It's good to be at the winners' post-race press conference again after missing out in the last two races. With my elbows propped up on the table, I rub the sweat out of my hair with both hands, waiting for the guy on my left answer a question for the assembled media. But I really don't care how Tobei Kojima managed to overtake a gaggle of really strong competitors in spite of dangerously worn tires to finish in third place. I'm still on the high of coming in first. It means I still have a shot at redemption. Today is all mine.

"For our final question, we'll turn it back over to our victor," the moderator says, looking at me. "So tell us, Seb. After such a successful season last year, how do you feel about having your first top-of-the-podium finish two-thirds into the current racing calendar, and more importantly, how does this sudden turnaround change your outlook for the remaining races?"

I place the Dunlop-branded black baseball cap back on my head before replying. "Yes, well it was not that sudden, Andy." With a chuckle, I address the balding man who's been part of the WRRF pressroom for as long as I can remember. Interlacing my fingers, I lean into the microphone in front of me. "For sure my team did a great job in making the best bike on the circuit. Unfortunately, it take me longer to improve my performance on it. But now I feel like we are finally at the same level, and there is nothing that can stop us from getting similar results in future races."

The answer is complete bullshit, but it's what my PR team wants me to say. It's also what the reporters need to hear. For anyone paying attention, the truth is easy enough to see. The bike has always been perfect; there have been no sudden improvements in the mechanics or engineering. My own lack of focus—whether from overconfidence, too much partying, or envy of the extra attention my teammate Austin had been getting—is the only reason for my earlier, poor results.

No doubt it's all on me, but whatever caused it, the curse has now been broken. Today, even in the thirty-two degree centigrade heat and eighty percent humidity, I'd shown hundreds of thousands of people watching in person and on television that Seb Bianchi is still one of the best. Although I'm only sixth in the overall rankings, the gap has narrowed.

"Thank you, Seb," Andy says. "If you can stick around for just a bit longer, we'll get Nigel Clark, team manager of Cadmium Racing out here to join you for a quick announcement. Tobei and Gareth, congratulations again and see you in Australia."

As the riders on either side of me leave the table to make room for my boss, I sit back and pull down the zipper at my neck a few centimeters. It doesn't help much with the mesh of my custom leather race suit sticking to every part of my body, but it does give me something to do while Nigel steps up on the platform and takes the spot on my right.

He's going to announce Austin's temporary replacement, but I'm just as clueless as the reporters who are also here waiting for the big reveal. Actually, some of them may know more than me. While the turnaround time was super fast and the details may not have even been finalized until today, there must have been rumors about who'd have the short-term spot with Cadmium 3Prix. I didn't bother to follow any of it. Motorcycle road racers don't have team orders to watch each other's backs or even help the priority rider win like in some other motorsports. We run our own races, so I don't have a stake in who will share my garage other than an obligatory photo-op for today's on-line announcements and tomorrow's newspapers.

"I know you need to get back to covering the other races, so I will make this as quick as possible," Nigel addresses the reporters. Shifting his focus, he looks straight into the video camera on the tripod in the center of the room. "First of all, I would like to thank the press for covering Austin Harris' unexpected hiatus as respectfully as you all have. Austin is currently at home with his family, getting the much-needed rest he needs to return to Cadmium at his full potential next winter, but until then, he sends his best wishes to everyone 'ere in the paddock."

Nigel pauses for a moment as the men and women in the audience smile and nod. "Austin's loss has been felt by the whole team, and while Seb's incredible performance today was a testament to the great work that everyone at Cadmium Racing puts in throughout the season, it was always my intention to find a replacement as swiftly as possible."

I rub the fingers on my right hand together, wiping the sweat that had accumulated in the last few minutes. There's no way Nigel could have gotten anyone better than me on such short notice, so I shouldn't care about who'll step out from the hallway when he gives the word. But my knee under the table can't stop bobbing up and down. Maybe I would feel differently about this announcement if it had come on any day other than when I'd finally won a race again.

"With that said, let's get to it," Nigel continues. "Like Austin, our new rider also happens to be from America and comes with an impressive list of achievements including holding the fastest lap record at the Sonoma Raceway in the under-fourteen age group, winning the 2015 California junior road racing championship, and having the second highest points for the two-fifty class in the current US Road Racing Association season."

