Different Lanes

10

"Lannnndoooooo" the drunken slur in Max's voice was becoming more and more prevalent as the night progressed. "Lets dance" he wave his arms around and tried to move his hips, an action which Lando wished he could strike from his memory. Actually he kind of wished he could strike this whole weekend from his memory.

To say it had been a shit show for him was an understatement. He'd let yet another race slip by and the press had eaten it up. It was clear that the McLaren was the fastest car on the grid yet he had only scrapped together a P5. Losing to Max was one thing, but to lose to the two Ferraris and Mercades was another. The press was going to have a field day.

"Hey mate", he replied to Max, "I'm not really feeling up to it yet. You go first with Danny and I'll join you after this", he pointed to a full drink he'd barely touched in the last hour. He thought that coming out with the rest of the crew would have helped him let it all go, but once they'd stepped into the loud club, decked out with Redbull merchandise and signs of Max everywhere, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Max was a ferocious driver, ruthless and always down to do anything to win, but once Lando had moved to Monaco he was introduced to another side of Max. A softer, funnier and more caring side that he'd often heard Daniel talk fondly about. They'd slowly become friends, first through padel and then through partying. If there was one thing besides racing that Max loved, it was partying. They'd once worked their way through the whole of Ibiza during the summer break, nights in the club and days on Max's private yacht laying in the sun.

Lando was distracted by yet another notification from his phone, some model had tagged a photo with him from the race. He kept scrolling through the rest of his feed until he saw a post from F1 media.

"I am no man – Charlie King's spectacular debut sends ripples through the racing community"

Above was a photo of Charlie getting out of her car, the distinct white helmet with the now viral phrase written on.

Lando clicked on the link and continued to read;

"Just two days ago, Charlie King was getting ready to enjoy the race weekend from her regular spot in the garage, now she's the first female ever to finish on the podium of an F1 race. She may call it beginners luck, but there was nothing beginner about the way that she had handled the last two days, both on and off the track. "

Lando starred at the image of her on the podium with the third place trophy hoisted slightly above her head. She was smiling with her mouth, but the joy hadn't radiated to her eyes. He read on.

"Sporting a custom helmet, from the 7 time WDC Lewis Hamiliton, King took to the track with the attitude of someone who had always been there. Working to perfection with Lewis's race engineer, Peter Bonnington, they executed the perfect undercut with their final pit stop catapulting King from P7 to P2 in the final stint of the race, being passed by her team mate George Russell to finish in P3.

Yet despite such a spectacular debut, there is no confirmation that King will return to the grid anytime soon. Currently in contract with Mercades as an engineer and test driver, she will need to either hope that Mercades offers her a new deal to race full time or allows her to break her contract and perhaps go with another team if they're willing to take a chance on her".

What are you doing Lando?" Carlos sat down next to him, clearly exhausted from the dance floor. "Not moping up here all by yourself I hope?"

"Even if I wanted to I can't, you're here" he teased.

"Come on, come dance with us" Carlos pulled at Lando's arm.

"I'm okay. Really. Just happy to chill up here"