[b][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2][/center][/b]

Joel had never spent much time in Corona Park. Being a native of Sol City, and from Southside, it was more of a place you talked about, but never actually visited. The whole Riverside area tended to be viewed as pretentious; full of snobs and hipsters- not his sort of crowd in the least. Still, inside of the last week, he found himself there twice, which was two more times than he reckoned he had spent within the last two decades. A gentle breeze ruffled the black and orange Rebellion flags that were strung up along their expansive hospitality area which was an impressive amalgamation of one the car haulers and a carefully assembled collection of weatherproof fabric sections that formed one of the biggest displays in the park. A set of steps led up to the top of the hauler’s trailer where a “look-out” post of sorts was assembled that afforded a view of the whole festival all the way out to the river. It was the same set up they used on site for a rally. 

Steam rose up from various dishes being prepared and different music blended together in the distance faintly amongst the movement and chatter of people shuffling through the various displays, booths and demonstrations. Joel didn’t pay much attention to any of it, other than the pleasing smell that was impossible to ignore as he sat in the lofted perch alone flipping through his phone reading some of the various international motorsports stories: Drama in F1, driver changes in the WEC, Balance of Power updates for IMSA GT and the opening rounds of the IndyCar season. Every once in a while he might comment on a story within social media, but in general he kept his digital mouth shut from too much controversy otherwise marketing wouldn’t be very happy with him. However, his sarcastic wit was an overwhelming hit with the fans and he had come to find the whole “liking”, “retweeting” and commenting craze mildly entertaining. Just handling his own social media accounts personally was enough for most fans to fall in love.   


The morning had gone smoothly and the public relations/marketing people were exceptionally professional. Everything ran like clockwork for the morning unveiling: A new drink, [i]Maximum Attack[/i] was debuted along with the matching orange [url=https://dedeporsche.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/80_vertical_mediumres.jpg]Porsche[/url] to be entered in the upcoming Vineyard Rally in the southeastern mountains. While not an official WRS event, the decision was made to enter a car partly as a promotional display and partly as a technological display of the company’s racing prowess. It really was one of the [i]best[/i] cars he had ever driven. The grip was there when he needed it and the rear-engine layout allowed him to pirouette around an acute hairpin effortlessly. The German engineers from Porsche had poured over it, white labcoats and all, listening carefully to ever piece of input he offered about the car’s performance until they were fully confident that any other problems could only come from the seat and not the car. As he and the VP of Marketing had pulled the cover off before the assembled crowd, he had to admit, they were probably right. It was a work of art, visually and technologically and the crowd loved the modernized Rebellion [url=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d8/Gadsden_flag.svg/1024px-Gadsden_flag.svg.png]snake[/url] motif.

In the time that followed, they handed out [i]a lot[/i] of free drinks while Joel and his co-driver took photos and signed everything that was put in front of them: shirts, hats, posters and cards, toys, phone covers, napkins… [i]anything[/i]. They both wondered about the condition of a caffeine fueled festival crowd. He’d seen whole families walk by with parents and kids alike chugging on free orange energy drinks. They laughed it off and kept signing and by the end of the first session they’d nearly gone through a box of sharpies and were getting writer's cramp. As much as he really did enjoy the people, he was glad when it ended and let the very attractive girls from marketing take over for a while passing out more freebies and collecting information. He knew his respite wouldn’t last long on the loft as they would soon be allowing public access to the top of the hauler, but it was fresh air and offered a modicum of peace before he’d have to go hide in the hauler lounge. 