Murmurs run through the crowd as those in the know put the pieces together, but I still have no idea who he's talking about. The international circuit is the highest tier of motorcycle racing, and as a rider in one of its three performance categories, it's what matters to me the most. While I follow the Italian and Spanish national series because those tend to produce the most new talent for WRRF, I don't have the time—or the interest—to follow all of the individual national championships. Still, I sneak a glance at the side entrance, but only Cadmium's press officer Nicola Parker and a buff, black man stand in the opening.

The petite Brit motions to someone down the hall to come forward, and the spandex team shirt stretches to the limit across her perky boobs. I look away and adjust myself under the table. What the hell? The woman is married, almost ten years older than me, and a bossy bitch. I can have unlimited pickings from much less complicated sources and this is what gets me off? I seriously need to get laid.

Nigel apparently doesn't care about my struggle of conscience as he stands and gestures toward Nicola. "You will all, of course, get a printed copy of our official statement in a few minutes, but first I'd like to welcome Lauren Dimas as the newest member of the Cadmium Racing family and open the floor to questions," he says.

Laurent? Okay, so now I'm intrigued. My new American teammate has a French name. Maybe this guy is more European than his resume suggests, which could be a welcome change especially if he's closer to my age than Austin. It's not like I mind mentoring younger riders, but sixteen-year-olds are still boys, especially if they are from America.

Nicola steps aside, and two photojournalists run closer just in time to start snapping pictures of an unfamiliar girl. With golden skin, full lips and straight, brown hair down to her elbows, she's totally rocking her button-down, Cadmium pit crew shirt as she walks in the room.

My gaze travels down the length of her skinny jeans until it occurs to me that she isn't so unfamiliar after at all. As she embraces the large man in the blue shirt, I recognize her as the girl from the pit box earlier. She was in the way as I hurried to my bike, and the look on her face when we momentarily locked eyes had stayed with me. She'd been a startled little lamb with just a hint of a lioness ready to tear your limbs off if the situation warranted. My grandfather has a way of describing girls like this. He'd say she had the face of an angel and the heart of a fighter.

I resist the urge to smile, but mentally thank Nigel for hiring another hot staffer until Nicola ushers the girl up on the platform.

"Merda!" I exhale the expletive before I can catch myself, but my mic isn't hot and no one notices. They're all too busy watching the girl head for the chair on my left reserved for my new teammate.

Sure, there are girls in 3Prix—and even in higher categories—but only at the national level. There haven't been any on the international circuit, so for the first one to be at Cadmium is a bit of a bombshell. No wonder Nigel didn't want to tell me in advance.

To hide my surprise—or perhaps even shock—I square my shoulders and stare ahead. Andy stands again to get the interview going. "Welcome, Lauren. To start, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lean forward. I'm used to girls who look like her serving drinks at beachfront bars, not participating in my press conferences. This is a bit surreal, but I can't say I'm not curious.

"Nigel really has covered the highlights, so there really isn't much more to say." Her voice is soft and confident, without the usual nervous anxiety of rookies. "But let's see. I'm almost eighteen, I'm from a small town near San Jose in California, and I'm just extremely happy to be here."

A reporter from MotoMonthly magazine raises his hand and asks the next question. "You've been very successful on the American circuit this year, so what made you give up a chance at a championship title to join this lot?"

That is a spot-on question. If she was second in her series at home, she must either be so good that she thinks she can replicate that performance among us, or she doesn't care about the trophy and everything that comes with it. To me, both are equally unbelievable.

"When Nigel Clark calls, I don't know any racer who would say no. My dad actually had to hide my passport so I wouldn't be on the next flight out," she says, and the audience laughs. Two questions in and she has them charmed.

"What are your expectations for your time with Cadmium?" asks someone in the back.

She doesn't waste time answering this, either. "I want to learn as much as I can, help the team make my bike even better than it already is, and hopefully earn a few points, too."

Nigel crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, contently nodding along. Not as fooled with the canned answer, I frown.

"Judging by that look on your face, Seb, today's reveal has taken you by as much surprise as the rest of us," notes another reporter. A few people chuckle again, but I ball my fists in my lap while waiting to hear if there will be an actual question. As if sensing my annoyance, the man clears his throat and becomes more reserved. "So with the cat out of the bag, as it were, could you explain how it makes you feel to have the first female rider in international road racing as your new teammate?"

I'd practically grown up in pit lane. And I also know girls. Paddock princesses are a regular part of racing life, and I've taken full advantage of the offerings. But this girl—my new teammate—is no gearbox groupie. She's a legitimate athlete who'll be sharing my garage, my racetrack, and my life for the next two-and-a-half months. And quite frankly, I don't know how to feel about that.