My Formula 1 System

Luca would be honest with himself—this particular Asian man had lingered in his mind far more often than he cared to admit. He couldn't even put it into words for easier explanation, but somehow, this man had become a persistent mental disturbance for him. Whenever Luca had a moment's rest, his mind ultimately flashed back to the Asian man, wondering what he was all about.

That was the thing. It wasn't just about the man's aura or the quiet, mischievous halo he wore, but something deeper—a question Luca wanted answers to and wasn't getting.

As he walked earlier in the direction of the pit lane boy, toward the mysterious delegate, a part of him actually wondered if it could be the man.

Alas, it was him. Smug, cheeky face. Thin lips, buzz cut, though denser than Luca's. And those obnoxious, signature thin rectangular shades perched on his nose, which made him look annoying.

When Luca realized it was him, his mind and body froze as if he were stunned by a silent taser. It took him a brief while before he summoned composure and approached the Asian man. But the uncanniness of everything made Luca wonder if he was in an episodic TV show or something, and this man right here had come into his life to introduce a sullen arc he might not like.

The pitlane boy only watched about halfway through the encounter before his attention drifted elsewhere. He didn't think too much of it, believing it was just another one of those official adult things, wrapped in brief stares, single handshakes, and subtle gestures.

Grown-ups always had weird, quiet conversations in the sport, and Luca Rennick was at the center of many of them. To every ambitious boy out there, Luca was everything: fast, bold… important. So, he was important enough to be summoned by men in suits, or in reverse, the men in suits must be important enough to receive Luca's attention.

The pitlane boy wished that one day he too could be like that; someone who could race and still speak with authority to such figures. With that thought flickering like a dream, he dashed off again to resume his tasks, eager to be helpful and seen.

*******

The Canadian Grand Prix was a resounding success for the FIA and its subordinate bodies. It was a race with high viewership, good enough on-track drama, and quite the controversy from Squadra Corse that kept the headlines buzzing thereafter.

The world tour still rolled forward, five rounds checked, and the fervor that had flooded Montreal all weekend slowly began to wane by Tuesday. The hum of departure was all that was left now.

As early as Monday, Luca Rennick's personal crew was prepped and ready to depart. As always, they were sharp and dutiful, never slow to wrap up their client's operations through race weekends. But Luca called for a delay. He said he wanted to enjoy the beach, but that wasn't the entire truth because his mind wasn't on the sands or sun, though that's where he was actually going.

'Plage de l'Est – Hôtel Clair Rivage. Ask for the river view.'

Luca held the piece of paper in his hand, reading over the short note one more time. After a breath, he folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket, then turned to glance at himself in the mirror. The tailored suit he wore sat well on his frame, but something about the jacket felt too stiff. Instead of thinking about it much, Luca concluded he just didn't want to wear it.

So, he shrugged it off and opted to leave the pale pink dress shirt and a tie. The new look felt more relaxed and lounging.

Vance and Manuela were the ones who escorted Luca by car. The place sat at the far eastern part of the island, remarked for its commanding view of the St. Lawrence River and the soft, secluded stretch of beach that wrapped its shore. It didn't take long for Luca to find the meeting spot.

Under the harsh but golden warmth of the sunlight, with a quiet breeze playing at his collar, he strode across the sand toward the Asian man once more, who still dressed in the same damn outfit he always wore.

While Luca trudged away to the dark figure by the shore, his personal team stepped out of the car to watch him. Vance exited out of security, while Manuela was simply curious. She watched Luca straighten his tie and make his way down the sand.

"Who even is this person Luca's meeting so secretly like this?"

Vance heard her question, but he didn't glance her way as the breeze picked up their hair.

"Secret? We're in the open, Manuela."

"Yeah, but—you get me."

If anyone was in a position to question Luca's meetings, it'd be Vance, his PR, not Manuela, his PA. Vance made her understand this by indifferent responses, and ultimately, Manuela conceded with a quiet sigh.

"You look handsome today!"

The Asian man said as Luca approached. He stood just as before—arms behind his back, posture relaxed, and that ever-smug glint behind his rectangular shades.

"What the hell is even your name?"

"In what way is my name important in this matter, Luca?"

Luca narrowed his eyes at that reply and figured the man was right. He glanced sideways mindlessly. Down the beach, not far off, was a group of people. Luca's eyes caught them when his head turned.

It was the Asian man's group, and they were standing near a black Benz that must've brought them here. They were all dressed in black too, blending a little too well with the polished stillness of the scene.

Luca was wary of the layers that might've gone unseen.

"So you work for Mercedes?"

"Haha. Now you want to talk about anything but the real matter. I told you I'd explain why you and Margot were roadblocked in London… why a gun was almost pulled on you. That's what we agreed to discuss here. Right?"

Luca shrugged. All answered questions would've been better.