Shut Up and Talk

Chapter 12

I wanted to be Ian. I wanted to be respected, adored and gifted. Apparently for this, I required a penis and some God-given talent. Unfortunately, I didn't have, nor want, male genitalia, and had no stomach for egregious speed. Instead, I observed Ian and learned all his tricks.

I told him this on our flight to Germany. A large smile spread across his face and just like everything else in his life, missed the point entirely. I tried in vain to explain that I wanted respect for my expertise and not my breast size and skirt length.

"You want to be me," he gushed. "I'm honoured."

"Geez, I'm just trying to make a point."

"You reckon people respect me that much?"

"Ian, listen for a minute. I want people to admire what I've done for you. I want them to view me like they view Masi and Riedl's people."

"You're much prettier."

I gave up. What he didn't know was that I had a plan. He was going to be my muse for the weekend. I intended to watch his every move and interaction. I'd brought my iPad along to jot down valuable pieces of intelligence and take pictures for our burgeoning Instagram account. My last picture of him in his racing overalls and smouldering expression – he was actually leering at me for taking the millionth picture that day – got me over three thousand likes. I had to admit he looked kind of hot.

But back to my stalking. I wanted to see how he lured unsuspecting women to his bed, kept excellent relationships with his abused racing team and maintained the loyalty of his fans.

I followed him relentlessly on Friday morning and at first he didn't notice. For ten minutes he and Rocco spoke about a model Ian had met the night before at a charity function sponsored by Nizzola, Donato's petrol provider. Ian handed Rocco her telephone number and told him to give her a call. I put that information into my notes and the candid picture of the two of them on Instagram.

Next he bothered the Spandex Girls and told each one of them that he thought she was beautiful. While they posed for pictures, a few of the girls giggled and one blushed. I recorded that too and, well, it's easy to guess where the pictures ended up.

Ian caught up with Gilbert and they spoke at length about proposed regulations for the upcoming year. Ian agreed with most of Gilbert's points and when he disagreed, he remained silent. After the long discussion, Ian asked the Frenchman about his pregnant girlfriend.

"Ian, my friend, you must always use a condom. Oh these women! They ruin us."

Following his delightful conversation with Mr. Gilbert, Ian stopped for lunch. While he ate I made more notes. I could feel his eyes on me and when I glanced up he didn't look amused.

"What're you doing?"

"Organizing my observations from today. I need to bullshit better."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the best bullshitter I know."

He scoffed at the remark and left me in favour of his car. He had meetings with his racing team for the rest of the morning. I stood about twenty feet from the spectacle and watched while he immersed himself in discussions with Franco and Rocco. The car was under-steering and the problem couldn't be rectified to Ian's liking. He implored Franco to help with the situation. Ian showered him with compliments, telling him he was the best technician IRF had ever seen. Franco lapped up the compliments and fell under Ian's spell. Right through the afternoon he helped Rocco and the team work. It was the first time I'd seen him anywhere near Ian.

Ian's lesson had been invaluable. The next morning I was eager for more and when I saw him with The Little Troll, I knew I'd be watching the master. The first practice session of the morning wasn't for another two hours and both were still dressed in their Donato street clothes. They had taken seats at a small hospitality table for the elite paddock visitors. My interest was piqued when Ian laughed at something Winters said. I casually strolled over to the two men and tried to listen. Ian caught me staring and scrunched up his face in confusion and displeasure. I ambled closer but heard nothing. Ian nodded every time Winters spoke. I inched in, a few steps at a time and when I was finally close enough, Winters got up and left. I couldn't believe my horrible luck. I cursed under my breath as Ian motioned for me to come over. He pointed to Winters' vacated seat and I dutifully sat.