Against You

Heist

Lando POV

Oscar arrives at my front door with a nervous smile and a bottle of Dr Pepper. I watch him through the spy-hole for a couple of moments, shuffling foot to foot. Why did I agree to this? My hands shake as I turn the key in the lock. I draw a deep breath.

The door creaks open.

"Hello."

"Hi."

I've let Oscar Piastri into my house.

I show him to the kitchen. Garlic bread is in the oven and I bought beer for the fridge, not being able to guess what he might want to drink. I don't like his choice of beverage but I grab two glasses and we sit in silence as I pour them both half full.

"So uh... Nice place you've got here," he says, pushing his phone back and forth across the table.

"Thanks," I murmur. I don't know what made me think a lads' get-together would be a good idea, but this is going worse than any party I've ever been dragged along to. My stomach rumbles but the timer on the oven still says twenty minutes.

"Want to order pizza?" I ask.

Oscar's face splits into a grin that takes me back in time. He pulls up an app on his phone and insists on paying which I don't complain about, but he also insists on adding pineapple to the order which makes me wretch.

"Maybe I'll add some anchovies too while I'm at it."

He laughs as I make fake vomit noises into the sink, but promises to order me something separate.

"I guess with your palette I'd better order you a margarita."

"No, put some chicken on it or something."

Oscar shakes his head. "I lived in Italy for almost three years when I raced at Prema, so this really hurts my heart."

"And pineapple doesn't?"

"That was a joke!" he laughs.

I splutter and roll my eyes as I take a slurp my overly-fizzy beverage. The pizza will take a while to arrive so I offer Oscar the tour of the house in the mean time, hoping to avoid more awkward silences. He marvels at my gaming set-up and complains when I won't let him have a go, and he inspects all of my helmets closely, trying to work out which one came from which race. I stand back and watch him. It feels right somehow. The grey walls feel warmer with another person inside them.

Half an hour later we're back at the table with burnt garlic bread and two pizzas. Oscar helps himself to a slice of mine, knowing full well I won't take any of his because it's covered in fish. I hog the entire garlic bread to myself which almost results in a food fight, and when we're too stuffed to move we go to the living room to rest on the sofa and finally get down to business.

"You really think we could sneak into the MTC?" Oscar asks, rubbing his food baby carefully through his shirt.

"I don't see why not. I've been there at night before, for parties and stuff, and our key cards still worked all night long."

"What if there are night watchmen?"

"Guards? What do you think they're going to do, call the police on us?"

Oscar chews his bottom lip. "I don't know, maybe British people are weird like that."

"You're forgetting the fact that we're both McLaren Formula One drivers. We can get out of any confrontations with a smile and a wave."

"I still think we need an alibi."

"I'll say you forgot your phone charger."

We set a loose plan and gather supplies like torches and a backpack, just in case we find tonnes of incriminating evidence and need a way to get it all out of the building. I have no idea what we're expecting to find, I just know that my heart is hammering out of my chest with the prospect of heisting the MTC.