GREENE | CS55

07 - On My Mind

2019 | ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX
⋟⋟ A MONTH LATER

There are certain moments in a woman's life that make time feel as though it is standing still. That make their hearts beat in their chest with such a ferocity that they think it might be time to call for help, but their throats are clogged up with a muscular tightness that make doing so impossible.

A true moment of selfishness, where the body only tunes in to what it needs in that instance. Times that made it seem like the only thing they could do, what their body needed to do, was run and hide. Evade the whole world for the rest of the day. The rest of the month. The rest of eternity.

"It's just straight up embarrassing, Holden. Let's get the fuck out of here."

When Pierce Greene— sweaty and panting, not only from today but from a second season of fighting against her car to no avail— saw her name on the world championship standing board in nineteenth, she found herself having one of those moments.

The whole world shifted around her. The images of people cheering and sporting excited looks at the celebratory air of the evening blurred in her peripherals, but she stood still. Beyond Lewis Hamilton winning the world championship title and Toto Wolff's face beaming up with pride as he roared in celebration with his team for what felt like the millionth year in a row, all she could see up on that screen was her name.

All the way down in nineteenth.

Even though Pierce Greene was never one to care about other people's opinions, she suddenly grew self conscious of what placing in nineteenth meant she'd have to continue to deal with. The people that saw that result to no surprise, only citing it as proof. Proof that Pierce shouldn't be where she was. That she shouldn't have another year in the Haas. Honestly, Pierce was starting to agree. Nobody should be in this car. This team as a whole was a pointless mockery of the sport she thought she was so excited to one day be a part of.

"At least you're not dead last!" Holden pointed out, slightly nervous. The two had begun their stride back to the motorhome with their heads hung low. "You beat Russell."

"Vanilla latte boy in his Williams?" Pierce rose her brow, dumbfounded at Holden's words. At his attempt at trying to turn this whole thing into something positive. Trying to spin the moment to be something it wasn't. Holden simply shrugged back, raising his upper lip. Pierce scowled. "You don't have to try and sugarcoat it, Holden. Nineteenth sucks ass, no matter how you try to spin it."

Despite what happened in Austin and Jim threatening that it was the official last straw, Pierce still had the Haas for at least one more year.

Her name was splayed all across Formula One gossip sites and even some official news sources. Images of her laughing, living her best life out on the town with her girls. Seemingly alright after spinning her car into Carlos Sainz, as her outfit left little to the imagination in terms of the presence (or, lack thereof) physical bumps and bruises.

For two weeks, Pierce Greene was the devil. The spawn of Satan herself. A heated debate was sparked on the topic of her seat at Haas, a conversation that slightly struck Pierce. Even though she knew what she was setting up for herself, it never got easier seeing people assume the worst of you. Pierce had learned to numb the feeling. That was the only way. To turn a blind eye to it and pretend they weren't talking about you.

Holden relayed the message to Pierce to lay low, keep out of sight. Go to your Pilates classes and show the world you're not as bad as they're making you out to be.

He didn't have to tell her twice. Pierce was happy to sit in her Manhattan apartment alone, keeping her lips shut tight. The distance between her home and Sydney's L.A. mansion made it easy for the driver to stay away from trouble. Meanwhile Tatianna Scott hovered close and did little to steer Pierce into trouble, other than annoy her with her presence when Pierce would really rather spend her time in silence.