Running From The Flames

Podium

Seeing Pierre on that podium would forever be etched in my brain. Lewis of course was happy he won and sprayed his champagne over the crowd but Pierre's smile was something I will always remember. Monaco was the race that made careers and he came second, it was unbelievable.

No one even noticed Max slip off the stage area, his magnum bottle still full as he carried it away with his trophy in limp hands at his side. I felt sorry for him. Most people saw him as a sore loser, and maybe that was a part of it, but I knew his father and the pressure that he put on his son to win. Anything other than first place was a disappointment to Jos and he didn't keep those opinions to himself.

Pulling out my phone I messaged Kelly.

Me: How's Max doing?

Kelly: You know how it is 🙁 Jos is on the warpath with FIA trying to overturn the penalty.

Me: He saw the footage right? It sucks but a 5 sec penalty is better than staying on the track and getting a DNF because he crashed into Lando.

Kelly: Logic and pride do not go hand in hand. Max has just got back to the motorhome, looks like we are leaving tonight. Catch up again soon babe xx

Turning my focus back to Pierre I smiled once more as he shook his bottle and sprayed it over Lewis and then the crowd, just a few splatters reaching me where I hung at the back as far from the media pit as possible. Even with the distance between us Pierre found me and held his trophy high before blowing me a kiss.

Today definitely confirmed the rumours, even if we hadn't put a title on this. One thing was for certain, friends no longer covered it.

It took a while but the celebration started to break off into groups and Pierre carried his trophy with pride as he returned to the Alpine team after a few final interviews. I saw the glint in his eye just before he reached me and suddenly my feet were off the ground as he swung us around.

"Monaco, baby, we did it," he said as he buried his face in my hair and twirled us around again.

"You're getting me wet!" I gasped as my dress soaked up the champagne that he was drowning in.

"A nadie le importa," Esteban muttered as he walked past, his shoulder grazing Pierre and making him stumble. (Español: Nobody cares.)

"What the fuck?" Pierre growled under his breath and placed me back on my feet to face his teammate who was walking away.

"¿Te he ofendido?" I asked, enjoying his misstep when he turned back wide eyed. "Yeah, I know what you said. Discúlpate. Ahora." (Español: Have I offended you? Apologise. Now.)

"Sorry," Esteban obeyed without any sincerity before stalking off ahead of everyone else.

"Didn't you two used to be friends?" I asked as we watched him leave.

Pierre shrugged noncommittally as he answered, "yeah, until I started winning."

That explained the renewed animosity considering he placed 7th, but he should have still been proud to get points for the team. I shook my head at the childish behaviour and found my hair was clinging to me, the smell of alcohol strong on my clothes.

"I smell like I went swimming in a vat of vino," I complained and tried to wring some of the liquid from my dress. "I'm going to shoot back to the hotel and change while you get cleaned up."

"I don't want to go," Addie grovelled.

"Well we have to," I said, leaving no room for arguing.

"Sorry, princesse, that was my fault," Pierre said softly, brushing her hair back from her face to see her pout. "But you'll see us soon for the after party, right?"