My Formula 1 System

"Well, my boss here is a man of benefits, isn't he?" Mallow chimed in with a cheerful tone. "What proposal do you plan to offer?"

Luca swallowed steadily, his feet slightly sweaty as he tried his utmost to remain cool and calm while he explained his reason for being here. Noting that the boudoir chair he was seated on had a delightfully comfy backrest, he gently relaxed, placing his hands on his laps as he readied himself to speak.

"As you know, my mother is quite serious about suing you and the driver who hit me, but under the Federation rules, the body would be held liable for accidents like that," Luca said, adding, "although the driver wasn't intending to hit me, the three of us in this room can tell that was a result of reckless racing, which serves as a good enough suing platter—"

Mr. Vance slammed a palm on the table, the paperwork lifting into the air for a brief moment before settling down with a soft flutter. Luca stopped talking instantly, his words caught in his throat like he had slammed on the brakes.

Shaking his head, Mr. Vance snarled, "Are you stupid, boy? How dare you come here telling me what I know and what I don't?! You were on the track, away from the safer zone out of your own naivety and recklessness. And now, Stadhaven is being fined for actually giving a lowlife like you a chance to make quick, effortless bucks!"

Don't retort, keep it cool. You need his approval. Luca lowered his head. "I'm sorry if my words offended you, sir; I was just stating the lead-in," he responded to the man's outrage.

"Boss? Can we just hear what the lad has on his tongue? At the end, if it's crap, he gets kicked out," Mallow said with a casual shrug, a palm resting under his chin.

Without waiting for Mr. Vance to grant him permission to continue, Luca pressed on. "I'm here because I am against my mother's plan on filing the lawsuit; in fact, I want to bring a swift end to this soft conflict."

Mallow sat up, adjusting his track wear as his gaze flickered between Vance and Luca, uncertainty etched on his face regarding the boy's words. "You do not want the lawsuit to take place?" Mr. Vance asked, his tone noticeably calmer now.

"Yes," Luca replied, feeling the weight of his decision. "I have assessed the whole issue, and I can see that all three sides might end up heartbroken, publicly shamed, or losing a significant amount of money. So, I propose we bring an end to it since I am the one who got hit and could choose to terminate the lawsuit right now."

Mallow nodded thoughtfully, motioning for Luca to continue. "And what's this proposal you think could numb the whole issue?" he asked, leaning forward.

Luca straightened in his seat, realizing he had been gently sinking into the cushion for some time now. His neck itched, and he resisted the urge to scratch it. Am I crazy? Will this work?! he thought, reality crashing down on him at that very instant. Deciding to remain resolute and assertive, Luca continued.

"I am aspiring to become a Formula 1 racer, and I find myself at a pivotal point in life where such privileges and opportunities are not easily granted or attainable. So, in exchange for dropping the charges and acting as if nothing had happened, I propose you recruit me into any local go-kart racing team, where I can sign my first contract."

The room fell silent; Mr. Vance's fingers ceased their rhythmic drumming on the table, his face contorting slightly with a myriad of expressions.

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Luca could see Mallow's mouth falling open in disbelief from his peripheral vision, as his words hung thickly in the air, suffocating him even. Fuck! It's not working.

Slowly, Mr. Vance's expression transitioned into one of amusement as he began to chuckle, the laughter intensifying into a thunderous, villainous roar. The walls of the room absorbed the eruption, and Luca was certain Sara could hear it from behind the door. Why's he laughing? I didn't sound funny, did I?

"You fucking brat," Vance exclaimed, tears of laughter welling in his eyes, a huge grin plastered on his face. Luca could barely recognize him after such a sudden shift in demeanor. "Mall, look at this pipsqueak! What do you think this is? Pro wrestling?! A circus?!"

Ahh, I'm fucked. "But I'm serious, sir. I do want to sign up," Luca managed to say, refusing to be discouraged. He stole a quick glance at Mallow, who had his head bent, giving Luca uncertain hints about his expression regarding the proposal.

"Shut the hell up!" Mr. Vance snapped, his amused face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "What do you mean by that? You expect me to suggest you to a scout and team of Formula 1?!"

