"Tomorrow is probably the most important race of the season," the Lynx boss was saying. "If we don't win tomorrow, after everything we've fought through this season... I'm asking you, guys, give it everything you've got."
Diego Valcázar and Alan Marti had genuinely been having a great time these past few days. The whole team—not just them—had been partying hard, but lately they had been going to the best places, almost like they were on vacation in Miami. Around the city, everyone knew who they were. Every time people recognized them and asked for photos, you could see it clearly on their faces: they were there for a reason, they were enjoying their position, truly enjoying it.
That same afternoon, before the final race, Valentino Arcos and Matías Roldán met up with them.
"Che... champ..." Valentino said to Marti as he rushed forward to hug him.
"Congrats, guys," Diego said.
"The interview with Crust... a total disaster..." Valentino added. "I'm just glad we're already in the SS10. Journalists don't mess with us as much there."
"The Spanish press is the worst," Diego said. "Though SS10 is even worse—but still kind of lite."
"You're going to win."
Valentino looked at them smiling, almost like he was getting ready to drop a bomb and then run away. He showed them the video of the fake "leak" claiming Christopher was going to join Crust TeamSport.
"Fuck," Diego said. "I'm sure it's fake, but it wouldn't surprise me if it actually happened."
Alan Marti looked at it with a twisted smile, full of doubt, but chose not to say anything. He thought about it for a moment: the GOT podium, himself losing, and Christopher Crust standing in the SS10. His recent interview would age very badly. Still, he could see how everyone was supporting Christopher within the family team. Christopher would undoubtedly come out winning.
That night, surprisingly even to himself, he slept perfectly. During the GOT premiere, he didn't give interviews to any of the journalists who showed up that day. Diego Valcázar did allow it, but when they asked him the very first question—one that was already deeply uncomfortable—he chose not to answer it.
Alan Marti got into his car and gripped the steering wheel with all his strength. He didn't know exactly why, but Christopher's face appeared in front of him, wrapped in a blue light, and said:
"I'm not afraid of the track. I control it, it doesn't control me."
On the count of three, he stepped on the accelerator without thinking. From that moment until he crossed the finish line, he led with a full-lap advantage, and his numbers were so high that it didn't matter that Diego Valcázar finished last in the race. Together, they achieved the best average, which meant the Spanish GOT had been indisputably won by Lynx Group.
Alan had screamed and celebrated so much that he completely lost his voice; he sounded hoarse, as if he'd had the worst night of his life. He didn't even think about it—he went straight to his hotel room. He needed to be able to speak calmly with his family and sleep.
Poor Diego Valcázar had to deal with all the journalists on his own, but it was clear he could answer the questions perfectly. After so long, he was finally receiving attention during the season.
"Welcome to the SS10," a journalist said. Diego simply smiled.
"First question: is it true you were a bullfighter in Spain before entering single-seaters?"
"Yes. I haven't talked about it much, but I'm a professional bullfighter in addition to being a driver."
"I understand your family owns vineyards and has a lot of money. What differences do you see between this world and bullfighting?"
"They're both equally complex and dangerous, but here we are."
"Do you mind if I ask about your social media? If so, tell me and I can rephrase."
Diego let out a couple of laughs before answering.
"I feel like you're referring to the photos. You know. Those photos."
"Yes, exactly those photos. I saw them and I was... absolutely enchanted."
He laughed even harder.
"Yes, it was quite a sensual photoshoot we did in Toledo, the guys and I, for a calendar. It really looked like we were naked—we actually never were—but well, we showed a little more than usual."
"You all looked gorgeous, you especially. If they ask you to show more next time, please say yes."
Diego went back to the hotel after the interview. As he rode up the elevator, he watched how, within seconds, his social media began receiving thousands of likes and followers. He laughed quietly to himself; sometimes uncomfortable interviews had very good results.
While scrolling, a clip suddenly appeared. He thought it was something silly, but they were talking about Alan Marti. He hadn't planned on paying attention, but this was much stronger than he could have imagined. He ran to Alan's room, knocking on the door so hard that even in his deepest sleep, Alan couldn't avoid hearing it.
Between clumsiness and accidental bumps, Alan dragged himself to the door. Diego pushed him back inside and closed the door. He looked almost angry as he showed him the clip.
