Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Las Vegas, Race Day

"Welcome everybody, to the entertainment capital of the world!"

⸻

LAS VEGAS
21ST RACE OF THE SEASON
NOVEMBER

God, it's bloody cold.

I'm bundled up in the jacket again and I still feel like the air is somehow biting my skin. The track is alive with crews at the cars and fans in the stands, but we're in the garage. Because Cassandra needs to keep her head on straight. Tonight is the night. She's starting far back, on the last line of the grid, but that isn't important.

We just need to get her through this race.

"So, I did a little snooping on the feeds, all the onboards and stuff." I start saying as she stretches to warm up her cold limbs. "That chicane, you want to hook it on the second part, you see here—"

She pauses to look at my phone's screen, where I have a few screenshots of how other drivers have been taking it. "Uh-huh."

"Keep taking it like that, just gently hooking it. It should help the turn."

"Shame we can't do that at Monaco."

"God, don't even remind me. I fucking hate that chicane." And I think I always will. "But anyway: take it like you have been, just try to hook it every time. It's almost technical, you know?"

"Almost?" She scoffs, stretching her arms again. "And James is almost a race winner."

"Hey, give him a break, Haas are actually trying for once." Good god, I just defended a team I hate. Oh boy.

"Pfft. They're at acceptance on the stages of grief..." I glance at my phone, smiling instantly.

Vershtoppan (Max);
See you at the podium

Jahsica (Me);
If you can get past Charles

Vershtoppan (Max);
I can do that blindfolded

Eventually, Cassandra has to leave the safety of the garage; I head to the pit wall and find Oliver offering out a hat that I need him to pull on my head, under my headset, that he places back on my head afterwards. It's going to be a chilly night for us, sat here on the pit wall.

We wait patiently for Mick and Cassandra to get in their cars; Oliver has one of our strategists put their onboards right in the middle of the wall of screens. Below, I see Max's onboard and try not to laugh. Oliver realises I've seen it and nudges me, winking knowingly.

The strategies are quite varied here. Cassandra, and two others, are on softs, while the majority are on mediums, with only a few on hards. At the meeting before qualifying, Cassandra changed her mind and thought hards would be needed, but we need to give her a chance to get up the grid a bit. The downside of going for softs, though, is we need an early safety car, so that we can take full advantage of the gamble.

We wait for the formation lap to complete, watching as everyone pulls up to their grid spots. I turn and look behind me; Mum and Dad wave enthusiastically. They're happy to watch the race from the warmth of the garage. I wave back, but my attention is needed as Cassandra radios in to tell us she's not able to line up how she wanted.