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“THAT’S IT, MATE. Now lean over the railing, look to the left, chin up, and hold it.”
Alain held the pose while the Australian photographer’s camera whirred. Tiffany had scheduled journalist interviews in fifteen-minute time intervals on the team’s enormous floating hospitality motorhome anchored in the bay. At this time in his motorsports career, he was as practiced in the art of striking a pose as he was in handling a sophisticated Formula 1 race car.
The photographer checked his digital screen. “That’s it, mate, ta. This side was better without shadows from the sun. Thanks for moving.”
“No problem, mate.” Alain bumped the man’s outstretched fist before moving on to the magazine’s attractive young freckle-faced writer. In the background, a DJ played the latest French hits, adding
