Montero - Toto Wolff

32: Quitter

THE SUMMER ENDED almost as quickly as it had begun, with the days growing shorter as you spent the nights wanting Toto more than ever before. And when you weren't wanting Toto, you were busy avoiding him and Susie at work, not wanting to be the topic for any gossip like you had been.

Toto himself had gotten so much better. His medical condition had been appropriately treated (perks of being a literal millionaire) and you could tell, which was the worst part. His hair had a certain lustre to it, the chocolate brown strands looking like they were begging for you to run your hands through it. His eyes looked bright and full of life, the coffee swirls of his iris' deliciously intimidating you once again.

You pulled your coat around you, "The rain isn't letting up," you commented, your hand stuck out into the dampness of the air lingering over the Spa-Francorchamps circuit and collecting the rain water.

All weekend it had been raining, the drivers tiptoeing around the circuit like they were terrified of the next corner, which they were. You were terrified as you watched Ryan go through Eau Rouge and do her warmup for her quali lap.

Next to you, Bono streaked his hands through his greying hair, "It's getting worse," he murmured as Ryan started her flying lap.

She put in a purple first sector, descended down on Eau Rouge, picking up speed as she had the entire track for herself. As she made her way to the run off, her back end spun out on her, your eyes going wide as she slammed into the tyre barrier of Radillion, pinballing immediately across the run of the straight and ending in the middle.

"Fuck!" you yelped, getting out of your seat and not knowing what to do with yourself.

Everyone knew that Eau Rouge had been fatal for crashes for the entire history of motor racing, and seeing your best friend pinball across the track and being in a coffin sized vehicle was enough to bring bile up into your throat.

Red flags dances across the pitlane, and you ran out to watch other vehicles box as the medical car got deployed. She still hadn't got out of the vehicle and now Sebastian Vettel was approaching in his Aston Martin, waving his hand to her, she still didn't move and you heard the commentary pipe up, Paul De Rista's voice echoing around the garages.

"This isn't the first big accident we've seen Ryan Bradford in, and the question remains, are women suited for elite motorsport?" Which in itself caused you to stiffen up as rage filled your body, your hands beginning to shake as you heard the unfortunate laugh of Toto Wolff in the rear of the garage.

With your rage controlling you, you spun on your heels, storming toward him with an angry heart, "Why the fuck are you laughing?" you barked, the staff inside the garage turning to look at your outburst, "We've been ridiculed as fragile for centuries and you're laughing? Lella Lombardi was a phenomenal driver, Ryan Bradford is a phenomenal driver, your fucking Wife is a phenomenal driver." you approached his desk, slamming your hands on the shiny black surface, "So don't you dare laugh when all of the women here have had to prove themselves ten times harder than their male counterparts." you yelled, swiping your hands across his paperwork and scattering it everywhere.

"Calm down," The Wolff before you warned, his hands catching the floating paper from around him.

You bit your tongue as you wanted to yell at him, "I quit." you spoke, storming out of the garage as the sky cameras filmed your outburst.

-

After calming down slightly, and knowing Ryan was okay, you found yourself standing in the middle of the neighbouring garage, staring at Christian Horner himself, your folder of accomplishments in your hand, "I want a job, and I'm not taking no for an answer." you hand the dark blue folder across to him.

"Ok, I'll see what I can do for you," he replied, flicking through the profile, finding a performance review written by Toto Wolff, a recommendation for a promotion written by Peter Bonnington a few months back (before you'd been promoted).

Relief flooded you, "It's that easy?" you asked, smiling at the Brit stood before you.

"It's that easy." he confirmed, "I'll give you a call, but for now go see Ryan, she's asking after you." Christian Horner smiled softly at you.

-

You hadn't seen Toto since you quit, and you slightly regretted it, but something about this whole thing seemed delightful, a fresh start with no tangy rumours surrounding you. You certainly wouldn't have sex with Christian, you didn't find him attractive and he was just too short for your type.

Moving toward the health centre, you meandered past the multiple pit staff and journalists before colliding with the very man you had just had a go at. Toto Wolff.

His chest rose and fell angrily whilst his hands gripped your shoulders almost too tightly. You could smell the coffee on his breath, something he tended to not drink, and his eyes looked considerably darker as he stared down at you. He looked like a villain in a Star Wars movie, his hood up and his black mask hiding the lower portion of his face.

He said your name, his grip not softening as you remained before him, craning your neck to see his anger.

"If you don't let go of me in five seconds, I will file for assault... four, three, two..." you started counting down as his grip softened and he brushed the water off your shoulders, "Thank you, now I'm on my way to see my driver." you smiled dangerously, shoving past him with such force that he turned to watch you saunter off, swaying your hips the way he liked.

Wildlife had begun to reclaim the circuit, with floods peppered around the paddock and leaves clogging all the drainage systems. The wind itself was insatiable, bartering and clattering against everything in its path. The transporters swung in the gust, looking like dominoes about to topple over). Yet despite the chaos, there was tranquility.

You ducked into the serenity of the health centre, ignoring the sweet scent of petrichor in the air as the antiseptic sterilised your sense of smell.

"Fucking hell," Ryan yelled, standing up from her wheelchair and wobbling across to you, "I've been waiting bloody ages for you to come save me, Christian wouldn't let me out without you,"

You cracked your knuckles, "I take it you heard I'm working for him now?" you questioned, savouring the sweetness on your tongue as you thought of Toto. Mainly his hands gripping yours as you drove in your car, windows down and some music playing.

God you missed him. But you were also so angry at him after what happened earlier in the garage. And so here you were, working for Christian Horner and the enemy team.