Sunday, September 2nd, 2018- Monza, Italy
Italian Grand Prix, the Autodromo Nazionale di Monza
The first two times that your phone had rung, Daniel's name and contact photo lighting up your screen, you'd taken one glance at the picture you'd chosen well over two years ago, of him, Max and yourself standing together, arms slung around each other's shoulders, massive smiles across all three of your faces, grinning and blissfully unaware of what was to come, and had hit decline just to make the image go away.
But, the third time the shrill notes of your ringtone began to play, you'd had enough and answered the phone without thinking to check who had called, the assumption that it was Daniel already foolishly having been made.
"Can I fucking help you, Daniel? Someone better be dead because if I have to go deal with Max right now, if I have to look at his stupid, smug, little bitch face, then today is going to be the day he dies."
"Well, I'm not sure what I was expecting but I think it's safe to say it wasn't that," Horner says slowly, like he's still trying to decide whether he should give you a talking to for that speech or not and was struggling to ascertain if he was allowed to find what you'd said funny or if he was obligated as your boss to not let on if he thought it had been humorous.
"You know what, sir, as team principal you're probably duty bound to write me up for that, but I think that regardless of that, as someone who knows Max as well as we do, and for as long as we have, you can't tell me you don't know exactly where I'm coming from."
Despite the fact that you don't have a single clue where this vein of bravery is flowing from, which perhaps might be in part thanks to the fact that's because it's not actually bravery, it's merely stupidity and hubris lumped in together, you elect to just give in and go with it, paying absolutely no mind whatsoever to what the proper name for this sudden influx of emotion might be.
"I-" Christian hesitates, clearly unprepared for the angle you'd elected to take.
"He can be a proper fucking dickhead sometimes, especially when he gets into one of his little moods," you're just talking now, hoping that you'll either talk your way out of this or, at the very least, you'll eliminate some of the back and forth prior to being terminated from your job, "honestly, between you and me, it'll be a miracle if Max and I both make it out of this little arrangement you cooked up but hey, I'm more interested in sticking around in the hopes that I'll get an opportunity to take a swing at Jos."
"Look, in the interest of plausible deniability and all that, I never said this and if anyone ever asks me about it, I will throw you under the bus," you laugh at the British Team Principal's words, "but fuck, am I disappointed I didn't get to hit Jos yesterday. I had the opportunity and I hesitated, so I can only hope I get another shot one day."
"I imagine the man will live out the remainder of his life doing nothing but further our justifications for jumping him," you say honestly.
"I think you're right about that," Horner snorts out, which to your best recollection is the absolute closest thing to a laugh that you've ever gotten out of the man, so you're already convinced this has somehow managed to work out in your favor, "but the reason I called..."
"Is everyone alright?"
"Well, yes, at the moment but if your current state of mind is anything to go by, that answer has a very high likelihood of changing shortly."
"And that means... what exactly?"
"I think it's just better if you see it for yourself."
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