk to me like I’m still a child, Gus. I’m a part of this team, too. Why doesn’t anyone treat me like I am?”
“Because you insist on getting involved on your own terms! If you’d just do your job and leave it at that—”
“How could you let him get into that car, Gus?” I cry, wrenching my arm out of his grip, “You’re supposed to be in charge around here. You’re supposed to keep him safe.”
“He’s as safe as he ever is, Siena,” Gus says, exasperated, “Just look.”
I turn to the gigantic screen that hangs above the track. The cars may be out of sight, but their progress is transmitted through the towering monitor. On the other side of the course, Enzo’s holding onto his lead. His car hugs the inside track steadily, and the other cars are hanging back—even Harrison’s. He’s whipping around the course at breakneck speed, but it doesn’t seem like he’s driving erratically. His steering and control are perfect as ever—or so it seems from where we’re standing now.
“See?” Gus says, “He may have a temper, but he can drive through anything. Everything’s going to be OK.”
“Everything’s always OK until it’s not,” I tell him.
“This has been an emotional season for your brother,” Gus tells me, “With your dad’s condition—”
“You know about that?” I ask.
“I’m your father’s best friend. Of course I know. You should cut your brother some slack. He’s got enough to deal with right now.”
I don’t say another word to the Ferrelli manager. My feet carry me as close to the track as I can get without leaping onto it. I keep my eyes glued to Enzo’s car as lap after lap goes by. F1 races are incredibly long affairs, but the laps fly past. Time loses all meaning as I wait anxiously to steal my brother’s ear for a moment. His temper on the track is like a ticking time bomb. If one little thing doesn’t go his way out there, it could all be over.
It isn’t until a quarter of the race has gone by that I start to become aware of anxious murmurs in the pit around me. The pit crew members stand around, looking anxiously out onto the track. Dad and Gus are standing side by side, wearing almost identical grimaces.
“What?” I say, turning toward my dad, “What’s wrong?”
“He should have come in by now,” Dad mutters, his brow furrowed. “That was the strategy we agreed on. But he just keeps moving.”
My chest tightens as I whip my gaze back around in time to catch Enzo soar past the pit at top speed. It’s almost as if he’s in the race alone, he’s outpaced most of the other cars by so much distance. There’s only one other car that’s neglected to drop back yet—and of course, that car belongs to Harrison Davies. Harrison’s gunning for Enzo’s first place spot, and Enzo is not about to back off. Not today, of all days. Not when he’s just discovered that Harrison’s been whisking his little sister away in the dark of night...regardless of the fact that his little sister was more than happy to go.
“Give him space, Harrison,” I whisper, my fingernails biting into my palms, “Don’t do anything stupid...”
But of course, the two of them are too far off to hear my pleas. They probably wouldn’t heed them even if they heard me. They soar on past, racing laps around the other cars. Just when it seems that they’ve reached the peak of their baseline speeds, they seem to pick up the pace even further. They’ve both decided that they’re going to take home first today. And I don’t want to know what extremes they’re both willing to go to make that happen. My head is absolutely swimming with anxiety and fear, but I refuse to look away from the race. No matter how lightheaded or fearful I get, I need to be on hand when Enzo pulls into the pit.
“Finally,” Gus sighs, as my brother gets ready to soar into the pit for a spell.
I hold my breath as Enzo and Harrison simultaneously disperse, way too far into the race for anyone’s comfort. They break off from their trajectories in almost perfect unison and head off to their respective pits. As the vibrant green car screeches to a halt before us, pit crew members fall upon the vehicle like a swarm of worker bees. As I lunge toward my brother, Dad steps in my way, blocking me.
“Leave him alone Siena,” he cautions me, “Your worrying isn’t going to do him any favors now.”
“Dad, I have to talk to him,” I plead, “You have to let me—”
“He knows what he’s doing,” Dad interrupts, “He’s been racing incredibly so far, whatever mood he might happen to be in. If you interfere now—”
But I don’t stick around to hear the rest of his protestations. I tear past my father and push my way through the thick crowd of pit technicians. The smell of sweat and exhaust overwhelms me as I battle my way to the side of Enzo’s car. I place my hands firmly on his ride, planting my feet lest any crew members try and shake me off. I watch Enzo’s dark eyes swing my way as I latch onto his car, holding on for dear life. I’m almost scared speechless by the furious anger that smolders behind his dark gaze. I know for a fact that my brother’s never been this angry with me. I just wish that he would let me explain.
“Enzo!” I scream, knowing he can barely hear me over the chaos that surrounds us. I’ll just have to hope that he can read my lips and know my heart “Enzo, I’m sorry. Please be careful,” I shout, “We can talk about everything after the race, just please keep your head on straight. You’re doing an amazing job, just don’t do anything stupid out there. I love you so much. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
His mouth moves furiously for a moment, but I can’t make out what he’s said.
