Chapter Text
f1gossippofficial via Instagram Rumors spiral that F1 will be adding a 12th team to the 2026 grid, Ford Motors F1. It's also rumored that their team principal is 3-time F2 WDC runner-up and 2-time IndyCar Series winner, Luca Zuniga. Luca would be the youngest team principal in F1 history, beating Christian Horner by 6 years ...see more
"What the shit?" I say under my breath as Jack, my boyfriend, leans over the plane's armrest to see my screen. The post picture is a graphic of myself in my corporate Ford top with the words,
Ford to join F1 Grid in 2026,
above my head. Underneath me, it says,
Luca Zuniga, former F2 and IndyCar racer, to be Team Principal.
"I didn't know you guys announced it already." He leans back in his seat before adding, "I thought you were waiting until Media Day."
I also thought that, I think to myself before closing Instagram to open my email. The first thing I see is that I've missed approximately 200+ emails since I've last checked, which was no more than an hour ago. The only one I care about is the one from Jim Farley, the CEO of Ford and my big boss guy. Before I can even find his email through the hundreds of others, his name pops up on my screen. I take a small breath before answering the call.
"Yes, Jim?"
"LUCA, WHAT HAPPENED?!" He shrieks into my ear and I wince. "HOW COULD THIS HAVE POSSIBLY LEAKED?! We need to prepare a statement as soon as you land, and Emily will be waiting for you."
Everytime I think I've forgotten that Jim sent his daughter to be my PR manager, it's things like this that make me remember. And then it registers to me that Jim is having us prepare a statement, which means we didn't announce this early. That means this is a real leak.
Oh, fuck.
"Jim, wait," I say with disbelief. "This is an actual leak? Like, you didn't just announce it without telling me first?"
I can hear his thinking face come on as he pauses before he speaks again. "No!? Why would I do that, Luca?! I have never done anything for the sake of the team without at least telling you first!"
That's a lie, but I'd like to have a job after this season, so I refrain from a snide comment.
"Yes, of course," I sigh and Jack places his hand over mine on the armrest separating us. I shake my head as I correct myself, "I mean, no, of course not, Jim. It's just, well, this is all a shock to me."
"You and me, both, Luca!" He takes a small breath, like yelling at me through the phone winds him, before adding, "And that's exactly why we have to take care of this as soon as possible!" I hear rustling on the other end and I assume he's looking through emails about how this could have happened. "We're still investigating as to how this could have possibly gotten out, but until you and Emily come up with a statement, do not have any presence online, whatsoever. We can't risk any backlash. The FIA already hates me- I mean, the team."
I roll my eyes, thinking of all of the many ways Jim could have gotten onto the FIA's bad side. It probably has something to do with us pulling out of a certain engine deal we had with McLaren in order to establish our team, causing a ruckus on the other side of the pond, and almost making them pull out of the 2025 season, but that's just my guess.
Jack's thumb rubs over the back of my hand before he goes back to writing on his computer. I glance over to him, just to see the crease in his brow as he thinks, before Jim is loud in my ear again.
"Listen, kid,"- I hate it when he calls me that -"You know so much more about this stuff than I do, so I trust that you and Emily will come up with something that makes sense, and she'll have all the information you need when you get there. Until then, we're gonna keep trying to figure out who the hell let this slip!"
I nod my head, then respond aloud because he can't hear a nod. "Okay."
I take the phone away from my ear before I hear him speak one more time.
"Oh! And Luca?"
"Yes, boss?"
"Good luck at Media Day!"
I hear him laugh at his own joke before the call cuts.
"I hate your boss," Jack whispers as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I smack his hand away and say, "Fuck you."
The way my boyfriend and I show affection is quite simple: insulting each other with a smile on our faces and a twinkle in our eyes. He closes his laptop and his eyes, then grabs my hand and squeezes before he goes limp. I start to hear him lightly snore and feel my insides go all warm and gooey and fuzzy.
With my phone still open, I go back to that stupid Instagram post. There's only 5 comments, which tells me that the page is a smaller one, and I know I shouldn't, but I open the comments.
The first two are in a language I don't recognise and, between the two, have 5 likes. The first one has a face-plant emoji, and I don't like the sign of that, but I press the translate button anyway.
l3cl3rc.sa1nz.4ever There's a reason women can't be in Formula 1. This is going to crash and burn in their faces. What has happened to this sport🤦
I had prepared for much worse. I've quite literally been called slurs on my own page during my IndyCar career, so this person's concern with what's in my pants is almost flattering. Almost. I'm hoping this next one is better.
n0rr1s_fan4 Isn't she Lando's age? I remember there being rumors of her joining F1 in 2022 before Daniel joined and she moved to Indy Car. Hope she does well
Oh! Are my eyes wetter than usual? No, I'm not crying over a random comment on Instagram. I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands and read the third comment, which in English. I have to blink multiple times to confirm that I'm actually reading what the comment says.
fer_th3g0at Women have never been in Formula 1 and don't need to be. Get her out of here. There's a reason McLaren got rid of her.
