Full Throttle

Being Sociable

Waking up in my own bed after a double header was pure bliss. What wasn't pure bliss were the cramps that ran my body that didn't seem to want to cooperate with the painkillers. This was the worst period I had experienced since I was maybe 15 or 16. I'd made a doctor's appointment; said doctor's appointment was in approximately half an hour, which meant that I did have to get out of bed and throw some clothes on. Opting for a light grey hoodie and some black tracksuit bottoms, I tied my hair up into a ponytail and put my socks and shoes on, making sure to have a banana for breakfast before taking my medication and brushing my teeth, grabbing my bag just before I went out the front door. The sky was overcast, and although it wasn't cold, it wasn't exactly hot either. After the race on Sunday, I'd promised Jacob that he could come and stay in Monaco with me for a bit and see what it was like. I'd also called dad and let him know not to bite Jacob's head off when he stopped for a visit. I was starting training again tomorrow. The next race was Singapore, which was both exciting and anxiety-inducing at the same time. It was a big race, very physically challenging because of the heat, and I was worried about how my body would cope. I was going to bring that up when I had my check-up for my heart later in the week. Today's appointment was about my period. I signed in at the reception of the small surgery, and after two minutes of waiting, I was called in.
"Bonjour, je m'apelle Docteur Crovetto, I would just like to say that it is a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Osbourne. Ehm, would you prefer me to speak in English or French? I am fluent in English, so if that would be easier for you to fully communicate your worries then I would recommend that we speak in English."
"My French is not my best language so would it be alright if we speak in English?"
"Yes, no problem. So, why are you here today?"
"I would like to discuss my options in terms of contraception. Over the race weekend, I started my period whilst in the race car, which was far from ideal, and it wasn't due until the end of this week. I don't particularly want to risk that happening again. Furthermore, erm, this is probably the most painful period and the heaviest period I've had since I was in my early teens, and painkillers have had no effect thus far."
"I see. That must have really been a nightmare for you. With your condition, your periods will probably become irregular and when they do come, they'll be heavier because of the medication that you are taking. Have you looked into any contraceptives?"
"I've looked into the pill, but I would probably forget to take it every day with how busy I am. I only just remember to take my heart meds," I chucked. "I've also looked into the implant and the IUD. The implant seems most appealing because one of the side effects, I have read, is that it stops your periods."
"Yes, with you, the likelihood of your cycle stopping completely is very high because of your medications, so that would be the most obvious option. Also, because the hormone it releases is progesterone, it is safe to use with your heart condition."
"Okay. When would I be able to get that?"
"You can get it in today's appointment, if you want?"
"If that's alright, thanks."
"Okay, I just need to ask you a few questions first. Are you sexually active?"
"Yes."
"Okay, and approximately how long ago was the last time you had intercourse?"
"God, this is going to be depressing, um, probably a year ago," I laughed.
"And there is no chance that you are pregnant because you are currently on your period, correct?"
"That is correct."
"Okay, and did you ever have bleeding during or after sex?"
"No."
"Okay, have you read about all of the side effects?"
"Yes, I have."
"Okay, awesome. I need you to sign this consent form and then I will go and get what we need, and we'll get it done."
"Great!"