<<
"So what do we have here?" the video said.
It began showing a bunch of clips of Christopher Crust.
"This is the list of likes from someone who is, without a doubt, a fan of Christopher Crust. No doubt about it. Likes on clips talking about how insanely handsome he is, about how he's not only good-looking but talented, and how everyone everywhere loves him—and if you don't love him, you're clueless. And here's the most impressive part: likes on ten different videos of screenshots of... of Crust's ass. This account looks like it belongs to just another fan of the driver, but guess who owns it? None other than Alan Marti, Spanish champion, ladies and gentlemen, and from his verified account."
"Fuck, fuck," Alan said nervously.
He kept hitting his forehead with his hand while trying desperately to hide all his likes and set them to private.
"You have to do something," Diego said. "I've got it!" He shouted, shaking him. "Just like you are, record yourself, go live right now and greet your fans. Say you weren't managing your TikTok, say you don't even really know how to use that account yet, that Lynx's marketing team is the one handling it. And joke about it: 'Looks like we've got an infiltrator, a Crust fan running my account.'"
Alan crawled back into his sheets and messed up his hair. When he opened the live video, hundreds of people joined instantly, and the number kept rising.
"Thank you so much, guys, for your support," he said. "I've been celebrating, that's why I don't have a voice... fuck. We won the competition, I still can't believe it. Guys... I need to tell you that I've just seen a lot of videos and memes." He started laughing; Diego was surprised by how natural it sounded. "Regina told me—she's my friend, she's part of Lynx Group's marketing team—and she panicked because she messed up. She showed me a couple of videos about this topic. I wasn't managing my account, guys, it was marketing. I just added the account to my devices. I love you all so much, but please don't make things up. I depend a lot emotionally on your support. See you soon in the SS10."
He ended the live.
"Fuck," he said, looking at Diego.
"No, no," Diego replied. "You did great. It was completely believable."
"What if they don't believe it?"
Alan stayed on the bed, hugging his knees. He didn't look completely devastated, but he was definitely upset. Diego sat beside him on the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He seemed even more worried than Alan himself; being a couple of years older, he understood the problem better.
"Well, I'm going to support you."
Diego stayed with him for a while. He brought him some candy and they ate while laughing and talking. He genuinely tried to keep Alan from worrying too much. Alan started scrolling and showed Diego his feed. Nine out of every ten videos that appeared were directly or indirectly related to Crust. Each new video made them laugh harder than the previous one.
"Just statistically speaking, those likes could've easily been accidental."
"It wasn't anything serious," Alan said. "I just thought it was funny that people believe he's a playboy when everyone who knows him in real life knows he's a total asshole."
"Yeah..."
Diego looked at him with a smile, clearly unconvinced, but also showing he wasn't judging him. It was as if he was searching for complicity, but Alan just laughed. As far as he was concerned, he was telling the truth: he was assuring him that he didn't like Crust, even though Diego hadn't asked. Diego, however, was completely certain that Alan was hopelessly in love, and chose to be indulgent.
"Look, we're Spanish. We're known for having no filters, for not holding back our feelings. If you don't want to tell me, or you're not ready, or it turns out you really don't like him, don't do it. But whatever the case may be, I'm going to support you."
Alan didn't look at him. He was sure it wasn't a good moment to talk about his strange feelings, the ones he didn't even understand himself, and at that moment he didn't even care to. He just kept scrolling until, suddenly, he found a new video about himself that had just been posted.
<<
"The kind of confusion these internet things can cause," they said. "So yes, guys, from now on you know you need to manage your social media."
Everyone on the set laughed; some of them were the same hosts who had made him uncomfortable on final day.
"And also remember they're boys," a journalist said. "I wouldn't let my children have social media. I completely understand restricting his access, but the cure ended up being worse than the disease."
"Just because he says he likes a video doesn't mean he likes the guy. That's what a like means. You all have such dirty minds... Anyone who draws conclusions from little information is prejudiced. Prejudice fills the gaps of what people don't understand with the worst possible ideas."
No one really talked about the issue again after that. No media outlet brought up Alan Marti's likes ever again. Apparently, everyone truly believed him.
I suspect that, in that moment, even he believed himself.