ALICE Ch 278

Matt Berry is talking. Val doesn’t hear him or anyone else in the strategy room at the paddock.

The photograph shows gangly Alice beside Mio, who is even smaller than Val. They are surrounded by women that Val knows well. Their FUTA-branded jumpsuits are far more flamboyant than those worn by the original pit crew. The colors are brighter and the fits are tighter. It couldn’t be clearer that these uniforms have been modified to flatter their figures. It mostly works. Sun looks skeletal. Ingrid looks busty.

Val’s eye twitches. “This is fucking stupid,” she bursts out.

Everyone goes quiet. All eyes are on her. She stares hard at the photo. These FUTA veterans all wear the practiced smiles of women accustomed to cameras and attention. Alice and Mio look awkward in comparison. It’s the complete opposite of every other photo of drivers and crewmembers.

“Val?” Matt sounds hesitant.

“It’s not fair.”

Coach Adella has her arm around Coach Riley’s waist. Coach Adella looks cool while Coach Riley looks incredibly sweet and lovely. She’s still wearing her hair in that ponytail.

“It’s not fair,” Val repeats, stunned. “How come they get Coach Riley?”

FF1

The bars in the village near the Hungaroring are perfectly adequate, but there aren’t enough of them. They’re all crowded with spillover F1 personnel. Even drivers. Kylie and Lora are at the counter, working on their second beers of the night.

“We’ll need a new hire.” Lora takes a big gulp of lager and wipes the foam from her mouth. Kylie watches, amused. Not at what Lora’s saying; she doesn’t care enough to waste any thought on that. But Lora’s so intent that she’s forgotten her self-consciousness. She isn’t upset, just focused. Is this what Lora would be like all the time without her anxiety? “It’s as simple as that.”

“Colby’s so sweet. You can’t terminate her,” Kylie says.

“We won’t. But she needs support. More than she’s getting. This pit crew.” Lora makes a face and waves at the bartender.

“I got all their autographs this morning,” Kylie says proudly.

“I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t sound happy for me.”

“I’m worried about Colby. And the race.”

“Ahhh.” Kylie waves a hand and raises her beer. “It’ll be brilliant. That Adella Salazar’s so strong she could do all the tires herself.”

“Dear god. Do you know anything about this sport?”

“Don’t touch the ball with your hands,” Kylie says sagely.

Raised voices cause both women to turn on their bar stools.

Kylie recognizes the white of Haas and the black of Mercedes. There’s a splash of pink and blue as well: Mio is beside Akiko Tanaka. They’re talking to Kevin Magnussen, who is laughing. He is quite drunk, obviously. Men and women from both teams are present. Crew. Engineers. It doesn’t look entirely friendly.

Akiko whispers something to Mio, who fumes visibly.

She glares up at Kevin for a moment, then jumps forward and punches him in the groin. He collapses with a high-pitched noise.

The two teams take that as a signal and crash together, punches flying.

Startled, Lora drops her beer. The shatterproof mug tumbles harmlessly across the floor.

“Oh dear,” she murmurs.

“Crikey,” Kylie says.

Mio’s on top of Kevin, punching him repeatedly in the face while their teams brawl around them.

Kylie gets hesitantly to her feet.

Should she intervene?