“What?” I scream, squinting to read his lips.
“You already have,” he repeats, his gaze freezing the blood in my veins.
He tears his eyes away from me, having decimated me with three little words. I take a quivering step back from the car, numb in the wake of Enzo’s dismissal. With a mighty roar, his engine kicks up to full strength and carries him away from me, back onto the track. I hope for a second that he’ll just finish this race without incident. That would be enough of a blessing. I don’t care if he wins, as long as he makes it through unhurt. But when Enzo sails back into the race from his pit stop, something crucial has changed.
Harrison’s taken the lead.
“No...” I breathe, backing away from the track, “Harrison, no...”
But no amount of wishful thinking can derail the course of events unfolding before my eyes. Harrison is soaring around the track, his car hugging the inside track. He’s unseated Enzo from that coveted spot, and I know that he’s not going to give up easily. Harrison has no idea what state of mind Enzo’s in, no reason to think that he might need to be more careful than usual. He’s got his eyes on first place, and there’s no way he’s going to back down. Why should he? In his mind, this is just another race. He has no idea that Enzo’s just discovered us. No idea that he should be afraid for his life.
Around and around they go, Enzo gunning to close the distance between him and Harrison. My brother inches up little by little, and I can practically feel the heat from his outrage scorching along the track. Only one of them can come out on top, here, and I’ve completely lost track of who I’m even rooting for anymore. I don’t care which one of them wins, as long as they both make it through OK. That’s the only sort of victory I’m interested in.
By the time the final laps of the Grand Prix are underway, Enzo’s almost entirely closed the space between his and Harrison’s cars. They’ve outpaced the rest of the pack by a long shot. Rafael Marques has taken third place, but he’s too far back to pose any sort of threat to Enzo and Harrison. Landers and Rostov are vying for fourth and fifth place, but no one can be bothered to keep an eye on them, what with the drama unfolding at the head of the pack. Harrison and Enzo are practically on top of each other. My heart is lodged in my throat, but the closer they come to the finish line, the more relieved I feel. So far their driving has been remarkably even. No dirty tactics, nothing. Maybe I misjudged the situation? I should give my brother more credit where credit is due. What kind of a lunatic would he have to be to endanger himself over—
“Look out!” I screech, as Enzo veers sharply toward Harrison on the track.
The sudden attack comes out of nowhere, and a collective gasp goes up in the stands. Harrison drops back, trying like hell to avoid a collision. Enzo roars into Harrison’s abandoned spot, stealing the lead back with the most aggressive move I’ve ever seen him make. Enzo’s car jerks wildly as he takes the lead—he’s lost some of his control in his eagerness to get back in front of the race.
Harrison is not about to let Enzo get away with playing dirty. He abandons decorum and decides to take on my reckless brother. The red car swings around and draws even with its green rival. Enzo and Harrison are racing neck and neck, barreling ahead at an insane speed. They’ve left behind any consideration of safety or predetermined strategy. Harrison’s looking for an opening, trying to get back into the lead. It’s clear that he’s trying to win without engaging in any more foul play. Is he holding back for my sake, I wonder?
With a sudden burst of speed, Harrison surges forward. He must have been preserving this burst of momentum just in case of emergency. It’s clear that Enzo wasn’t counting on Harrison’s secret reserve. The world slows back down to a crawl as Harrison inches past Enzo, moving up beside him little by little. Harrison is on the verge of securing himself a first place victory, fair and square.
That is, until Enzo loses patience with the sight of Harrison edging up to take away his lead. In a fraction of a second, my brother lets go of every rational thought, every precaution and measure of safety. He wrenches his car mightily to the right, just as Harrison is about to pull ahead once and for all. The nose of the green car catches its red competitor straight on, slamming right into its side. It’s a point-blank collision, the moment that every F1 driver, fan, and loved one hopes never ever to witness.
And yet, there it is.
Time slows to a sinister crawl as Harrison and Enzo’s cars slam together, crunching sickly in an eruption of metal and glass. The impact spins Harrison out across the track, and he struggles to gain control of his vehicle. But Enzo doesn’t even have that option. At once, his car turns onto its nose and flips over, skidding across the track toward the concrete barrier. Harrison loses his fight against momentum just as Enzo succumbs to his own inevitable trajectory. In one moment that will be blazed into my memory for as long as I live, the two cars slam against the unforgiving wall. The grating crash that rings out through the air is absolutely unearthly, and for a second, I tell myself that I must be having some surreal nightmare. What I’m witnessing can’t possibly be true.