I look around with a stumped look on my face, hoping to find any cameras and a person saying I've been pranked. People can literally be so fucking stupid, I want to laugh. Before that, even, I want to wake Jack up and show him the ridiculous comment. I won't though, since he'd kill me if he knew I was looking through these comments. The second thing that comes to mind is taking a screenshot and sending it to Fernando Alonso himself. He would probably find out who the person is and legally request that they stop using his name and that they stop being his fan entirely. I decide against it, since its the first race weekend of the season and he most definitely has much more important things to worry about. Like being a 2x WDC and driving a midfield car.
The fourth comment is actually a response to the previous comment, and it turns out to be from the gossip account itself.
f1gossippofficial As a page ran by women, we don't tolerate fake fans like you, who hate on women simply because they are women. Our page has been reporting on Luca since 2022 and we can confidently say that we support this decision from her to take a step back into motorsports. If you want to be sexist in a Formula 1 fanspace, you'll have to find somewhere else to do it.
Holy shit. I certainly wasn't expecting supoort that explicit and uplifting. I'm a little conflicted on the support of a gossip page, but I can't help it if it feels really nice that these people have been supporting me for two, maybe three years. I am so tempted to repsond, just say that I appreciate their words, but I do believe that Jim himself would fly to Australia and kill me if I did.
There's one more comment, and its a GIF of Lando asleep in the cockpit before spotting the camera and smiling. It makes me smile, too, and I close the stupid app.
I hold Jack's hand a little tighter in mine and rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes and leave a small smile on my face. Who gives a fuck about a couple of haters online when I'm literally friends with half of the grid, and best friends with Lando fucking Norris.
I wish I could say that I didn't miss Melbourne, but landing here makes me realize just how much I miss this schedule. It's so warm in Australia at this time of year that it makes me forget that I'll be celebrating St. Patrick's Day next week.
Before we even leave our gate area, there's paparazzi. I see them before they see me, and I whisper to Jack to keep him head down. We manage to make it to baggage claim before anyone spots us. And, of course, it's Emily Farley who does.
"Luca!" She yells as she jogs over to where we’re waiting for our stuff, cellphone in hand.
There's a single white flash, and Jack groans as his head tips back in disappointment. Then more white flashes follow while Emily takes her time to catch me up on current events.
She reads off her phone as she speaks. "Apparently, people noticed the construction for new hospitalities are too big to be for one team, so people started to investigate, you know, which brands are causing problems, and wouldn't you know, we fit perfectly in that category!" She smiles a big, fake, white girl smile that, instead of being nice, only makes me want to punch her square in the nose. "Then people were really curious, like, you know, 'Who could be the team principal?' blah-blah-blah! But 'internet detectives' or whatever, noticed you were spending a lot of time with Dad,"- She cringes -"Jim, around the time it's presumed the team was starting to form, and you have history in Formula racing and I guess people took it as a sign?"
She says the last part like she's unsure.
"Well, they connected the dots, I guess!"
I've known Emily since I first started racing at IndyCar with McLaren, but this is the first time I'm going to be around her a lot. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to handle it.
I'm not looking at her while she speaks, instead opting to try and find our luggage along with Jack. I interupt her after she seems to talk for minutes, finally grabbing our things.
I raise my eyebrow as I ask her, "Are you driving or...?"
If she wasn't wearing a quite thick layer of foundation, you would have noticed the bright pink from her neck branch into her face.
"Uh, no," she laughs awkwardly. "No, we have a driver waiting outside."
She motions to the automatic doors as the airport security struggles to keep the paparazzi at a distance. I attempt a smile to hopefully cover the blush blossoming on my ears, feeling like I've been caught in a lie.
It's not like I have, of course. It's in my contract that I'm not allowed to speak about Ford Motors F1 or our involvement with McLaren until the date of announcement, which was supposed to be tomorrow. We haven't exactly signed drivers yet, but Jim says he has a few in the cards. I'm not sure exactly who he's talking about, but if he has any rookies on his roster, I'll probably be the first to shut that thought down. A rookie American team is going to be hard enough to sell to Formula One fans, let alone fighting against another American team, but having a roster of rookie drivers? I'd renegotiate my contract right then and there.
The paparazzi follows us out to the car, where the airport security just stops trying. The driver of our black Ford Expedition gets out to help us place our suitcases in the trunk before we all head into the car, driving far from airport paparazzi. I'm sure we will meet plenty at the hotel too. Emily took the front seat and Jack and I have the back. She's opted not to wear her seatbelt, instead facing towards us in the backseat.
