𝐒 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 [max verstappen x oc]

three

The days went by fast, and pretty soon it was Friday already. Wesley waited outside for her while she packed up. They decided it was casual so Lena didn't bother changing out of her jeans, but she did take extra time int he bathroom touching up her makeup. 

"Hey," she smiled as she pushed the front doors open. Wesley was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone with his training duffel on the floor by his feet. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Hey. You ready?" 

Lena nodded. "Sorry to make you wait. The photos wouldn't upload--I told Jaime that he needs to update the computer system."

"Can Jaime even spell computer?" Wesley laughed, opening the backseat door of his car to toss his duffel in. He gestured for her bag and Lena handed it to him, watching as he carefully placed it in. 

"Don't want to break all of  your expensive camera equipment." He mumbled, smiling sheepishly as he walked around to the drivers seat to get in. 

Lena blushed seeing him so careful but quickly fixed herself and got in the passenger seat. 

--------------

Two hours later and she was slightly tipsy on her third Rum and Coke. Wesley was nursing his fourth beer yet somehow less drunk. 

"So how come you're always around?" Wesley swallowed his beer and set the glass back down on the table. 

Lena tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Wesley gave her a knowing look. "I mean, you're literally always around. You never leave on vacation, you never have plans. Whenever Jaime calls you're always there. Why?"

"Are you calling me a loser?" Lena snorted. "I guess I just don't do much. I told you about my brother and everything but..." She trailed off. Maybe Wesley was right, why was she always around? 

"I didn't mean anything by that." Wesley raised his hands in caution. "I like that you're always here. Means I get to see you more."

And just like that Lena's distress disappeared. 

It only took a few seconds for it to appear again as her phone rang inside her purse. Lena huffed and pulled it out of her bag, glancing at the caller ID. 

Marcus Tupui. One of her racing clients. Why was he calling her at nine-o'clock at night?

"Shit." She whispered. 

"Everything okay?" Wesley turned her attention away from her phone. 

Lena thought fast. "Uh, yeah...work stuff. I need to take this, give me a sec?"

He nodded and sipped his beer cautiously while Lena hurried outside. 

She answered the call as the chill evening wind hit her neck. "What? I thought I told you--no calls after five."

"Please. Look, I fucked up. I fucked up big."

Marcus was a gambler who had serious addiction problems. He'd hired Lena back when he was barely living day-to-day, and she'd taken a chance on him. After a few jobs he'd backed off and made enough money to leave her alone for a while, but if he was calling her now something must be wrong. 

"Marcus." Lena sighed. "Whatever it is, call me tomorrow about it. I'm busy right now."

"No. Not tomorrow. I need the money tonight."

"What? No, Marcus, it's nine o'clock an-an-and I'm busy, and I'm on a date, and I am not doing this right now." Lena shook her head. 

"Len, please. If I don't have this money tonight...they're gonna kill me, Lena. Please, please, I need your help."