Private life | Lando Norris

32 - Another Conversation

"So, you have to be at the track about 10ish." Ginny stated. I nod along, just listening to her rambling. "And then we will stay in the Ferrari garage and hospitality." I nod again. Her eyes snap from her phone to me. "Are you taking this down?" 

I roll my eyes. "I think I can remember this but thank you for thinking of me." She rolls her eyes back at me in retaliation. 

"You know I won't be there to tell you what to do, right?" her phone goes up to her ear. The hustle and bustle off the airport swirls around us. Ginny is currently waiting for her plane, ready to go off and met Charles for the Imola GP. She's never wanted me to see her off, but since I'm coming to the next sceptical of wealth that is Formula 1, she wanted to give me details last minute. Typical Ginny. She can never remember anything. And I mean anything. She once forgot her mother's birthday and then made it back by giving her paddock tickets. She has Charles so wrapped around her finger that whenever she wants tickets all she has to do is ask. 

"Yeah, yeah." I smile softly at her. "I have to go, I'm opening up the cafe." 

"Okay!" Her arms wrap around me and I hug her back. She's then a flurry of hair and bags, off to the private terminal, waving awkwardly behind her. I turn and get ready for the taxi ride back to my apartment. 

-

The sun is shining the bird are signing and Lando is coming to see me. Why? You may be curious or even confused. Same here. After the way he treated me and him being just genially horrid you would wonder if I'm okay in the brain. I'm wondering the same thing to be completely honest. 

But here we are. The door creaking slowly and the smell of pastry filling my nose. 

"Marge!" My voice rings out in the quiet cafe, the only sound a mixer in the back. 

"Yes!" Her french lilt calls back and smile. 

"I'm here!" I reply and clunk my bag and coat down on the counter. You don't need a coat on this glorious day but it looked suspiciously like it was going to rain when I peaked out the window this morning. 

"Okay, do your stuff!" Her voice carries through over the mixer. Her head pokes around the back door and I wave at her. "How are you?" Her question warms me. It's not every day you get Marge asking how you are. 

"So good so far." I say, all smiles. "You?" 

She shrugs. "Eh, comme ci comme ça." [so-so] she looks back to the kitchen then at me. "The mixer was being trés annoying." she sighs and I chuckle. 

"Sorry about that. I'll open quickly." I chuckle,  looking at the clock. Only five minutes till 9. I open up and everything goes smoothly, with customers slowly moving in after the doors opened.

"And that will be 3.50 please." I speak clearly and the older man smiles. It's about an hour since I opened with no Lando in sight. With the promise he made over text, I expected him to be almost first in the door, but that docent seem like him. He likes to take things a bit slower outside of F1, only having to go quickly when in a car. And he does go quickly. Very quickly. 

He won Miami by 15 seconds, Max only coming closer thanks to Lando's later pit stop. I don't want to say I watched the race but I did. Look, if I have to go to a race I might as well try to learn a few things about it, Right? 

The door bell signals and I turn. He walks in. I sigh. 

He's dressed almost completely differently to the last time I saw him, with no sweat in sight. Loose fitting black trousers, plain white shirt and black sunglasses. His cap is backwards.