ALICE Ch 365

Glynda Darcy is so worn down that even her pride won’t poke its head out. She sits in the bath in her room, the tub full of bubbles and oil that Lotte considerately brought along. Lotte sits beside the tub, leaning with her wine glass in hand as Glynda soaks. There’s room in there for two, and under different circumstances, that’s an intriguing thought—but Glynda can barely keep from having a mental breakdown. She’s way past the level of stress where sex can be a helpful distraction. Lotte’s trying to pull her back from the edge, and it’s working.

“What are you thinking about?” Lotte asks after several minutes of silence.

Glynda smiles sadly at the ceiling. “I’m wondering who will drive the car.”

“Faye and Cynthia.”

The sigh is so deep that Glynda’s chest seems to rise and fall a mile each way. “Faye, maybe. Maybe.” She pulls off her glasses and tosses them onto the pile of her clothes. “Cynthia, no.” FUTA Racing has a reserve driver.

Lotte frowns. “Why not? She is not sick anymore.” Cynthia recently had Covid.

“No, but…” Glynda glowers at nothing in particular. “She has—I don’t know what you call it. She can’t…” She gestures toward her head with a hand dripping bubbles. “She can’t think. Brain fog, they call it. They don’t know how long she’ll be that way. She can’t drive. It isn’t safe.”

FF1

“OK, even if Bea was right and you’re right and it’s all the worst-case scenario,” Riley says, beginning to pace. “What’s Orlova really gaining here? I’m still not clear on that.”

“FUTA and Freedom are both new teams, both American,” Adella notes.

“You’re so hot when you’re being smart,” Riley tells her.

Annette sits on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands. “Bea thought she had her fingers in a lot of pies. Maybe even fixing races because of her ties to sports gambling, but that doesn’t exactly fit. There are good financial motives for interfering with teams and trying to push select drivers ahead. She’s connected to all these Russian money people, and Formula One is a cesspool of sketchy money because of how good it is for laundering. Formula One isn’t a sport, and it isn’t a business, just like FUTA isn’t a reality show. Formula One is a venue for powerful people. Almost like a pretext for us to mingle, and that’s got utility.”

“You know, you get into the bad person mindset really easily,” Riley tells her.

“Nobody gets to be rich and powerful by being nice, Riley. I know what I am, but I don’t think you appreciate what Irina is. I know you guys came to me in the first place, but this is my baby that’s getting screwed with. I think Irina has big plans, and I think what happened today was a message. If Irina’s got Mio like Bea thinks, what happened today didn’t put Patty ahead. Patty was doing fine already. All it did was put Alice behind, and this is not about spite. It can’t be. The stakes are too high. I think that this happening and Bea not answering my calls is not a coincidence. I think she knows FUTA is suspicious, and taking out both of our cars and crippling the team was a message to back off. And I think Bea’s in trouble.”

Riley and Adella exchange a look. Riley folds her arms with a frown. “I don’t know. Crashes happen. People ignoring their phones happen. This isn’t a movie, Annette. In trouble? What’s that even mean?”

FF1

Bright lights shine on the simple chair.

The black bag is ripped off Bea Ruiz’s head, and she winces at the light and the pain. One of her eyes is swollen shut, and her chin is covered in dried blood from her mouth. She peers around at the grimy walls of what, going by the temperature, must be a basement room somewhere.

Then at the six burly amazons surrounding her.

“Well, shit,” she mutters.