Chapitre 23: A Chance Martin Didn't Want

Several days have passed since the second intimate meeting with Steve, during which nothing has changed between Martin and Paxton. Paxton was still completely ignoring him, and Martin still had no idea what to do to win his heart, or at least his attention.

Martin was never too daring, but when he dealt with girls, he could take the initiative. Actually, he never had any trouble finding a girlfriend willing to go on a date. Now, however, he was in a completely different, even the opposite, situation. This time it was he who had to be favored by someone, not just anyone, but Steve Paxton himself.

And time was running out and Martin's adventure with this stable was coming to an end. The stable, however, despite his personal problems, lived its own life. It was especially interesting that day.

Martin watched the arguing men with the curiosity with which he watched the seals perform in the aquarium. What he saw was really unusual and he really regretted being in the bathroom when it all started.

"What is going on? He asked quietly one of his colleagues."

"There are new improvements that we have been waiting for and the manufacturer wants to get telemetry reports today, but we are missing one driver."

"What? Who?"

From what Martin could see, both Steve and Jack were there, even though they both looked glum. Steve looked pissed and Jack looked guilty.

"Jack showed up today with a sprained ankle. He says it is nothing serious, but he must be careful with his ankle for at least ten days. So intensive workouts are eliminated. And our new third driver hasn't arrived yet. Bad luck."

"Bad luck," Martin agreed, understanding Allen's nervousness as he argued with Jack's agent, accusing him of being thoughtless.

Everyone knew how important these tests were. Each season brought some new changes and interesting technological solutions. Constructors competed in design, but Fergus's stable couldn't afford to risk hiring someone new. That is why they wanted to cooperate with the current leader when it comes to technological solutions, especially since having such a brilliant driver as Paxton in the stable, everyone aimed at the first place in the overall classification this season. It is known, however, that even the best driver is not able to win when his car deviates from the competition for the class. Therefore, they needed new, high-quality equipment. However, quality costs dearly, and it was an open secret that the Fergus Stable was in financial trouble. So Karl Walton bent over his ears to get them the best equipment at the lowest possible price, so he negotiated that they would be used as guinea pigs for trade. Today's testing was especially important as the season was about to start and the constructor wanted to make the last changes quickly.

Martin glanced at Jack and saw that he was really worried about this setuation. Everyone was anxious to introduce these improvements, but if the manufacturer does not receive anything in return, he will charge them an exorbitant price or give his product to another stable.

Usually the stables had three or four drivers, but Fergus was very unlucky with injuries. Their third driver, Steve, had to take the place of first driver at the end of the season, and his successor broke his leg and was out for at least three months. The search for a good new third driver was not easy as most had contracts already signed. Eventually they found someone, but the guy was still in the process of signing a deal and wasn't due for two days.

So the Fergus Stable, to put it mildly, was screwed up at the moment.

"I don't know what the fuss is about. It's just a few laps." Jack tried to ease the situation. "I don't even have to make an effort, because it's not about speed ..."

"Shut up," his agent growled. "We're not risking anything more serious."

"Hey, I'm not porcelain," Lambert smiled and winked at Martin, assuring him of his well-being.

Allen followed his gaze and found the face of the young mechanic.

"Martin," he said in a strange tone, " get into the driver's suit."

"What? I?" Martin felt stunned by the command. The eyes of everyone in the crowd fell on him. Steve's eyes were on him especially intensely. It was so piercing that it pierced it right through.

"We are in a difficult situation, and only you drove on the track."

"But not on this one!" he tried to defend himself. "I've never even sat in a car like that!"

"You know it inside out. It's not about racing, it's about making a few laps. We have to check both cars at the same time. Do not whine."

"But…" Martin felt a flush of heat and piercing cold simultaneously. He hasn't raced since time immemorial, and even then he couldn't cope with jitters, and now these people urge him to get into a vehicle costing hundreds of millions and pretend to know what he is doing. Martin had the feeling that either they were crazy or he was going to go crazy.

