Page 10 of Spin Control

“How is this allowed?”

I stand next to Chalondra, taking in the chaos unfolding around us. She talked me into joining her for the pre-race grid walk, where high-profile celebrities, media, and team guests flood the starting line minutes before the race begins. Everywhere I look, there are news crews interviewing actors and glamorous people chatting or peering at the cars up close, even as team members rush around, holding clipboards and wearing headsets, doing last-minute checks on….tires? I don’t even know.

“It’s insane in the best way,” Chalondra says, looking amused by my horrified reaction.

“I think it’s just insane,” I say, but she ignores that, pulling me over to introduce me to someone. This keeps happening. While I reel from sensory overload, wondering how the hell this is conducive to the drivers this close to the start of the race, she moves through the privileged crowd, introducing me to glossy-haired content creators and members of news teams she thinks I should know.

After a podcaster invites me on his show—as if I’d ever allow myself to be interviewed—the track starts to clear. Chalondra steers me towards the Martine garage, past where Hyunjoon is standing by his car on the grid, listening intently to one of the crew members. I give him a thumbs up and he shoots a close-lipped smile my way.

“What, no thumbs up for me?” The low voice is close to my ear. I whip around and come face to face with Wes Grant.

We haven’t spoken since Thursday. But here he is now, wearing his tight, Oxford blue race suit and a smoldering expression. It’s an extremely effective combination that makes him look hotter than anyone should when wearing a jumpsuit. But rather than thinking about how attractive I find him, I focus on how annoying it is that he makes what is, effectively, a high-tech adult onesie look good.

“Do you need a thumbs up?”

“Not when I’m in P2,” he says, the left side of his mouth arcing into a lopsided grin. His eyes quickly travel the length of my body and back up again. Under usual circumstances, I would glare at any man who had the audacity to check me out so publicly until he apologized. But today, it makes me want to fidget. I had no idea what to wear after discovering neither the professional basics nor the workout clothes in my suitcase are appropriate for race weekends. Since I haven’t had time to go shopping, I did my best with what I have, putting together a white Martine Racing polo, a black, knee-length skirt, and black pumps.

“Are your feet okay?”

I blink. “Your race starts in a handful of minutes and you’re asking about my feet?”

“Yeah,” Wes says with a casual shrug. “But it’s good to know you’re nervous on my behalf.”

“I’m not—” I start, but then Chalondra rushes over. “Wes, oh my God, I haven’t been able to congratulate you in person but! P2!”

“Thanks,” he says with friendly affection. “I plan to win this one.”

She smiles wide. “I’ll be cheering you on from the very comfortable hospitality suite.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the boys,” he quips.

“You know you’re my favorite. Go do the damn thing, Grant.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells her, turning to make his way to his car. But he pauses and looks back at me. “Enjoy your first race, Elizabeth.” And then: he winks.

I should be rolling my eyes. I should be annoyed. But instead, I’m smiling.

“Girl,” Chalondra drawls. “I’d tell you to tread carefully with that one, but I think I should save that advice for him.”

“No advice needed. He’s a client.”

Chalondra laughs. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. The thing Wes Grant likes most is a challenge.”

Once we’re back in the Martine garage, Chalondra waves goodbye and heads to the posh hospitality area. In the short time we were on the track, the space has transformed: there are chairs set up for the pit crew and the back area is filled with guests wearing headsets. Hyunjoon’s side is packed with his family and friends, and I give Sora a little wave. She smartly elected not to do the grid walk. Though it was definitely an experience, I wish I had followed her lead rather than letting Chalondra talk me into it.

Not that I would have ever told Wes, but my feet are killing me.

Accepting a headset from Sarah, the team’s head of hospitality, I pop it on and head over to an empty chair on Wes’s side of the garage. There’s plenty of space, even with the celebrities invited by David and the representatives from a luxury travel brand. Wes apparently didn’t invite anyone other than his performance coach. No family. No friends. No partner. Though it’s none of my business, it strikes me as curious.

I take a seat and turn my attention to the television screen that shows the drivers taking their formation lap. Thanks to Chalondra, I know this is the lap drivers use to warm up their tires, not the actual start of the race.

Once the cars are all back at the starting line, the tension goes from palpable to taut. On the screen, a series of red lights go out at random times, and the second the final one goes dark, engines vroom to life as each driver punches the accelerator. When Wes and Hyunjoon both get through the crowd of cars unscathed, cheers resound in the garage. It’s only then that I realize my lungs are burning from how long I’ve been holding my breath.

As the race continues, the headset makes me privy to everything the Martine engineers are telling the drivers, and vice versa. Though I don’t understand half the things they’re saying, I am impressed by how calm everyone sounds. Meanwhile, my heart is pounding as I watch cars zoom by so fast that if I blink, I miss it.

After half an hour has passed, Hyunjoon’s engineer says “box, box,” and the garage comes to life: the pit crew secures helmets and mans their stations, holding tires, pneumatic tools, and what looks to be some sort of lift. When Hyunjoon pulls in, the crew jacks the car up, changes the tires, and sends Hyunjoon back on his way in just over two seconds.

I knew that pit stops were synonymous with speed, but seeing one in real time creates a whole new level of understanding. “Well, hell.”