the pursuit

40 - Cracks

After taking a photo and being handed the pole trophy, the cameras red blinking stopped and were off. 

There was no one there to tell me what to do or where to go. Charles ended up being taken away by his own team, the same with Checo. So I was left to find my own way.

The paddock was a frenzy with people running around, cars were being moved and journalists were interviewing anyone they approached.

I made swift work of picking up my helmet and escaping the immediate area. 

I had no clue if I had more media duties to be done, especially after entering the spotlight for qualifying. But no one made a move to talk to me, so I went to my last resort, the Mercedes garage. 

It wasn't much better than talking to reporters, but it was better. The confinement of my drivers room was my final destination. 

I made my way through the crowds, only partially undetected. I waved at people who said hi but walked as quickly as I could. 

I made my way down the pit lane until I was at the open doors to my teams designated area. 

Now my heart was starting to beat faster again, that nervous feeling was coming back. 

All I wanted to do was scream, even if the radios were down they could have still walked the mere block to see me arrive. 

I balled my hands into fists, the tan skin turning to white with the squeeze.

My body was on fire.

I stormed into the garage. All positive feelings of my pole position had seeped out of me. All I could feel now was undiluted rage, an anger that threatened to kick me off the team. But now I had stop caring all together.

I found Toto mother fucking Wolff chatting in his usual area, having a laugh with some of the strategy team. 

This time I was the one to point the finger in his face. 

"Where. were. you." I said sternly, I put away my hands and strangled my helmet. I made eye contact with his whole group. "Where were all of you?"

The garage went silent, mouths were closed into grim lines and worried looks were painted on faces. 

No one seemed to know what to say, so I said it for them.

"I'm in the car for all of Q3 and I only hear one single sentence at the beginning and then silence. I called into the channel a dozen times but no one answered. And let me tell you all, I don't think it was down. There was nothing wrong with that damn car, I just fucking proved it." I paused and looked around. "You can't take one minute of your day to even notice that I just got pole. You can't even acknowledge my presence here anyway. If you want to keep acting like this that's fine, but at least tell me I'm in first when I pull into the pit lane so I don't look like an imbecile not parking in my deserved place. I had to ask another driver if I was really on pole. Even with no radio, that should have been my team. But no. None of you were there. None of you even care. So why am I here?"

I lifted my hands up in the air in emphasis.

I started to speak again, "If you don't want me, just shove me in the fucking Williams at this point. But I can, and I will deliver this team podiums and points every time I get in that car, because that is my job. I just pray that one day you will do yours. If you want to throw me away and waste a good driver then I don't care how you end up doing. Lewis can't be the only one contributing. I'm not going to sink to my knees to beg, I'm beyond that, but maybe one day you will."

Toto started to speak but I cut him off.

"I'm leaving for the night, if you want me gone just tell the press I've been fired and I'll know then. But now I'm going to do my interviews. I'll see you guys tomorrow for the race."