Azerbaijan, Race Day

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"After making it into Q2 for the first time, can the new girl on the grid turn this into a potential podium finish?"

AZERBAIJAN
4TH RACE OF THE SEASON
APRIL


The sprint race didn't go as planned. I know I shouldn't be continuing to let this all weigh over my head, but I'm starting to get really fed up now. Azerbaijan should have been a slam dunk for me. I love this track, my aggressive style works in my favour, because I take the turns tightly, but not so tight that I'm slamming my brakes and screwing my tyres up.

P12 was not what I wanted. Lance fucking Stroll just couldn't stop being a pain in the arse. Even with the time penalty he got for weaving, I was out of the points.

I know my frustration is bubbling, and if it goes unchecked, I'll start to lose my focus on the track. I can't help it, though. It's starting to drive me mad that as I fix my personal life, my work life is going to shit.

Despite that awareness, I'm standing around the grid, near the wall, with an expression that makes the mechanics stop to ask me if I'm alright. I've had Oliver ask me if I need a moment to get something off my chest, and even Mick has shown concern. I don't want to let it out of my system. I want to let it out on the damn track. Driving whilst mad isn't always the smartest idea, but I'm fairly sure I might actually get some results this time. Driving calmly got me nothing. Driving with determination didn't work. Maybe, just maybe, a little rage will help.

"Who pissed in your cereal?" Lando shouts at me over the blasting music and mingling voices. He's trying to be funny, I think, but the way I feel my stare become a little colder makes the smile vanish from his face briefly.

"Otmar fucking did." Truthfully, Alpine's boss hasn't done much to affect my driving. He's still busy slinging mud with indirect accusations because everyone feels threatened by just how shockingly dominant Red Bull has been so far. All four races have ended with one of their drivers taking the win.

As Lando approaches me, we lower our voices. If we're caught talking shit about anyone here, we'll get into trouble for our conduct. He covers his mouth with his left hand as he leans in to make sure nobody can even try to lip-read.

"I heard he's panicking about his job."

Oh?

I raise my brows, mildly pleased by the thought of there being a story that might break there. Anything to get the goddamn drama to go away from my team.

"Who did you hear that from?" I make sure my mouth is covered as I lean in, practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him now.

"I heard from Oscar, who heard off someone else. He won't say who told him."

If it's coming from Oscar, there's a good chance it's truth, not rumour. And it would explain why he's trying to find an excuse for Alpine's poor performance... but I'm curious as to why he's gone for slinging mud at Red Bull.

And then it clicks. He's slinging mud at them, to also throw it at AlphaTauri and Jaguar. Because we all have the Honda RBPT engine. It's sneaky and clever. No wonder Henrik wants me and Mick to act like we don't want any part of whatever is coming out of the Alpine garage right now. It protects us.

"Any chance you can persuade him to tell you who told him?"

"Not a chance." Lando glances around before he keeps speaking. "Want me to find out anyway?"

"Duh. This is some serious drama, and it's about fucking Otmar! You know who would want to hear this more than me or Mick?"

He has no idea. His blank look becomes a dumbfounded expression as he mumbles driver names to himself.

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