Free Practice | Formula One

Chapter Eleven: Cursed Me In Three Different Languages

Hello! I'm back!! We've got a long chapter that's heavy on race stuff. I wish I could cover more of the mechanical stuff, but I'm still learning on the specifics lol

Enjoy!

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Dom was waiting for me back at the motorhome after my time at the TV pen. I'm sure someone caught a video of what happened with Clarke and this was most likely circulating online. I ignored the uneasy looks of Hannah, biting my tongue at how she should be thankful the words I used were covered with respectful sarcasm and didn't contain any curse words even though I wanted to say them.

My manager was calmly sitting in front of one of the tables on the ground floor which held the dining area for the team. Across from him sat Jack, the head of Leone's media team, who appeared to be babbling off Dom's ear. The latter didn't look stressed at all and even winked at me when I walked through the doors.

"Afternoon." I politely greeted, pulling out a chair when Jack beckoned me to sit down. "Everything alright?"

"Actually—"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Dom grinned, cutting off Jack as he sat forward. "I was just telling Jack," I bit back a snicker because it was obvious Jack was the one doing all of the talking when I arrived. "how great it is to have a bit more competition on the grid for you. You know how things are. Things get a bit heated here and there, but all is well." When the head of the media team didn't express his agreement, Dom raised an eyebrow at him. "Right, Jack?"

His eyes widened and he fumbled under Dom's gaze before mumbling a yes. As the awkward silence descended upon us, Jack made a feeble excuse before leaving. I shook my head at Dom as he grinned, leaning my back against the chair and tapping my fingers on the table. Dom didn't speak, taking his time sipping his coffee until I found myself talking. "Any comments on that thing with Clarke?"

"If I were the one making the rules, he would've dropped five places. It's a good thing your reaction time is impeccable or else that might've ended badly."

"I'm talking about the TV pen." I said, watching Dom shrug his shoulders and finish the rest of his coffee.

"I'm surprised you didn't curse at him like a sailor."

"I do not curse like a sailor." I defended myself, smiling sheepishly when Dom raised an eyebrow at me. "At least not in public."

"You once cursed me in three different languages when I told you to stop wearing your New Balance shoes." He smirked and I glared at him, remembering that day clearly. It was when I signed with Leone to be their reserve driver and since the team has a partnership with Puma, I couldn't be seen wearing any of their competitor's shoes.

"I'm not even going to defend myself because I don't need to." Dom and I chatted for a bit about what was being said about me online regarding the Clarke thing. He said that it was mostly good and my Instagram following had gone up since the video was going viral all over social media.

When it was time for our debrief, I met up with Saint on the third floor where the meeting rooms were being held. Two rows of computers were facing each other with headphones hanging from the sides. We spent about two hours in that room, going over the data we collected from the free practice sessions and the qualifying session earlier. The strategy team already had a bunch of plans prepared for tomorrow and we narrowed them down to three, depending on which one would be suitable during the race itself. Saint's main objective was to hold off Levi during the corners where overtakes would be possible. It was amusing to see him bring out the tricks he knew Levi would most likely use, the years they've spent racing against one another giving him an advantage, although I'm sure Levi knew Saint's tricks as well. My goal was to put as much pressure on Atlas for the first half of the race. They've observed that he isn't doing that well in the last sector, so that was the most optimal place for me to pull a move on him.