Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I would never do that.” She gasps, cheeks turning red and anger sizzling in her eyes.
I look at her pointedly. “I’m not playing games. I’m not here to revisit the idea of us—I’m here to do a job. To prove that I’m more than my past.” My voice lowers, quieter now, almost cold. “You’re here for your job, and I’m here for mine. Keep it that way. Don’t make me regret letting you stay.”
There’s a long silence. I can feel her measuring me, as if she’s wondering if I’m serious. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. But either way, I can’t back down now.
Bex finally grinds her teeth together, a sharp sound that I know is her trying not to snap back. “Fine,” she says, her voice tight, controlled. “I’ll stay out of your way. You stay out of mine.”
I nod once, my rage still on a low simmer. It’s a truce of sorts, but it feels like the calm before the storm. I don’t know if it’ll last, but for now, it’s all I can do.
Without another word, she turns and walks away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I stay standing there, rooted to the spot, watching her go. Part of me wonders if I made the right call.
The other part of me—deep down—knows I probably didn’t.
CHAPTER 4
Bex
“How surreal is your life?” Amanda Bertram asks as I lead her through the sleek, modern corridors of the Titans Racing headquarters in Guildford. I dressed for the interview today since they’re taking photos to go with the article being written about me in Echelon magazine. My heels click against the polished stone floor as I give her an impromptu tour.
I’d normally be wearing something far more comfortable—suitable for long hours gazing at monitors, but I never mind dressing up. I chose a sleek cranberry wool dress with a plaid scarf around my neck, took time curling my long blond hair and actually put on makeup. It’s apparently a drastic difference because people I’ve been working with since I was hired have done double takes when they see me.
“I think I’ll be saying pinch me for the next few years,” I admit with a laugh.
The main building of the Guildford headquarters is much like the Pittsburgh building. Actually, like most FI headquarters in that they’re immaculately designed with precision and an eye for modern details, just as everything else is in the world of Formula International. The walls are a bright white but the outer-most walls are comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows and open-space cubicles within. It’s a far cry from the worn-in chaos of the FI2 teams, who don’t have the money to put into fancy buildings.
The one thing that is universal though is the steady hum of purpose in the air as we all work toward greatness. I love that vibe almost as much as I love the thrill of race day.
“Here we are,” I say, stopping at the door to my office. It’s not traditional by any means. There’s no executive desk, no fancy leather chair to sink into. Rather, I work at a long bench built into the wall with five monitors spread before me. More large screens line the walls, showing telemetry data, race schedules, weather forecasts and tire wear estimates. The center of the room is dominated by a large round table where the team comes together to hash out race strategies, track conditions and countless other variables. Ergonomic chairs designed to keep pressure off our backs as we hunker over keyboards sit empty for the moment.
I gesture toward the screens. “This is where it all happens. Data is our most valuable tool, and we use it in real time to adjust our strategy mid-race. We track everything—tire degradation, fuel load, competitors’ pit stops, the weather… it’s all here.”
Amanda’s in her mid-thirties and she admitted to me when we met not long ago that she knows nothing about racing. However, she was specifically assigned this interview so she could convey to the women who read their magazine a little about the sport in understandable, approachable terms. She looks boggled as she takes it all in. “It’s hard to even process. This looks like the nerve center of a big brain.”
I grin at the description and think of my father calling me The Brain. “In a way, it is. The strategy engineers are responsible for the big picture—the race strategy—based on the data we get. We take all these component pieces and coordinate with the designers, engineers, drivers and the rest of the team to ensure we make the right decisions at the right time.”
I move toward one of the screens, swiping through race data. “These numbers right here helped us analyze the tire degradation during the Bahrain race last week. We use that information in relation to the weather, other teams’ pit stops, and length of race to make real-time decisions.”