solo / carlos sainz

ten

"So, Mara and Elsie...you never told me what they are short for."

One glass of wine. That's how long it took him to loop back to that question.

Recognising that my time to skirt around the answer is gone, I refill my glass and take a slow sip before answering. "Marbella and Lucía Christine."

Carlos lifts a brow at that, "Like the city?"

"Exactly like the city. My parents met there, while on holiday, so I was named after it. They did it with all my siblings, actually, naming us after important places in their lives."

"Hmm...and Lucía Christine? Was that also a location thing?"

"No," I sigh, sinking further into my corner of the couch as I reminisce on how I'd found my daughter's name. "That one's a bit more personal...and I would need to be much drunker to tell you that story."

"As for how Elsie came about, though, that's cut and dry. My family didn't love the name. They'd only refer to her as L.C., her initials. And...I guess it stuck."

"It's a very Spanish name."

My laughter isn't exactly quiet, but I also know how hard Elsie sleeps with her sound machine on, so I'm not too worried by my reaction. "Which is exactly why my family had issues with it. Personally, I find it hilarious. They'd name their daughter after a Spanish city but couldn't stand the idea of their granddaughter having a genuinely Spanish name."

"Caco?" A familiar voice calls from the hall, "¡Has dejado la puerta abierta, amigo!"

No. Fucking. Way.

"I'm over at Malik's!" Carlos, or Caco as he's apparently called, responds.

And I wish I could disappear. I wish I could wind back the clock and say no to meeting my neighbour and not invite his cousin in for a glass of wine because Carlos is now walking through my front door with his dog following behind and, "What the fuck?"

The feeling's mutual.

"Long time no see," I joke, wishing I had more wine because then at least I'd be able to drown myself. Maybe the bathtub...

I haven't known Carlos long enough to know he'd usually react to something like this. His cousin looks pretty excited, but, then again, I used to get a kick out of fucking with my family as well.

Right now, he's flip flopping between confused and pissed off. It's clear on his face, the thought process bouncing back and forth in his mind as he tries to figure out what to make of this.

"Well," Caco starts, smacking the top of his thighs before rising off the loveseat I'd shown him to earlier, "I'm going home."

"Vai a farti fottere, Caco." Carlos snaps as his cousin edges past him, "Is this some kind of joke? Because it's not funny." So, he's decided to be angry...great.

I shake my head, almost nervous to move from my spot on the couch. "No, no, I'm just as shocked as you are." He laughs, bitter and cruel, and I shrink away as he takes a step toward me. "Carlos, please, I had no idea."

Seeing me flinch, retreat further away when he'd come close, flips some kind of switch in him. Gone is any anger he had and in its place is a kind of worry I'd expect to come from him. "Lo siento, lo siento, Mara. I...I'm not mad at you. Caco, I told him about you and I know it's stupid but I saw you here with him and I thought he'd...found you or something. And brought you here to mess with me."

"Would he do something like that?"

Carlos shrugs, pacing side to side but not keeping the same amount of distance from me as he does so. "Sometimes, he thinks I move too slow. Which is hilarious, considering...well, you know."

"Considering what?"

He gives me a blank look, almost as if he's expecting me to laugh or give some kind of punchline. "Do you live here?" I nod. "So you've been holding those packages for me?" Another nod. "And you never looked up the name? You weren't curious?" I shake my head.

"Seems a bit invasive." I offer as an explanation, even more confused when Carlos outright laughs. "Alright, fine, I'll look you up right now."

Never one to back down from a challenge, I grab my phone and turn the television back on, projecting my screen up onto the massive display as Carlos comes around the back of the couch to watch.

He walks me through spelling his last name, though he's absolutely silent as the Google search pulls up a display with his name plastered on the top and a long list of 'race details'. I glance back to him after reading it, hitting the images button at the top to confirm what I'm seeing.

"You're a Formula One driver."

He nods. "You know Formula One? And didn't know me?"

The scoff I let out isn't entirely voluntary, though I suspect Carlos thinks it is. "My father is a fan of it, he goes every year when it comes to England."

"Silverstone."

I nod back, scrolling down until I can find an article talking about his most recent results in Monaco. "Second place...well done," I click the embedded video, watching a highlight of his race with a frown on my face. "So this was last weekend. And you've got another one next weekend?"

"In Baku, yes."

Having seen enough, I switch the television off and turn until I'm facing him. He's watching me rather intently, obviously very interested in what I've got to say. "You knew about the Puma campaign I ran because they're a sponsor of yours." A nod. "And you were in Portugal...for what, a holiday between races?"

"After Miami."

"Right." I reach for my phone again, this time opening up Instagram to look him up there. The amount of followers he has throws me through a loop, but other than that, it's a pretty standard internet presence for a professional athlete.

It's not like I haven't worked with athletes before, I have. Oceá's on call for a variety of different sports teams in the UK and throughout Europe, Olympic and otherwise, so none of this really...surprises me? 

What's confusing me is how Carlos has maintained such a lowkey life outside of it. He walked with me through Madrid today and was never mobbed or stopped for a photo, he was clearly able to vacation in Portugal without issue...unless...

"Who did you go to dinner with tonight?"

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair and rocking back on his feet for a second before settling down. "Some press officers from Ferrari. The ones you saw me with earlier today. It wasn't planned."

"Which means something happened today." My mind's going a mile a minute, rushing through a million different avenues of what could have transpired, though I have a sneaky suspicion of what it may be because of.

Before Carlos can stop me, though he doesn't look too intent on trying, I switch back to Safari and modify the search to include some key words. Ones I'm praying don't bring up... "Shit."

There's already a few articles circulating, with photos of Carlos walking hand in hand with Elsie from the school, walking beside me, ushering me into the ice cream shop after Elsie, her grabbing at the bag in his hands, and me walking away with a wave. At the top of the article, the headline's the final nail in the coffin.

'Formula One Driver Carlos Sainz, Jr. Spotted with Secret Daughter and Baby Mamma'