Driven by Ambition, page 20
Cliff: Upside is that it’s not the same market as memorabilia
Freddy: Or trophies?
Cliff: Cars sell to car lovers. Memorabilia sells to collectors. Different market
Jaxxon had guessed as much, and shortly afterwards, Jaxxon won the bidding war, signing over $8.2million of Socrates’ money for the car. Freddy was a little sad that it didn’t go for as much as he had expected, but that was quickly overwritten by the realisation that if Socrates owned it, he might get to drive it again. The old familiar buzz of adrenalin shot through his veins and he closed his eyes, visualising the Imola track and how it had felt in this ancient V6 with manual transmission. After all the paperwork had been done, they sat together quietly at the back.
“How did that feel?”
“Nerve-wracking. Mike wants it to be Socrates’ present when he leaves rehab. When the bidding started and the other person kept hitting back at me, I thought it was going to burn past my limit, but then it just stopped.”
“I meant spending such a big amount of money.”
Jaxxon shrugged. “I manage a much bigger budget with the team. After a while, it’s just data on a page, not real money. I try not to think about it in real terms.”
He was so fascinated by this idea, and it made some twisted sense. Jaxxon dealt with huge sums of money every day as the Team Principal, and yet when it became personal, Freddy had seen how Jaxxon still struggled to comprehend his place in the world.
“Perhaps Socrates will let you drive it.” Jaxxon’s reiteration of his own hope sent a flourish of joyful heat buzzing in his torso.
“Perhaps. He’ll want to do it first.” Freddy hadn’t driven on Socrates’ test track. He’d only seen it from the air when arriving at the estate in a helicopter.
“Have you driven the test track?”
“Me? No. I’m a mechanical engineer, not a driver.”
“I should take you for a spin sometime.”
Jaxxon smiled. “One day. Now, can you put on your journalist hat and find out who the underbidder was? It might be useful to know.”
Freddy absolutely could do that. He pulled out a card from his wallet and waited until the final item had been auctioned, before approaching the auctioneer. The underbidder was an agent, known to the auctioneer, who gave him the contact details. A good starting place and he could head back to Europe in a few days with more information under his belt.
***
Spain
Ten days later, Freddy stood in a crisp suit with his colleagues before FP1 in Spain when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
Cliff: I’ve been looking through old auction catalogues for S1 memorabilia and I’ve created a little database for you. It’s in your emails.
Freddy: Awesome. Thanks
He opened his email, and sure enough, there was an email from Cliff with an attachment, so he forwarded it to Jaxxon and Sonia with a note. Once that was done, he flicked Georgia a text.
Freddy: Can you set up a meeting with Jaxxon at Gamble Racing and Sonia from my old team?
Georgia: I know who Jaxxon is
Freddy: This is work
Georgia: Today in Spain?
Freddy: Yes
Georgia: Ok
“Freddy, focus please, the cars are about to come out on track.” Carol’s reminder in his ear was more severe than he’d expected.
“Are you alright, Carol? You sound very stressed.”
“My presenter is acting like a teenager, texting on his phone instead of doing his job.” Harsh, but true. He clicked his phone onto silent and slid it into his pocket, before clearing his throat and nodding at Maddock.
“We have a sell-out crowd here at Circuit de Barcelona, with Series Two driver Harry Goldingstone sitting in for JP Lavinge for FP1. The teams have brought many upgrades to the race this weekend, most notably with Gamble Racing bringing changes to their floor as they hope to make their car less susceptible to understeer. This season is looking like a strong battle with the top three teams having their six drivers all within thirty points of each other, while the mid-field is in a state of flux.”
“It is too early to be making any calls for the Championship.” Alicia Blasi was his companion reporter for this practice session, while John and Shavi were on pitlane duties.
“Yes, I agree. I’m sure our fans are enjoying how tight the battle is at the top as much as we are.”
