Page 35 of Tipping Point
Finnegan Brennan hates being a race car driver.
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CAMILLE
We meet Felix Weber in his office in the Velocity Racing paddock in Montreal. His office is filled to the brim with bric-a-brac, racing souvenirs from his long reign at the top. We discuss Ollie Blythe’s racing so far this year and Felix’s enthusiasm is contagious. So far Velocity Racing is in the lead for the manufacturers’ competition and Ollie is in first place for the drivers’ competition.
We film him candidly. He has a ruddy, open face with big jowls, his salt and pepper hair neatly trimmed. He’s thick in the waistband, but the most obvious thing about him is the sun damage. His crow’s feet are deep and long and when he smiles, his entire face blooms with wrinkles.
“Trackside.” He smiles with white teeth and it’s striking to me that one of the biggest earners of the sport has such an everyday look about him.
“We spend many, many hours trackside testing the cars. Last year we made an enormous improvement on the suspension and Ollie thinks we improved our handling about fifteen percent.”
“It sounds like so little.” I smile at him.
Behind me, Bruce makes an adjustment to the lighting and screws the reflector into place. I hand Felix the clapperboard and he inspects it curiously.
“Ready?” I ask.
He nods, looking between me, Jay, and Bruce, and with a shrug he snaps the clapperboard.
“Is that it?” he asks.
“That’s it.”
I look at the monitor. Behind Felix is a wall of trophies and photographs. The richness of the backgrounds complements his tanned and lined face, the rich cut of his simple suit.
He is amplified, I think, by his life experiences.
We discuss Velocity Racing’s standing in the competition, Ollie’s, score, and his strategy for the rest of the season.
So far, everyone has been sharing their plans and strategies freely.
When we wrap up filming, I watch as Bruce removes the lapel mike and, as the crew packs up, I sit comfortably in conversation with Felix. I have questions.
“Your strategy…” I say.
He nods and leans forward curiously.
“You weren’t honest.”
His laugh booms through the room and he stands up to pour himself a brandy from a crystal decanter. When he raises his eyebrows in a question, I shake my head no.
“I won’t appreciate it,” I say apologetically.
When he sits back down at the desk, Evan wheels his big case out of the room with Jay on his heels. Bruce had packed up in a hurry to chase down Casey. Since Felix isn’t a handsome young driver, she had expressed very little interest in him.
I wonder if she’s seen his wife in the gossip magazines. A younger, tall, slender woman with a startlingly beautiful face. They have young twins, girls, and more money than they could spend.
“How’d you know?” he asks comfortably, not denying my accusation.
“It was the only time you didn’t look me in the eye. Don’t worry,” I say as he makes to speak. “The other principals haven’t been honest either.”
We grin at each other.
“I’m sure you are aware how much money this sport generates?” He’s swirling the amber liquid in the glass and peering at me over the rim. He has curious eyes.
I nod.