The past week had been hell. My arm had killed for three days after I got the implant, and Nick insisted on going particularly hard on it so it would stop hurting quicker. It didn't stop hurting any quicker than Doctor Crovetto said it would. Furthermore, my usual doctor had said that Singapore would indeed take a heavier toll on my body and that I was going to feel extremely fatigued throughout my time there, which was fun. My feet and ankles were also swollen and painful again. And, as if that wasn't enough already, Alex, who had recently moved to Monaco as a result of his Red Bull contract, had asked if I wanted to go out with Max, Charles, Daniel, and him on a boozy night out, which led to me reminding him that I wasn't allowed to drink because of the medication that I was taking. Dad was in hospital again after falling down a flight of stairs at work, breaking his collarbone. I was thankful that Jacob was looking after him for me and keeping me updated. I'd also dropped one of the bottles full of my medication, causing the pills to scatter everywhere, and I'd dropped three brand new plates. Overall, it had been a pretty shitty week, and I couldn't even go to a bar and drink it off. I'd streamed a couple of times, playing Rainbow Six Siege and Call of Duty Black Ops 4, and I'd recently started playing F1 2019, which my viewers enjoyed, although I'd skipped racing at Silverstone on the game for now. I wanted to feel normal, like how I felt before I was in Formula One and Formula Two. I wanted to not be recognised for once. I wasn't saying that I wasn't grateful for my fans, I loved them and thought the world of them. It was just the paparazzi and the journalists that I loathed. In my efforts of trying to feel normal, whatever that was nowadays, I had decided to get a commercial flight to Singapore instead of getting a flight with the team. I did talk it through with Franz, he was fine with it. I liked people watching. Sitting and waiting for my flight, reading some of my book and observing the people that hurried past, trying desperately to catch their flights, or families being led by the fathers with their reluctant teenagers dragging on behind them, or gaggles of people in their early twenties going on a lads' holiday or a girls' holiday. I queued up to board my flight, I was flying in Economy. I'd disguised myself quite well, I thought so anyway, with baggy clothes and my hair up in a bun and tucked under a beanie, accompanied by headphones and sunglasses, with a book to hide my face further. I gave my boarding ticket to the person working at the desk. They let me on, not recognising the name, much to my relief, and I found my seat without any trouble. I had a window seat. I liked window seats. I liked looking out at my surroundings. What I liked even more, though, was the take off. It reminded me of accelerating in my car. It was a late flight, and the time at the moment was 8.15pm, we were due to take off in 15 minutes, and the flight would be a horrid 14 hours long. A man sat down next to me.
"Good evening," he said in French.
"Good evening."
"You don't sound like you are from Monaco," he carried on in French.
"I'm not, I'm English."
"Ah," he switched to my first language, "how long have you been living here? My name is Julien, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Jessie. I've had my apartment here for a few months, but I travel a lot for work, so I've only really stayed here for a month and a bit."
"What do you do for work?"
"I, um, I'm a driver."
"Ah, have you driven many celebrities around?"
"Oh, I'm not really a chauffeur, I just get paid to drive around expensive cars."
"Sounds fun. You must get paid a lot to live in Monaco," he chuckled.
"Yeah, I guess. What do you do?"
"I am a photographer. I photograph people and create snapshots of different cultures."
"Do you work for any newspapers or anything?" I asked, trying to keep the dread out of my voice for fear that he did.
"No. I'm freelance. I don't like newspaper photographers very much; they take pictures of unimportant things. I like to take pictures that mean something, pictures that evoke memories. Speaking of which," he pulled a camera out of the bag that he was holding, "would you be so kind as to let me take your picture?"
"I don't really like my picture being taken, I'm sorry."
"Oh, that's okay. I am sorry for asking."
"No, no, it's alright. So, were you born in Monaco? Your English is very good."
"Thank you. I have lived here all of my life. Well, not like that life is very long, I'm only 22," he laughed, "but I was sent to a boarding school in England when I was 12 until I was 18."
"You've got more years than me," I chuckled. "I'm only 19."
"19! You must be a good driver to be trusted with expensive cars! Do you live with your parents?"
"No, my dad lives back home in England."
"And your mother?"
"She died a few years ago, cancer."
"Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay, I'm not upset about it anymore. What about you, do you still live with your parents?"
"No, they live a couple of streets away from me, though. I am so sorry; I didn't tell you my full name. I must be forgetting my manners. Julien Garcia, and yours?" he asked, holding out a hand. I hesitated before taking it.
"Jessie Osbourne."
His mouth dropped open.
"Jessie Osbourne? As in, the Formula One driver, Jessie Osbourne?"
"Please don't speak too loudly, I don't want everyone to know I'm here," I winced.
"I am sorry, I just did not expect to meet Jessie Osbourne on a commercial flight, let alone in economy! I now completely understand why you don't like your picture taken. Can I just say, watching the race here in May was amazing, and you drove brilliantly for somebody in their rookie season. Have you completely recovered after your crash at Silverstone?"
"Yes, pretty much."
"I am very glad to hear it."
"I suppose I can take the sunglasses off now," I chuckled lightly. "And the hat."
I undid the bun, letting my hair fall down and putting the pins in the bag by my feet.
"Mesdames et Messieurs," the air hostess announced through the microphone, making us turn our attention to the other air hostess who stood in the middle of the aisle.