“The change to the downforce regulations a few seasons ago are certainly doing their job and making the field a lot tighter.”
“Yes, I’m enjoying seeing much tighter racing and I think our fan love seeing more overtakes.”
Alicia smiled at the camera. “And with that, the pitlane lights are off and the first cars are on the track for this free practice session.”
They waited until they had the signal that the live feed had gone to cover the actual cars, and Freddy tried to avoid the temptation to look at his phone again.
“Hey, what’s the deal with you spending so much time with Jaxxon Loharani-Jones?” Alicia asked.
“Excuse me?”
“People are talking, and I thought I’d just ask.”
Freddy tried not to look startled. “Um, we are?” Shit, he meant to ask if people were talking, not that they were together.
“Spending time together? Yes. It’s been noted by several of the Team Principals and they want to know what’s going on.”
He tried to stay outwardly calm while his stomach flipped over. He hadn’t discussed this possibility with Jaxxon; their plans had been about them, not the rest of the paddock. Jaxxon had mentioned it when they’d talked about potential problems, but they’d been too busy fucking to discuss it more. Freddy’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he realised he had the perfect reason to calm everyone down. “Ahh, you remember how both of Socrates’ trophies were stolen at the Gamble Racing launch?”
“Yes. I was there. Did they ever find them?”
“No. I’m assisting Gamble Racing in the search.”
“You?” Alicia raised her eyebrows.
He tried not to react to her apparent incredulity that he was capable of helping someone with a mystery. “Yes. I have a few contacts in the art world and I offered to help. Plus, it’s an interesting puzzle, you know.”
“It is. Nicking trophies is so weirdly personal. I can’t imagine wanting to have someone else’s Cups in my trophy cabinet.”
He smiled. “Your trophy cabinet is probably impressive enough.”
“That’s not really the point though, is it? Why on earth would anyone want to have trophies won by someone else? I don’t understand the psychology behind that, unless it’s some twisted fucking revenge plot.”
Freddy hadn’t considered that angle. “You know. It is very strange, and if it were just Socrates’ trophies, then you’d probably be right.”
“But there are others?” Alicia held up one finger. “Oh my God. Seb’s trophy. Who the fuck would do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to help find out. I have a meeting with Jaxxon and Marcel later to talk about some developments.”
“Oh, I spy gossip.”
“You’ll be the first to hear when there’s something concrete to talk about.” Freddy would have to tell Jaxxon about this conversation, but hopefully he’d headed off any rumours about the two of them before they’d grown into anything difficult.
“I don’t understand the connection between Socrates’ trophies and Seb’s one...”
“Neither. They are different eras and drove for different teams.”
Alicia shook her head. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing. You know it was weird that night at Gamble. There were people on the stage pretty much all the time and they just disappeared from under a sheet. How?”
“We aren’t sure, so if you have any clues, I’m sure Socrates would appreciate the help.”
Alicia frowned. “I mean, there was about ten minutes before we started when we turned the lights down on the stage, just before you and I walked on to do the introductions, but people were seated in front of the stage and they would’ve seen people moving about, even if it was just shadows.”
She was right and in the mayhem of that night, no one had thought to ask the people seated at the front tables.
“I’ll mention that in our meeting. Thank you.”
“Anytime. It’s a weird one, for sure.”
His earpiece beeped. “Back to work first.”
“Yes.” Alicia slipped easily back into presenter mode, allowing him to follow. This trophy mystery was eating away at him, stealing his usual focus on the job, or perhaps it was just being with Jaxxon and all the sneaking around that bothered him. No, they were still working out this ... thing between them, it was too early to be making any declarations to anyone else about them. He glanced at the screen showing the current cars on the tracks and the times and settled in for the rest of the session.
Chapter 22
Hungary
After seven races in three months, Jaxxon desperately needed the summer break. He was shattered and so was his team. Everyone had a mandatory ten-day break before they met in the factory again. A month away from racing didn’t mean a month away from work, but he could ensure that everyone in the team took some time to recuperate before the next part of the season.
