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chapter sixteen
mainstream sellout
"What the fuck?"
"Please god no!"
A ripple of groans circled the room as I jumped to my feet, Fujio burying his head in his hands as Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes made contact with the barriers in Marina Bay. Tsuji made a sly fist pump in the corner. When I had clocked his Red Bull shirt at the beginning of the race, it had been so tempting to throw him out of the apartment.
I can't stand Red Bull Racing fans. I hated the way Red Bull did things, how none of their decision ever really ended up obeying the FIA's rules but nobody ever did anything about it.
"He's gone all season without a DNF, why now? Dear god, why now!" I whined. George Russell was running dead last. If they lost Lewis, they also lost their place in the constructors. It would be Mercedes AMG's worst weekend in a decade.
"He's backing out!" Fujio shouted, pointing at the screen. "Hamilton is back, he's not out of the race just yet!"
Singapore was the most stressful race of the season. We had already lost five of the twenty drivers within the first half of the race. Both Alpine drivers, both Williams driver and Alfa Romeo's Zhou Guanyu were already down for the count.
"Sit down!" Nakaoka whined. "You're blocking the TV!"
Nakaoka knew nothing about the sport, and I had already tried to explain the points system three times. Nobody was really getting it except those who already understood. But the Oya boys were good company, and it was better than watching the race on my own.
I looked around at the living room, taking in the surroundings. Fujio and Tsukasa were sitting with me on the couch, Nakaoka and Yasushi on the floor near the coffee table. In the third lap, they had fought over the bowl of popcorn and ended up spilling it all over the living room carpet. Tsuji sat on the other side of the couch, his beloved Max Verstappen having a weekend so bad that it made me cackle with laughter. Nakagoshi's eyes were glued to the screen. He;d been the quietest as he found himself drawn in by the adrenaline and the fast cars.
Actually, I think it was the crashes that first got his attention.
Pierre the cat was curled up in Tuskasa's lap. I wished that I could photograph this moment and hang on to it forever.
God, that sounded sad. But having friends was so new to me, that I wasn't even sure how I was supposed to react.
As the typically ill-timed commercial break began, showcasing Daniel Ricciardo enjoying Heineken's non-alcoholic beer substitute, I rose from the couch to head to the kitchen, offering to grab drinks for everybody. Wanting to see where I was going, Pierre sprung from Tsukasa's lap, plodding along after me as I crossed the hardwood floors. I'd only had the cat for a week, and the floors were already covered in fine cat hairs.