"How long are you in Singapore for?" I asked Julien. We were four hours into the flight and had been getting to know each other a bit.
"Until Tuesday. I imagine that you're straight off to Russia after the race."
"Yep, flight is on Monday morning. I hate morning flights; everyone is always so grumpy."
This made him laugh and agree with me.
"Are you looking forward to racing in Singapore?"
"Of course. It'll be tough because it's so physically demanding, but I love getting into my car, and I wouldn't swap it for the world."
"I wish I could travel as much as all of you drivers get to," he sighed.
"It's nice to be home, though. Um, if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather not talk about my job too much. I know you said that you don't work for any newspapers, but I can't risk another repeat of the article that came out earlier in the year."
"I completely understand, and I am sorry."
"Thank you."
"What is your book about?" he changed the subject.
"Um, it's a book about World War Two, the bombing of Dresden."
"Is it any good?"
"It's very vivid. It's actually scary, to be honest. It really describes in detail the horrors of the firebombing that the residents faced."
"Sounds interesting. Have you read it before?"
"Oh, I must have read it about 5 times. It was my brother's, he loved history."
"Ah, his name was Dylan, right?"
"Yeah."
"I'm very sorry for what happened to him."
"Yeah, so am I. Do you have any siblings?"
"No, I was adopted. My parents only wanted one."
"Well, growing in Monaco, you must have had a life fit for a King!"
"I did," he laughed. "My parents spoiled me. I soon learned not to be so stuck up when I went to boarding school, though. My ego definitely got put down a few notches, and I'm grateful. If I hadn't been to the boarding school, I don't think I would be who I am today."

The warm air hit me when I stepped out of the door of the plane and walked down the steps. I'd slept a little during the flight, but not much. Julien had helped me make sure that my makeshift disguise was all okay just before we landed, and I chatted to him as we made our way out of customs.
"Well, Jessie, it has been a pleasure meeting you and being able to talk to you. I was wondering if you would allow me to take you out to dinner at some point this weekend. Call it a date, if you will."
"I would love to," I agreed, trying to supress the smile that was growing on my face.
"Great!" he beamed. "I'll give you my number."
I typed in the numbers that he gave me and sent him a text so he could put my number in his contacts.
"I'm just saying this as a precaution, but if my phone number becomes public, there will be a lawsuit. It isn't anything personal, I just need to be careful."
"I totally understand, and you have my word that I will not do anything to your number apart from maybe call it a few times to speak to you," he reassured, giving me a wink. "I'll be in touch to sort out the details. I'll see you around."
"Bye, Julien."

It wasn't a long drive to the hotel, and I found Pierre and Charles sitting together in the lobby. I checked in and they walked over.
"Somebody looks happy," Charles observed suspiciously.
"What's happened to put you in a good mood?" Pierre asked, also eyeing me with suspicion.
"Nothing," I said innocently. "Now, let me go and settle in. Who else is here?"
"Daniel got here with Nico not too long ago, and Max is here, the same with Seb," Pierre said.
"Lando said he and Carlos would be here in two hours, George and Kubica will be here in half an hour," Charles added.
"JESSIE!"
"Oh, and Alex is here too."
"No shit sherlock," I said, turning towards my former teammate who was running towards me. He stopped abruptly.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Something's happened, you're radiating happiness and it's strange. What's happened?"
"See! Alex has picked up on it! Tell us!" Pierre exclaimed.
"Nothing has happened! Let me go to my room." I pushed past the Red Bull driver, who grabbed my suitcase from me and walked up with me.
"Spill the beans, what's got you so happy?" he demanded as the elevator went up.
"Nothing, I'm just in a good mood is all," I insisted.
"I don't believe you."
"Good for you."
"Jessie," he dragged out the last letter of my name.
"You sound like a child," I said, walking out of the elevator and down the corridor towards my room.
"Come on," he pleaded. "I won't tell anyone!"
"That's a fucking lie and you know it!" I laughed, opening the door. "Oh, this is beautiful!"
"This is a lovely room," Alex said, propping my suitcase up against the bed.
"Thank you for taking that up for me."
"No problem. Have you spoken to the doctor about this weekend?"
"I have, don't worry. It's under control."
"Okay, good."
"Alex, don't worry, okay? I'm going to be fine," I smiled.
"Yeah, well, I hope so. Now, am I ever going to find out why you're in such a good mood?" he asked hopefully.
"Maybe another time," I giggled. "Now out! I need a shower."
"See you later, Jess."
"Seeya."