Jaxxon stood in the line to board for business class on Monday afternoon, wearing a three-piece suit. The suit was a pre-emptive weapon that prevented any questions from racists about whether he was standing in the correct line. He’d much rather just wear his Gamble uniform or loose track pants like the white guy in front of him in the line, but this choice created less drama, and what he needed right now was to get home without interacting with other people. In less than three hours, he’d be back in England and he could sleep for a week. The first half of the season was done, and the summer break was about to begin. It rattled around in his head like a promise—summer break, summer break. The snatched moments with Freddy between races could be replaced with actual time together. He wanted to curl up in Freddy’s bed and do nothing for ages; well, a couple of days anyway, before he got bored with resting. Gamble Racing was fourth on the constructor’s championship—a satisfying start to his first season as Team Principal—but with 187 points, they were quite far behind the third team who had 301 points and there was plenty to do to improve things. His drivers were currently sixth and eighth in the driver’s standings; fair but not exactly where Jaxxon wanted the team to be. His phone dinged.
Freddy: You done?
Jaxxon didn’t know what Freddy meant.
Jaxxon: I am about to board the plane for home.
Freddy: Oh. I figured you’d still be in the paddock.
Jaxxon: Why?
The race was over, and all the media analysis was complete. Pitlane had been packed up last night and everything was already on trucks heading home. He’d stayed in the hotel on Sunday night because they had a Team Principal meeting with the S1 board this morning, which had gone well. It was easy for him as his drivers both had multi-year contracts. No silly season dramatics for Gamble Racing. At the end of next season, Ondrej’s contract would be up, and he hoped their results by this time next year would be good enough to re-sign him. Paulo came with sponsorship, so that tied up the issue of sponsorship and the second driver while Paulo’s contract was still valid. The biggest threat there was other teams trying to poach him, but his results weren’t quite good enough for that to be a tangible problem. Yet. He’d need to keep an eye on that. Money often talked louder than results in this sport.
Freddy: Didn’t you have a meeting?
Jaxxon: It’s done
Freddy: I’ll meet you at Heathrow.
Jaxxon held out his ticket to scan and followed the other passengers onto the plane. He sent Freddy a quick thumbs up and his ETA before turning his phone off for the flight. Soon he’d be with Freddy—who’d flown home late last night—and they wouldn’t have to sneak around like they had for most of the season so far. They’d had a near-miss back in Spain when Freddy’s colleague, Alicia, had noticed they’d been spending a lot of time together, but they’d put her off with the trophy mystery. The spreadsheet of S1 memorabilia sales hadn’t yielded any clues and with no further action, he’d given up on finding Socrates’ trophies. During the season, he hadn’t really had the headspace to think about it too much, but maybe he could put some effort into it during the summer break. Victor had an idea for some upgrades that he wanted to test in their wind tunnel, and he was going to visit Socrates and spend a day reviewing the season so far, going over the budgets, and planning the rest of the season. Other than those things, his summer break looked quite free. It’d been months since he’d seen his folks and he realised with a small catch of breath in his throat that he missed them. He talked to them on the phone every week, but nothing beat being there in person and getting a hug from his mum and an apple Danish from his dad. He made a mental note to add in a trip home to see them during the break, and he closed his eyes on the realisation that he wasn’t going to get much resting done in the next month.
When the plane touched down, Jaxxon woke with a groan. His neck was all stiff from sleeping sitting up. The bigger business class seats were quite comfortable for a plane—and it was an upgrade from when he’d been Ondrej’s race engineer and travelled in economy with the rest of the team—but his body still didn’t appreciate being forced to snooze sitting up. He rubbed his eyes, half-listening to the captain’s welcome message. Eventually he pulled out his phone to turn it on and he scanned his notifications. Among the several emails, there was an alert email letting him know that Freddy had published an article. He clicked the link, reading as he walked off the plane, dragging his carry-on suitcase. He always travelled light to race weekends, so he didn’t have to wait around for checked in luggage. It was a bonus of having a team; he could send most of his stuff with the logistics team.
