barely legal | max verstappen ✓

chapter 16 | snap out of it

«I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby, snap out of it.»

---

Fuck. She tried to press the little button on the side, with more strength this time, in a poor attempt to verify once again. The frustration was taking over and it wasn't like urging the thing to power on would work because it didn't anyway, no matter how many times she'd tried. She faced the black screen and slid the device away with a brusque movement. It managed to reach the middle of the dining table.

Her phone was dead. Great. Vivianne would kill her, she had a whole day of work ahead in France and that thing didn't work. Awesome. Starting the day off on the wrong foot. Amazing.

Sloane inhaled and exhaled. Okay, she could use the phone in the flat to call Vivianne and let her know about it. At this point she had the woman's number engraved in her brain like it was her personal emergency number.

After corroborating that the landline was functional, she typed each number with careful attention to make sure she was getting it right. The tone began to ring, and she waited for her manager's sweet and stern voice to come from the other side while impatiently biting on her thumbnail.

"This is Vivianne speaking. Hello?"

Thank fuck. "Vivianne! It's Sloane."

There was a pause, and her manager was probably double-checking the number. "Sloane? This isn't your number. Where are you? Please don't tell me you aren't at your flat."

Ah yes, the familiar mix of exasperation and concern. She made a mental note to get Vivianne a day to relax at the spa for her birthday. And some lavender or something. That worked for relaxation apparently. Perhaps a wine bottle too, she needed it.

"I'm home, don't worry. My phone's dead so I had to use the landline here. I thought you'd noticed."

"Honestly I thought you were ignoring me to buy yourself some time. You always do that." Another time she'd have tried to deny those allegations, even though they were true, but it didn't seem to be relevant at the moment. "I'll try to get you a new one before picking you up for the shoot. Does that sound good?"

Her literal fairy godmother. She loved Vivianne. "Thank you, you're the best." And yet, she still managed to stress the poor woman out. "Just so you know, I have to make a quick run to Max's place before you get here. I think I left one of my cards at his place because I can't find it anywhere here, but I'll be back soon so we don't have any delays."

The last time they were out, he'd saved her ID from getting lost. He said she left everything everywhere, and he was indeed correct. His pockets always ended up with all her things. Lipgloss, ID, credit cards, lighter: her own personal purse. That one she'd tell him.

"No funny business, Sloane," Vivianne warned.

She scoffed. It wasn't like she was down for quickies all the time. "No funny business," Sloane confirmed with her most professional-sounding tone. "Just in and out, I promise not to be late."

"Good, I'll see you in a few then. It's quite the ride and a long shoot, so be ready. I'll make sure to get a phone for you." As she could hear, Vivianne was already moving around.

"What would I do without you, Vivianne?"

The woman snorted a little laugh. She didn't like to admit it, but certainly, Sloane made her days a bit fun sometimes. "We don't want to know. Do not be late."

They bid their farewells while Vivianne ushered her to get ready and have breakfast. Before doing so, she stubbornly tried to get her phone to work again, which surprise, it didn't and with a resigned huff, dragged herself to start being productive. Stop complaining, her mother would say.