"Now, obviously, we need a statement, and since you know Formula One fans the best, we figure you would know the right way to confirm this." She doesn't look up from her phone while she talks. She must notice that I haven't taken out my phone yet, because she finally looks up from hers. She gives me a pointed look, and I give a small sigh, not knowing I’ve been holding my breath.
I open Instagram, not really caring about the fact that my notifications have probably peaked today more than when it was announced that a female driver was going to be in F2.
"Do you have a picture you want me to use?" Before she answers, I add, "Because I really like the one from F1 Gossip, the one of me in my Ford getup."
Jack lets a light snicker past his lips and I want to strangle him.
"No, I'll just airdrop you the one Ford wants you to use." She gives me a fragile smile, not at all like the one she greeted me with no less than 10 minutes ago.
I accept the photo, and I'm not even in it. It's just a boring picture of the Ford logo that says we're officially announcing our F1 team.
Yay.
I add it to a post, then hand the phone to Emily to type down what I'm about to say. She takes it gingerly, almost like it's a bomb.
"Ford has asked me to officially announce to you that we are joining the 2026 F1 Grid. Yes, I will be stepping up to take on the role of team principal, despite having a year away from any tracks. I know there is discourse about our deal with McLaren and my capabilities, but to be honest, I don't know any of the details about the McLaren stuff. If you want any information about that or my job promotion, why don't you take it up with my big boss man, Jim? Much love, Luca Zuniga, 2-time IndyCar Series winner."
The car is quiet for a bit, before Emily starts, her voice a little low.
"I don't know how much of that we can say, Luca."
"Eh, just use as much as you can." I lean back in my seat and try to settle in, before I reach back up and grab the back of her seat. "Oh, but make sure you keep in the part that I have no idea what the deal is with us and McLaren."
Her eyes widen slightly in disbelief before she forces her face back to neutrality.
"Yep, got it!" She sicks her nose back into my phone and she furiously types away.
Jack leans over to whisper in my ear, "You're being a dick, dear."
I turn to face his ear and chuckle quietly. "Yeah, I know." I lean back, then kiss him on the cheek. "I promise, once I take a good nap, everything will be fine."
Emily hands my phone back to me as we pull into the hotel parking lot. Though I'm sure some paparazzi followed us, there's none waiting for us at the hotel yet. Emily is also staying here with us, though she's not anywhere near our room. She says a quiet goodbye as she steps off onto her floor and Jack and I go up a couple more.
The room is quite luxurious, but that's what you get for going to the country of spiders when you hate spiders; you pay extra and they make sure everything is spider-free. The one big bed in the center of the room is calling my name, and the suitcases are abandoned on the floor near the door. I flop onto the bed and crawl under the covers, still fully clothed, though I'm only wearing a hoodie and sweats. Jack follows quick after, also desperately needing to fix some of the jet lag.
"Did you set an alarm for tomorrow?" He asks, all groggy.
"Mph," I mumble in a 'yes' tone into his sweatshirt. I set my phone on the nightstand, not caring enough to charge it, which is probably a bad idea. He wraps his arms around me as I settle one leg in between his, and slowly, our breathing syncs up with one another, as we drift into sleep.
I'm far too warm underneath all of my comfy clothing, and I wake up tired and sweaty. It's late, probably one or two in the morning, and I require a glass of good, cold water. I move myself out of Jack's arms and open the mini fridge and open a water that probably costs 10+ dollars. After not eating dinner, I drink maybe half of the bottle before putting it back and settling back into the cozy cocoon that is my boyfriend. He hums in satisfaction as he feels me back in his arms, and I place my face back into his chest.
"Luca?" He quizzes, voice hoarse with fatigue and sleep.
"Mhmm?" The sound in muffled into his sweater, but I'm sure he still hears me because he asks, "Are you sure about this?"
He's asked me this question probably a million times throughout the almost 10 years we've been together. The answer is usually an immediate yes, but this time, I hesitate. I think, for a second, to blame it on my sleepiness or my nerves, but I truly am not sure. I really took a gamble with this, I know. Like that one Charlos fan account said, this really could blow up in my face and Jim's. I could handle it, since it was far worse to willingly turn down a F1 seat, but Jim is not super good with things not going his way. I blame it on the fact that he's grown up as a spoiled white boy, but he does try. Just like Jack always has.
"No," I say to him with no intention of explaining myself, but I add on, "but I'm glad you're here."
He doesn't say anything and, based on his breathing, I'm thinking that he's fallen asleep when he sighs into my hair. I feel a smile on his face form as he says, "Always."