The Silly Season Has Begun With a Blast, by Freddy Hiptonstall
With seven of the twenty S1 seats up for grabs as we head into the summer break, this promises to be an intriguing silly season. The shock announcement of Dwight Etrulius’ retirement should create a few changes in driver line ups across the grid, while the rumour mill is already in overdrive surrounding the potential seat for S2’s Letherbarrow who is leading the championship over there in a sensational debut season.
The rest of the article outlined all the information Jaxxon already knew, and he appreciated that Freddy buried Gamble Racing’s unchanged driver line up in the middle of the article. He put his phone away to go through customs, and finally, he emerged into the arrivals section.
“Jaxxon.” Freddy walked up to him, a smile on his face, and Jaxxon glanced around but he’d been the only Team Principal on his flight. One of the top teams was based in Italy, while the other two were in England—like Gamble Racing—but they had private jets, hence why he didn’t expect to see those Team Principals today. Like many other mid-field teams, Gamble Racing used commercial flights to save on costs because Socrates preferred to spend money on winning races, not people’s comfort or catering, and it was a philosophy Jaxxon agreed with. Budgeting and working out the best spend of funds were his strong point.
“Hello.”
“You look exhausted.” Freddy reached out for his hands.
“Not here. There’s probably others on the plane.” Others from the paddock.
“I’m done with hiding.”
So was he, and there was no need for it, not really. They were two grown men and it was no one’s business. He hadn’t even intended to hide this, it’d just happened that way. “Yeah, same, but I’m also tired. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Yes. It would be better to control the story. Come along.” Freddy’s fundamental understanding of S1 media was useful and helped calm the exhausted scrambled mess in his head. He followed Freddy who took him to the cab rank and he snoozed in the back while they were driven to Freddy’s apartment. The idea of falling asleep in Freddy’s amazing bed was absolutely what he needed; the perfect beginning to the summer break. Tomorrow would be for decisions, or whatever. He let himself be led out of the cab, into the elevator, and into Freddy’s luxury apartment. If he thought of it as being just another fancy hotel room, then he was less likely to compare their upbringing. He was being a fool; so what if they had different childhoods, he’d been lucky with his loving parents. Money only mattered because it ruled his working life. He didn’t have to let it rule the rest of his life too.
“You look sexy.”
“What?” He was too tired for that. “How?”
“All rumpled in that suit, like you’ve been working all day and you need someone to take care of you.”
“And that’s going to be you?”
Freddy held his hand over his chest. “Don’t wound me with such nonsense. Of course, it’s going to be me.” He undid Jaxxon’s tie and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, shaking it out and draping it over a chair. With steady fingers, he undid Jaxxon’s cuff links—Gamble Racing branded—and then undid the buttons down the middle of his chest. Slowly, carefully, Freddy undressed him, until he stood there in Freddy’s lounge in boxer shorts and socks.
“Come and have a shower, then we’ll order some food, and maybe watch a movie in bed.”
He nodded. It sounded exactly like what he needed. “It’s been a long season so far.” He could’ve done with more guidance from Socrates in his first stint as Team Principal, however, it wasn’t to be—Socrates had his own problems that needed focus—and he’d had to figure it out by himself as he went along. Having a good team helped, but ultimately, the final decisions lay with him. The intensity of being in the social media scrutiny had been new too; when he’d been a race engineer it’d been muted compared to the constant comments on his job as Team Principal.
“Come on.” Freddy tugged him towards the shower, and soon enough he stood with his head bowed under the stream of hot water, as Freddy soaped him all over. He was so tired that he was worried that he’d got into the shower with his socks still on. A glance downwards confirmed that he wasn’t.