"No, sir. I know I'm not good enough for the first division; the fourth or third will be good enough, sir. As long as I begin, that's what matters," Luca replied.

Mr. Vance stared at him as if he were carrying a deadly virus. "You have some guts entering this office to spew such bullshit," he hissed. "No matter if it's Formula 4 or Formula 3, young man, I'd rather lick the hot asphalt than let you—"

"Then I'll proceed with the lawsuit," Luca interrupted firmly, locking gazes with the man. "Stadhaven might be fined again by the court this time—"

Mr. Vance growled, clearing his table with a single swing, paperwork scattering like leaves in a storm. He stood up, pointing an accusatory finger at Luca. "I do not give a flying fuck about that, do you hear me?!" he thundered.

You can rage all you want.

"Okay, let's all settle and calm ourselves, alright?" Mallow interjected, sensing the escalating tension between Luca and Mr. Vance. He got to his feet as well, walking to the table that separated them. Perched at the edge, he faced Luca while backing the enraged Operations Manager. "You say you want to apply as a racer?" he asked Luca. "Why not go through the traditional means?

Why this proposal?"

Luca knew very well that entering a racing academy through an affiliated racing body would favor him far more than an individual application. Individual applications could drag on indefinitely, with no guarantee of acceptance. In contrast, with this approach, they would have to either accept him or he would follow through with the lawsuit. A win for me either way.

Explaining this to Mallow, the man nodded slowly, as if he had a translator struggling to decode Luca's words.

"Mall, don't tell me you're actually considering this brat?!" Vance boomed from behind, his face a mask of fury.

With his arms folded, Mallow turned to Vance and shrugged. "Why not? He's 18, young, not overweight, and has the right racer physique. I don't see why we shouldn't consider it," he replied.

"You're outrageous," Vance snapped, jabbing a finger at Mallow. "And you? Get out of Stadhaven now," he growled, shifting his finger to point at Luca, who remained seated in the chair.

"Boss? Can I speak to you outside for a minute?" Mallow suggested, rising fully from his seat. He walked to the door, holding it open, leaving Vance with no room for refusal.

Vance scowled, shooting Luca a disdainful glare before stepping out of the room.

Once Luca heard the door shut, a wave of relief washed over him. He was finally alone, time to dry his sweaty palms on his pants. I hate my hands. How would I grip a wheel?

"Mall, did you call me out here to talk about that?" Vance asked as soon as they were outside the office, just before Sara.

"Listen, Boss," Mallow replied, his voice soothing, hands raised at chest level. "That kid in there is smart to think this through, and you know it. The gravity of this situation disfavors us, and we can lessen our demerits by accepting his proposal."

Mr. Vance shook his head, preparing to retort when Mallow interrupted him. "We can put in a word and enroll him in some local team. If he gets kicked out, fine; we did our part. If he turns out to be a good racer and transcends, even better. I see no flaws in this—it's a win for everyone.

Are you trying to say you have a personal grudge against the lad?"

Vance's face drained of color, his fury reaching its peak. He ground his jaw, staring at Mallow sternly, fists clenched. "He's all yours, then," he said, twisting his tongue in frustration. "Don't involve me with the pipsqueak."

Mallow nodded, believing that was substantial enough. He had the power to secure Luca spots in several academies or perhaps enroll him in Grey-Husson's. "That'll do," he said, watching Vance storm down the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing against the tiles.

Mallow observed him disappear around a corner of the pristine facility before turning to Sara, who had been quietly listening. He nodded at her and re-entered the office.

As he stood at the threshold, he took a moment to study Luca. Mallow could envision him as a Formula 1 racer—not in Formula 4, not 3, not even 2, but the highest division. He had the perfect physique, and in a racing suit, he might even pass for a seasoned F1 champion.

With a determined sigh, he walked over to Luca and resumed his seat at the edge of the table, crossing his fingers.

Luca looked up at him, expectation etched across his face. Say you accept, I beg of you.

"So, you'll have to know I'll be your agent," Mallow said.

An indiscernible smile cut across Luca's lips. It worked...