ALICE Ch 223

“Cute place,” Alice notes as she sits across from Christian.

“Cheers.” Christian lifts his beer.

“I can’t drink before the qualifier.”

“I know.” He leans forward. He’s not trying to be intense or sinister, although there are notes of both. Alice feels like she should be nervous, but she isn’t. By meeting him in public, she is doing something that can’t be undone. It’s sort of liberating. And, she supposes, it won’t tell Glynda anything she doesn’t already know. Alice is pissed. “Alice, I want you for the rest of the year.”

“What happens to Max?”

“Funny,” Christian says with a grin.

“No, really.”

“You’re asking me if I want you to be the Bottas to Max’s Lewis?”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” This is a little performative… Alice’s true feelings about this offer are a little different, but she needs to present this way. It’s essential.

“Max has had his time,” Christian says with a little shrug. “If you can out-drive him, I won’t stop you.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Yes.”

Alice swallows. It’s not quite what she expected, although it’s probably naïve to take Christian at his word. That’s why Alice has a lawyer.

“I’m listening.”

“I want to put you in a fast car.”

“I’m in a fast car.”

“I want to put you in a reliably fast car,” Christian says without missing a beat. “They’ll make you promises, Alice. And they’ll mean it. But we simply don’t know what’s going to happen. All we do know is that the best engineers work for the big teams. You’re gambling.”

“Don’t act like it’s a sure thing. Mercedes didn’t stay on top forever.”

“There’s evidence on my side. All Glynda has is faith.”

“What about Checo?”

“He’s had a good run. He’ll make a good third driver. Unless you’ve someone else in mind.”

“What do you mean?” Alice folds her arms, but a server arrives before Christian can answer. After they’ve ordered, he resumes his business position with a little smile.

“I understand that you and Faye are close.”

Alice balks. “You think Faye wants to be your third driver?”

“I’m sure I don’t know her as well as you do. But I’m a racer myself. And I’d take anything over driving for my mum’s team. She comes to us for the rest of this year, provided she hasn’t already done a new contract, but I’ve a feeling she hasn’t because it’s assumed. She’s not getting offers. Sure, Williams or Haas would love to have her, but just like FUTA can’t compete with what I can pay, Williams can’t compete with FUTA. Actually, Williams is earning more off those twins than they have in ages. Not them. Anyway, she comes with you now, into the Red Bull family, then she drives for AlphaTauri next year if she’s quick enough.”

“You can’t get her a seat there now?”

“She’ll do poorly. You might be able to adjust to a new car mid-season, Alice. Faye? I’m not ready to take that gamble.”

He writes on a napkin and pushes it across the table upside-down.

Scowling, Alice looks.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, and Christian takes it back and tears it up.

“The Red Bull family isn’t the warmest and most forgiving place,” he says wryly. “It is what it is. You’ll have to deliver or you’ll be looking for a seat, but that’s F1, Alice.”

“Why aren’t you throwing this money at Val?”

“I was a racer myself, Alice. I spotted Max. Now I’ve spotted you. I know what I’m doing. Money is tangible. There are other benefits to joining a proper team.”

“Like what?”

“Fame and prestige, certainly—but I know about the Orlovas. I understand that with FUTA you’re responsible for more than just driving round very fast. But with Red Bull, if you bring those points home, you needn’t worry about anything else. Think it over.”