Rise Up

Chapter 20: The Truth Hurts

"Why can't I eat a proper meal like a kebab? C'mon it's just meat and we're in Turkey!"

Mike sighed again at my silly question. "No still means no, Kiara. Tomorrow you have the race. If you finish in a good position, your price will be a kebab, with everything you want in it." He scoffed exhausted. 

"Promised?" I knew I was acting like a child right now but I was really craving for a real meal after all the salads and protein bars I was eating in order to loose a few pounds and be fit for keeping racing.

"Promised. Now let's finish the stretching. You seemed a bit tense up, do you need a massage?"

Also my trainer noticed how tensed and stressed I was. All the bad vibes of the last days were influencing also my body.  "No, never mind."

"Ok, so... Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, with a little grin on his face, as if he was trying to convince and spill the tea. 

I hated that he knows me so well sometimes. 

"Let's just say that I'm thinking too much and sleeping too less, in other words the usual. But I'm fine, really." I knew that my words wouldn't convince him but at least I tried. 

"Hmm, let's pretend I believe you. Please lie down, I'm gonna release a bit from your shoulders before they crack in small pieces."

I giggled at his response and did as he asked me. He was my trainer after all and I trusted him with all myself. If he suggests a massage, who am I to say no to his special hands?

Lied down on the little massage bed of my driver's room like a little sea lion, he started to move his warm hands on my shoulders, neck and back, releasing some knots that were hurting way too much during the training. 

"So... What has happened in your frenetic life lately?" He tried again to make me spill, failing miserably.

"No gossip for you today, Mikey. Sorry not sorry." I took joke of him and all I heard from a grunt as an answer. 

***

Next day I arrived at the track quite early because my lack of sleep was making me going crazy between the four walls of my suite- even if it wasn't small, it was still a room.

"Good morning guys! Today I brought this tasty and apparently typical Turkish pastries. I hope you'll like them." My tradition of bringing breakfast at work almost every day during race weekend, was really appreciated by the team- seeing them being happy and also able to take a short break to enjoy something hot to drink or a snack was filling my heart with joy. 

They thanked them and I talked a bit with some of the mechanics about the little changes of setup we accorded to get on the car.

After a few hours it was time to get the work started. Coming back on my driver's room, I changed quickly my clothes and ran back down to the garage, basically still zipping the suit, ready to feel again the adrenaline that my beautiful car was able to give me.

Once there Fred and some mechanics decided to explain me some datas about the aerodynamics as in my free time I'm a student at Mechanical and Aerodynamic Engineering in Florence. I still had to finish my third year and write the thesis to be called engineer but let's say that right now I had other plans, for example drive a car at 300 mph. 

"Ok, so we think that you should try to slow down a little bit more on this turn to not loose too much grip on the back tires. For the rest, everything seems good. Do you have any questions?" 

"No, not really Fred. It's alright." I said smiling while he patted gently my back, before pushing me back to the car. 

***

The race was quite good, even though I finished 11th due the suffer from a bad puncture I got on the first lap, after a small contact with one of the Williams.

After the usual and inevitable post-race interviews, I walked with Suz back to the hospitality, to finally get out of the sweaty suit and switch into something way more comfy. Again in my normal clothes, I collected all my things in the bag and started to go downstairs, stopping by in the cafeteria to thank and say goodbye to the last members still there to work. 

"Hey best friend. Just to let you know, I'll come to your room at 7, so we can go together to the restaurant. The others will be already there at the time." My teammate said, pulling his arm on my shoulders and pulling me in a short side hug. Saying that physical touch was his main way of communication was an understatement. In other words he was my antithesis but somehow we worked really good together, as if I was becoming a little more like him and vice-verse. 

"Perfect, thanks Pierre. See you later."

Pierre was literally an angel. Knowing that I had no plans for the night, he asked me to go with him and some other drivers out for dinner, to have a bit of fun before flying directly to the next race. Without him I would have spend the night in my hotel room, eating a kebab on the bed and watching some random tv series on Netflix, moreover alone as Suz and Mike were flying the exact night. 

I was about to reach the exit of the paddock when my bag fall on the ground. 

I had to collect a few things but crunching with my terrible knee was way too much painful. It took a bit of time but when I finally got everything back, I stood up normally again and saw that I had just stopped in front of the McLaren hospitality.

The scene in front of my eyes hurted even more than my knee.

Lando was outside of his hospitality and not alone or with manager or trainer, but with a girl, actually a beautiful girl who was standing beside him. He was keeping her close to his body, with his arms locked around her tiny waist and as if it wasn't enough, they were smiling and laughing like a perfect book couple. 

I think they were about to kiss in a bunch of seconds but I couldn't handle it, as I wasn't that masochist.  I had the rapid reflex of turning my head away and walk as fast as I could directly to the exit.

I smashed my car's door and felt instantly sorry for the beautiful Mercedes they rented me for the weekend. Without waiting a minute more, I drove back to the hotel, urging to be alone in my room to realize what I've just seen. 

As soon as I entered my room, I launched all my things on the floor and jumped on my back on the bed, facing the white ceilings upon my head. 

That would explain his being distant. And it would also put some more evidence on his being an asshole, I thought.

The first thing that came to my mind was texting my friends about it, to let a bit or madness fade away and maybe also to focus on something that wasn't crying on myself. 

I got up and grabbed my phone from the bag, quickly unlocking it and finding the group chat that I had previously pinned on the top of the screen, called "Stalkers are born". We decided this name as in high school we were able to find a guy of our school on Instagram in a bunch of minutes, without the need t know anything about him. It was scary and totally creepy from us, but it was a way to have fun we could say. 

Fortunately my friend were ready to answer me instantly. They started to tell me to let him go and focus just on myself and then they started also to insult him as a weird consoling way. Magda, who basically was an FBI agent undercover in my opinion, hearing my story, started a few searches on her socials and only after a short while found out the identity of the mysterious girl I had just seen clinging on the boy I was crying about. 

Her name was Elizabeth, Eliza for the friends, an Australian model, quite famous in her sector. Long blonde wavy hair, light brown eyes, almost hazel, and big lips. In the photos she posted on her Instagram she was absolutely stunning, in many popular brand clothes or bikinis, always smiling and posing like a professionist, something that I won't ever be able to. She seemed to be such a humble girl, with many hobbies as the passion for traveling of animals. In other words she was a cutie in everything she did. 

Scrolling through her public account on Instagram, my friends and I noticed how many places she has been lately, starting from the one in Croatia during the summer. 

It took me less than a minute to get it. After just a few swipes, it hit me like a train.

She was in Croatia with him.