My time | OP

2.

Present Day: Briar's POV

"Briar, wake your arse up. today is the day you stop sulking and you come with me to enjoy yourself." Were the words that exited the mouth of my little blonde friend Valeria.

I had met Valeria while I was still driving in F2. She was cousins with Robert and the same age as me. When I kept seeing her at my races we got to talking, and 2 years down the line, we live in a small apartment together in the middle of God-knows-where. Valeria was there for me when my father took away my racing career and took me in when my life went downhill and I always say to her 'there is now way I can repay you for all that you have done to help me,' but today she had a different response to usual.

"Today is the day you repay me for all the hours of your sulking and mental torture." Exclaimed Valeria in a high pitch tone that would do a better job in waking me up than the alarm clock next to my bed.

"What are you talking about V? What are you planning" I questioned still trying to emerge from the dream I was previously in seconds before.

"You're coming to the race with me this weekend and there's no debate about it."

"Absolutely not Valeria, I am not stepping foot back in a paddock, you know I would hate every moment of it." I raised my voice this time.

"I don't care, get dressed and pack a suitcase, we're going to Bahrain."

________________________________________________________________________________

That evening, Valeria and I emerged from the plane, my desperation to return home evident. The warm air hit my face, reminding me of all the times here racing that I would rather forget. I'm still unaware of what chaos my friend is planning in that disturbed brain of hers. We made our way to the conveyor belt of revolving luggage, hauling ours off as it passed. As we exited the airport into the humidity of the city of Bahrain. We were picked up by a fairly questionable taxi that took us to our hotel. 

The whole taxi ride to the Hilton hotel in the city centre, my brain was wracking itself for answers as to why she had brought be here and why now. I dreaded ever stepping back foot into the paddock, mostly fearing the reaction of my father if he found out I was back near an F1 car. The whole ride I questioned in silence all of these scenarios, not speaking a word, as to not alert Valeria to my clear alarm and anxiety over the next few days.

Around 20 painstaking minutes later, we pulled up at our hotel. The glistening lights of the chandeliers hanging above my head provided a sense of unease, something like I didn't belong here, in this level of luxury. I observed my surroundings, the accents of gold and silver shining in the light. I was never used to this kind of luxury, this was the kind of thing reserved for F1 teams and their precious drivers. Everything around resembled that of the benefits of racing, the fancy hotels, the amazing atmosphere and the fame that came along with it. As V sorted out our room, I took the liberty of wandering my surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet, everything seemed as it should until I started seeing the papaya orange that was so recognisable. On further inspection, all I can find is the clear-as-day Mclaren logo plastered on everyone's clothing. What is going on? Why am I here?

"Right V, what is going on? What is the plan? You've dragged me here so at least tell me what scheme you have to get me back into the paddock?" I ask, unlocking the entrance to our room, only a few feet from the marble elevator.

"Right promise you won't get angry." She stated, sitting me down on a bed and placing our belongings on the floor.

"Depends what you're about to tell me."

"I sent your CV and credentials to Zak Brown."

"The Mclaren boss, are you fucking kidding me?!"

"I've seen how upset you've been since leaving racing, and let's be honest that's the only talent you've really got. Sooo... I sent Zak and email applying for a job on your behalf. He invited us this weekend to interview you for the job as a driver's personal manager." I tried not to take offence to her comment about my apparent lack of anything-other-than-racing talent.

"So let me get this straight. You went behind my back to sign me up for a job in an industry I have absolutely no business being in?" I near exclaimed. 

Since leaving racing a couple of years ago, I completely cut myself off from everything motorsport related, I couldn't even bare to watch race without crying and to be faced with the idea that I would be walking back into a paddock and remaining there was almost too daunting for my body to process. I had absolutely no clue about anything that went on in Formula 1 anymore, not even a clue who the drivers were anymore. My eyes try to examine every inch of the boxed off room, attempting to pretend like this wasn't happening, until I look at my friend in front of me, not quite sure what to say. I know she meant well, but how was I going to manage? I hadn't even thought about my father's reaction to this just yet. 

"Bri... you've been miserable. I just want to see you happy as I know you can be. And I've only ever seen you happy when you've been surrounded by the chaos of racing. Go to the interview, you don't have to take the job but please, consider it. I just want to see you happy again." She said softly

As much as I hated to say it, she was right. All of this time, I had been miserable about not racing. I could say as much as I want that I didn't want to go back, but I longed to return to the paddock and be surrounding my the muffled radio sounds of engineers, shouting PR managers, overly enthusiastic presenters and excited drivers. Valeria was right, I didn't really have any other than talents other than racing. I always did have a passion for training and technique when I drove but I also had a way with words, being confident in interviews and I was always where I was meant to be. I was a star pupil when it came to being a driver. I had to at least consider it didn't I?

"So, hypothetically, if I were to go to this interview with Zak, and hypothetically I got the job? What would my role as 'personal manager be'?" I asked trying not to look her directly in the eye as to excite her too much, but I couldn't help myself. 

I saw the edges of her face prickle upwards into a Chesire cat sort of grin, the blonde strands of her hair bouncing as she did a little excited dance. I think the excitement might have got to V ever so slightly because she launched herself into my arms, giving me a hug tight enough that she would give a snake a run for their money.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You don't understand how excited I am to see you back in a paddock. Aaaah, this is the best day ever!"

"Woah, easy tiger. You still havent answered my question." I cut her off, sitting her on the bed next to me, to try and contain some of her glee.

"Right, of course. You would basically be like a other to one of the drivers. Sorting out their training schedule, making sure they get to places on time, prepping them for interviews, organising their PR stuff. By the sounds of things, the Mclaren drivers are a bit too excitable, can't sort themselves out." She said between breathes taking a large one before her next sentence.

"Briar," She said more softly this time, "this is something you'd be amazing at, please make sure you think about it."

"Fine, I'll go to the interview, but as long as you come with me."

The excitable Valeria was back and there was no containing her this time.

"Come on lets go celebrate!" She yelled, ushering me out of the door.

Well, here goes nothing.