Pit Lane Persephone

Chapter 15: Seb

Friday, October 11 – Sachsenring, Germany

Balancing two take-away food boxes in one hand, I knock on Lauren's trailer door with the other. While waiting for her to open up, I glance at the sky. The same thick clouds hang above as those that had been blocking out the sun ever since we arrived in Germany two days ago. Overcast conditions would actually be ideal if they remain for race day, but the forecast for Sunday threatens rain.

Some guys enjoy and even excel at riding on a wet track, but I'm not one of them. Still, with a disappointing fourth place finish in Barcelona, I have to suck it up no matter what the weather gods throw at me. I've caught up with Diego in total points—we're tied for third overall with two hundred and two each—with just three more races left, but it's still any man's game and every position counts. I can't be overconfident. Not after I let the podium slip away by just three-tenths of a second.

The door opens a crack and Lauren peeks through, the end of her hair—up in a high ponytail—wet from a recent shower. Recognizing me, she steps out in baggy sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. "Hey. What's up?"

"Nigel tells me to help you practice the track layout. You have Raceway Pro, right?" When she nods, I lift the boxes. "Good because I have lunch."

She steps aside. "You should have started with that. Come on in."

I go straight for the couch while Lauren grabs utensils from the kitchenette. Her open laptop is on the seat and while I'm no snoop, I catch a glimpse of the screen before shutting and moving it aside. At the top of the purple and yellow page, it definitely read: San Jose Community College.

"Do you think of returning to school?" I ask as she turns on the game console across the room. Studying and racing aren't mutually exclusive, and getting a degree is a good back-up after your riding career eventually ends. But I wouldn't have expected Lauren to be considering anything outside her current commitments, unless she's afraid that she won't be doing this for much longer.

Joining me, she picks up a remote. "I was just checking out what kind of classes they offer. You know, maybe something over the winter semester," she says while powering on the TV. "I play this by myself all the time. Why did Nigel want us to do it together?" she asks expertly changing the subject.

Her plans outside of racing aren't my business, so I drop the topic. Although I expected her question about why I'm here, I'm hesitant to answer. It wasn't exactly our team manager's idea, but admitting that would lead to more questions. And I don't want to reveal that she's been on my mind more than I'd like to admit since Barcelona.

"He wants me to stay out of trouble," I say as she hands me a cordless controller.

"Trouble?" she asks with a grin.

I clear my throat. This isn't a lie, but maybe I should have gone with that first thing. Using Nigel's reasoning actually feels even more awkward. Oh, fuck. Now I have no choice, but to continue. "Nigel hear Nando ask local people about good places to go out drinking."

Lauren clicks through the screens to load the motorcycle racing simulator game. "And what? Nigel thinks you two will sneak off for a pint?"

"Maßkrug," I say to correct her.

She glances at me. "What?"

"They do not call them pints here. There are different glasses for the different beers like Pilstulpe for pilsner, Wizen for wheat beer, or the Maßkrug." I make the shape of an oversized mug with my hands. "Big."