The air was cool, though his black team jacket and jeans were fairly comfortable. He kept a matching hat and sunglasses on throughout most of the morning. As he stood up and stretched he could see the fairly large coffee order the team had placed making its way across the lawn being carried in multiple styrofoam trays. Though they were all in full swing about the new drink, everyone working the tent had about all of them they could stand and the cooler weather brought about a consensus for a coffee run, especially when SolBucks was just across the way in their own tent. Joel mosied down to the ground level where the [url=https://live.staticflickr.com/8073/8296422895_4f27f51b56_c.jpg]two[/url] [url=http://cdn.24.co.za/files/Cms/General/d/4678/5195fa2ab9104e979f1693c6580795b8.jpg]cars[/url] were on display along with a plethora of merchandise sporting the signature orange, Rebellion “R” logo in various designs, a couple console-based racing simulators and a large weatherproof sectional sofa that wrapped around a massive flatscreen television. The crowds had died down enough the young girl tasked with the coffee run began setting the cups out on the small table in front of the television. 

“They were freakin’ slammed,” The girl said apologetically as Joel examined the the unmarked cups. She knew his next question. “I tried to get something for everyone, there’s latte’s for the girls, black coffee for the guys, there’s creamer and sugar in the bag,” She shifted the trays around and sat one cup aside. “Joel, i got you an Americano.” She glanced around briefly, obviously stressed and counted the cups. “Let me round up everybody. Guard the coffee!” She shuffled away frantically. 

Sensing the opportunity he’d been waiting for, Joel ungracefully plopped down on the sofa, glanced around for a moment and retrieved a flask from inside his jacket pocket, happily dumping a generous amount of the contents into his coffee cup. It was some pricey bourbon Sio had acquired. He had no idea what it was called. She tended to be a very fancy drinker, but it went [i]really[/i] well with coffee. Enjoying the sweet, blending aroma as the two liquids swirled he nearly dropped the flask when someone barked his name from a distance. [i]Fuck![/i] He scrambled to put the flask away and get the plastic lid back on his cup as a boisterous crowd erupted up from the back of the hauler. He barely got up and spun around before they came around the corner. 

“AH-HA!” A tall, [url=https://resources.stuff.co.nz/content/dam/images/1/b/0/8/1/t/image.related.StuffLandscapeSixteenByNine.710x400.1kn2a0.png/1501040387165.jpg]mountain of a man[/url] lead the group towards Joel. They were all laughing crudely, some of them in Porsche Engineering polos and others Rebellion. Joel recognized the leader as their guest judge, Bruno. TV didn’t do him justice- He towered over Joel and slapped him firmly on the shoulder in greeting. “Here he is! Michael-fucking-Schumacher!” He shook hands vigorously with a grip that felt like a steel vice and rocked the entire upper body. Some took phone pictures as Joel tried to look presentable while it felt like his hand was being crushed. “I tell you, I saw you in Jamaica, fucking brilliant! Beat those fucking French pricks,” He said, referring to the rival team from Citroen. The boast prompted a fresh chorus of guttural laughter. He wrapped a sweeping arm over Joel’s shoulders and motioned towards the cars. “Volkswagen, Porsche, I fucking love it, perfect!” Being on TV, Bruno had a sense for drama and loved being the center of attention. “I tell you my boy, you come to Germany for the rally, you come to my restaurant, you fucking love it, I take care of everything- Complete Relax.” The PR team had mentioned Bruno could be eccentric and his English was not perfect, but the flair of his booming voice and broken dialect was part of what made him popular. 

The young girl who had organized the coffee run motioned to the table for everyone to partake. Bruno of course went first. “Ah, fucking Christ! I haven’t had decent coffee since Lufthansa- I take it!” His massive arm grabbed up the cup before Joel could even get a word out and took a healthy swig. His eyes immediately darted to the small hole in the lid as he swirled what was left of the gulp quizzically through his tastebuds again. “Not fucking bad.” He said with some surprise satisfaction. He turned with the cup in hand and began to walk away with the whole crowd in tow again motioning to the cars as they left the tent, “Joel! Don’t go anywhere! I come back later, we take the cars, I cook for everyone, it will be fucking beautiful!” A raucous chorus of laughter and rapid German dialect followed him away. There were still a few hours until the judging started. 

“Aw, he took your cup.” The girl said eyeing the table. 

“Yep, sure did.”