"Take one of my coveralls," Jack smiled brightly. "I'm only a little taller than you, so you shouldn't be that uncomfortable."

"But ..." he tried to defend himself. His jitters was so strong that he was starting to panic.

"It'll be all right," Jack walked over, barely limping, patted him on the back. "Don't make a martyr of yourself, it doesn't suit you."

Martin blushed, feeling a surge of anger at Jack for teasing him. Driving such a car was no fun, it was serious! But Jack's friendly pat had lit up a spark of competition and a dormant longing for the track.

"All right," Martin growled at Allen. "But don't blame me if something doesn't work out. And I don't cover repair costs with my insurance."

"Okay, okay, let's go," Abe urged him.

Martin felt a great jitters putting on the driver's suit with Jack's help. He recently raced two years ago and did not do very well. He was not a natural driver, and he was painfully aware of it. The stable, however, needed these data and Allen was right that only Martin had experience as a racing driver. Plus, it wasn't a race and the cars will not be top speed. So Martin just had to go to the track to collect the data. But it was hard for him to bear the thought of the humiliation that lay ahead when everyone saw how hopeless he was.

"I didn't know you were the driver," Jack tried to be nice as always. His voice was gentle and warm, but also had a hint of appreciation.

"I'm not," he replied grimly. "As a kid I raced in amateur races, but I had no chance with the pros."

"But you liked it, right?"

"Maybe. Some."

"Martin, this is not a race. You are not a professional and we all know that. Nobody expects miracles from you. You just have to follow Steve for a few laps and not lagging behind too much."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, blushing. Paxton on the track escaped the best drivers.

"Sure it's easy. You know the track by heart, you just have to feel it. Same with the car. You will take mine because it already has hardware installed ..."

"What? But…"

"No worries. I trust your skills."

"You haven't seen me drive," muttered Martin softly.

"Right, but Allen did. Otherwise he wouldn't let you into the car."

That's right, Martin had to admit. Allen not only knew that Martin was racing, he had even been to his races several times. That calmed Martin down a little. If Jack and Abe trust his abilities, so should he.

"You know, Jack, you're right," he assured himself with more confidence than he actually felt. "I'm going to kick Steve's ass at the track today."

"Hallelujah, brother," Jack laughed. "Hallelujah!"

Martin knew the track, he knew it well, because he watched it live and recorded dozens of times while analyzing the data collected during the training sessions. Sometimes, with Allen, he even had to climb on it to check the quality of the surface, graters or other elements. He even knew there was a small, treacherous lowering in the second stage that could be a problem for inexperienced drivers. But knowing it all in theory and being able to put it into practice are two very different stories.

"Take your time," Allen told him, shoving him into the car. "Take as many laps as you need to get used to the machine, and when you are ready to drive faster, call the radio so we let Steve go."

Martin just nodded. He was too nervous to answer anything. Nobody expected miracles from him, and he did not promise miracles. All he had to do was get in the car, get on the track and do a few laps. Piece of cake. Really.

Nervousness ate him until he hit the first straight. Then Martin felt the power of the engines and the adrenaline that came from being on the track and driving such an expensive and fast machine. The car began to carry it alone.

"Don't go crazy," he heard Allen's cold voice on the earpiece.

"What?"

"I'm saying don't go crazy. It's just training and you don't have to flash as a driver but collect data."

"Oh yeah, yeah," he replied, a little angry at Abe. He wasn't going crazy, after all. What is all this fuss about?

He was only entering the second lap when the second car caught up with him just behind the finish line.

Martin felt angry. After all, he was supposed to take as many laps as he needed and only then Allen would let the experienced Steve go to the track.

"And what the hell he's doing here?" He muttered to himself. "He's always in a hurry, moron."

But Martin's heart began to beat faster. He realized he was on the same track as the man he loves, side by side, in the cars of the same stable. The sudden thought excited him and it really made him happy.

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