But reality floods in with the incredulous gasp of the spectators. This is really happening. The edges of my vision begin to darken as the scene before me dissolves into chaos. Blaring sirens ring out across the track as emergency vehicles join the race cars on the track. Dark, oily smoke begins to billow up from the site of the crash, cloaking the scene beneath the crisp blue sky hanging overhead. A frenzied murmur rises up from the stands as fans crane their necks to get a good look at the wreckage. Around me, the Ferrelli pit goes into panic mode, and I feel my limp body get jostled out of the way.
Before I can even say a word, I slip into dark, dreamless unconsciousness. Faced with the ultimate worst case scenario, my mind and body can’t stand to carry on. I’m vaguely aware of the other cars that race on ahead of the wreck, but can’t even begin to register something as inconsequential as the outcome of a race right now. I don’t even feel myself hit the ground as the pit uncoils into chaos around me, rallying for Enzo. If I’m lucky, I’ll wake up from this terrible dream, emerge unscathed on the other side...but no amount of wishful thinking can fix this. Nothing can ever make this OK—my legs give out beneath me, and as I finally pass out, that is the only thing in the world I know to still be true.
Chapter Eleven
Awake In Hell
For a moment, just before I open my eyes, my mind is peaceful. I must be asleep in my hotel room, I reason. I’m about to begin another day on the F1 circuit, wrangling press and shaping narratives like the professional I am. Everything in my mind is calm, and even, and unremarkable...that is, until I finally crack open my eyes.
I sit up like a shot, looking wildly around the unfamiliar room. Where the hell am I? What the hell is going on, here? The space around me is white and sanitized, lit by harsh white light and not at all like my decadent hotel room. I must have passed out after the crash. Oh my God, the crash...I think frantically. I have to find out what’s happened to Harrison and Enzo.
“You’re awake,” I hear, as shaking arms enclose me in a tight embrace.
“Bex?” I say, pulling away from my best friend. I stare, bewildered, down into her tear-stained face. “What’s—Where—?”
“We’re at the hospital,” she tells me, smoothing down my hair, “You hit the floor after the wreck. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re OK, hun, you just got totally overwhelmed. I don’t blame you, of course—”
“The wreck...” I breathe, the sterile room spinning around me. I level my eyes at my best friend, knowing full well that in a moment, she might also be the bearer of the worst news I’ve ever heard. “You have to tell me what happened.”
“It was bad, Siena,” Bex whispers, her chin beginning to quiver. “But they were out so far ahead of the others that no one else got caught in the wreck. So that’s something. Marques took first. Rostov and Landers came in right behind him—”
“I don’t care about stats right now,” I cry, “Harrison and Enzo. They’re both...they’re not...” I trail off, unable to even form the words that express my darkest fears. My blood turns to ice as Bex struggles to catch her breath.
“They’re alive. Both of them,” she finally tells me, “I thought, we all thought the worst. When they were finally pulled out of the wreck, we thought for sure they’d be gone. You should have seen their cars, the way they got ruined against the wall. It’s a miracle that either of them is still with us.”
“They’re alive...” I say, forcing deep breaths into my lungs.
“Yes,” Bex tells me, “Somehow, by some miracle, they’re b
oth alive. A little worse for the wear, sure—”
“I have to go see them,” I tell her, trying to get to my feet. “I have to see for myself that they’re OK. What if something’s changed—?”
“Not yet,” Bex says, pulling me back down onto the cot. “Just wait a minute, Siena.”
“Why? I have to make sure they’re being taken care of.”
“What are you going to do, burst into Harrison’s room and throw yourself at him? Go rail at Enzo for causing the wreck in the first place? This is a touchy situation, Siena. It has to be handled with care. And I don’t mean from a PR perspective, I mean from a human perspective. What is your plan right now?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “I just...I want to see them.”
“You need to get your head on straight first,” Bex tells me. “The next couple of hours are really important. Enzo and Harrison are both going to be out of their minds with anger and fear and who knows what else. The media’s going to be waiting outside for some kind of statement. You have to have an even head about Harrison and your brother. You have to get your story straight. Maybe say it was all an accident?”
“I can’t believe Enzo would do something like this...” I mutter, burying my face in my hands, “I mean, I get that he’s mad at me...”
“Enzo?” Bex asks, “Why would he be mad at you?”
“Because he found out about me and Harrison,” I groan, “Just before the race. Someone sent him those pictures of us. I went into his trailer and saw them on his phone. All of them. My unknown asshole stalker decided to let him in on my little secret right before the Grand Prix.”
“Oh my god...” Bex whispers.
“I tried to keep him off the track,” I say wildly, “I tried to stop him, honestly I did. But he wouldn’t listen. And Dad and Gus kept trying to tell me that he was OK to drive. He could hardly look at me, he was so furious. I swear, I’ve never seen him so angry. Especially not with me...”
Take Me Series (COMPLETE BOX SET) Page 26
