Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Texas, Post-Race

"One millimetre was not a performance factor, whether we did what we did... um.. It wasn't like the floor bowing and giving us extra downforce or that. It was just terrible over the kerbs."

⸻

TEXAS
AFTER THE RACE
OCTOBER

I try not to wince at the things I'm reading. Lewis has come out fighting, fists flying at the FIA but without directly naming them or trying to suggest he was unfairly picked for inspection.

It's not great that two out of the four cars selected failed, but even I can't argue with the fact the officials saw something in the telemetry that suggested the Mercedes and Ferrari cars were bottoming out far more than they should be. And although Lewis might be right about there being no unfairly gained performance, a car hugging the floor does have an advantage. It doesn't matter how slight, or if it somehow doesn't have it at all. The rules are the rules.

But I know I would be arguing if it had been me disqualified after such a well-fought race. So I can't be too quick to judge him for it. I would absolutely be blowing my lid over it.

And when you add in that Lewis has clearly not been having fun with the car for some time now... Yeah. It's just shit for him.

I look up from my phone as Oliver joins me at the table. In the hotel lobby, we're having an impromptu team meeting before heading out to Mexico after a few words were exchanged behind closed doors and on TV.

"I don't like Andretti." Oliver says, clearly not waiting for Mick to get here. His brows are furrowed, eyes stern. He seems pretty pissed off, and I'm wondering what was said behind closed doors.

"Finally, you and James Vowles agree on something." I'm trying for a joke, because the dead look in Oliver's eyes is pretty scary. He looks as angry as he did when Haas accused us outright of cheating. No, scratch that, he has a look of fury like when Otmar said we broke the listed parts regs.

"They're trying to sweet talk us. Lots of compliments, lots of friendly gestures."

Oh boy. Now I get it. Andretti are trying sweetness and manners first. Because they think they can soften up the resistance to them. And if they started it with Oliver first, then they see us as the soft target.

Because we're the new team. If we fall down first, and agree they should be included, we might hold more weight with FOM... but we don't. Andretti doesn't know that, clearly.

I'm mulling over my thoughts as Mick arrives, dropping into a seat between Oliver and I. "I heard from Izzy. They sent you some birthday flowers?"

"It's not my birthday. That's in November."

We both snigger at Oliver for all of two seconds, because he's glaring as he clasps his hands together and rests his chin on them. He's not happy. Not at all.

"So, what do you want us to do?" Mick asks.

"The GPDA are still against this, yes?" Oliver fixed Mick with a firm stare.

"Absolutely." Mick nods, glancing at me for backup. "Until the teams are financially stable - and we're starting to see that the sport is becoming too reliant on Saudi investors which may mean its a long way away - we shouldn't have another team. There needs to be changes made to prize allocations and points allocations too... and honestly? The way Andretti talks about teams and even us as being greedy and like a cartel implies he's not here for the sport, he's here for the money."

"Don't forget how he decided it was the brightest idea ever to insult Hamilton and call him pretentious and all that." I find myself speaking without meaning to. But I know my unfiltered thoughts are safe to voice around these two. "Don't get me wrong, sometimes Hamilton really does come off a bit snobby, I think? I guess? Like, he does have a bit of an attitude, but insulting a literal living legend and then going cap in hand begging his boss to let you join the sport? Bit fuckin' stupid."

Mick nods in agreement with me. "It's more than stupid. He was specifically targeting a very valid movement in the world in the same breath."

"Well I could say what it really is, Mick, but we're in public." That gets a small chuckle from him. I'm sure we'd both like to say some choice words, even if we're biased because we see the threat this poses to our careers now.

"Hm..."

What the fuck does hm mean?

"I'll speak with Vowles and Wolff." Is all Oliver says as he changes his posture entirely, rises to his feet and leaves us sat here, sharing baffled looks.

It feels like this wasn't really a team meeting, just Oliver asking to bounce unspoken ideas off our empty heads. Because I have absolutely no idea what he's up to.

"Were we supposed to understand that?" Mick asks as he jabs his thumb in the direction of Oliver's retreating form.

I raise my eyebrows, shaking my head softly as I decide to shoot a message off to George. He might know something. "Not a fucking clue, Mick."

Jessie (side piece?) (Me);
Do you happen to have any inside info on
if Andretti spoke to Toto yet?

Georgie (boyfriend?);
Why?

Jessie (side piece?) (Me);
Oliver asked us what we (as in the GPDA)
think, Mick and I then said we think he's a
bit of a prick, and all we got was "hm" and
he said he's gonna talk to Toto.

Georgie (boyfriend?);
Interesting.

I stare blankly at my phone. What the fuck does George mean by that? Interesting? Interesting how? What does he know?

Georgie (boyfriend?);
Leave it with me.
I'll tell you what I know later.

Huffing, I shove my phone at Mick's hands. "George knows something, but he's not telling me."

"Why does everyone know something, and we don't?" Mick sighs as he reads the texts. I feel his minor frustration, taking my phone back and sending off another text to George.

Jessie (side piece?) (Me);
Tell me now???
What happened to "Lets be on the same
page"???

Georgie (boyfriend?);
Jess.
Trust me.
I'll tell you later.
Promise.

He better fucking do it.