Connected (F1 Story)

Chapter Sixteen: Hurt

Yawn...no, I must not yawn again. I had tried to perform the process half a dozen times secretly in the past half an hour and I was still at it. Still, this meeting was draggingggg oooonnnnn. At least I wasn't suffering from appendicitis like I was this time last year. And at least I hadn't passed out outside my office. The Grand Prix in Spa had been more successful not-getting-off-with-team-boss-wise too.

Mind you, if this sodding corporate manager continued to ramble on then I was at risk of passing out because of boredom. Please let me last another twenty minutes...

What was the time?

Eight o'clock.

Daniel would have finished in the simulator ages ago and he would be at the gym with a close friend now. It was 'punch day', apparently.

"For fuck's sake, woman, wake up." Bridget nudged me in the ribs and I sat up in my chair. Last night we had done an all-nighter as Emma had gone down with the flu. No, it was not ideal. And no, four cans of 'extra energy' Red Bull did not stop fatigue once you had been awake for, what, thirty-six hours now.

"Awake," I whispered, looking at the notes that I had (scribbled) written. My handwriting was completely unrecognisable. "Awake. Awake. Awake."

"Be quiet."

Noted, Bridget.

I had been listening to the guest speaker for the first half of his speech, but now our Comms Team had eaten all of the fruit pieces on the table, I really was not interested.

I picked another piece of shorter hair up and ripped out the split ends. Well, it was one way to pass the time. It was quite alarming how many of the damn things I had. Wow. There were at least three splits in one single strand of hair. Was that a new World Record?

Perhaps the most worrying thing was that I'd had it cut into a bob the day before last. Why were there still split ends in my hair?

"Leave your new hair alone." Bridget gave my ankle a kick and I began to cry on the inside. How comes Lizzie got away with this...oh wait, her and Paul were having a romantic week in Italy.

My stomach rumbled. I thought of Italy and my stomach immediately presumed that food of some sort was involved.

Stop thinking of the the thick, creamy pasta, Saskia.

"Sorry, did you say something?" The speaker looked at me. Everyone then looked at me. "Did you have something you wanted to share?"

Merde. I had just said my previous thought aloud. Josh was doing an absolutely terrible job of keeping a semi-straight face.

"I know I should wait until the end to ask, but in terms of the global market..." Yup, keep thinking on your feet, "how can we be sure that this method will be perceived well among all of our sponsors?"

Said speaker looked confused. Said person who was making a twat of themselves felt very sick.

"No, Saskia is right. How can we be sure?" Bridget asked. Turns out I had been half listening. Ish.

"Well, if you look at the recent survey feedback then our market research proves that..." And then I zoned out again.

Maybe I could subtly start planning for tomorrow so I didn't have to come in early. I had a girl coming in for work experience who I'd met at the Open House event back in June. I was excited to work with her, but not when I hadn't slept in what felt like days.

I wanted my bed. Preferably with Daniel in it. I mean, I wasn't asking for too much, was I?

"Stop long blinking." Another kick from Bridget. "Just because you made a good point, it doesn't mean you can go for a nap now. I need you to be all ears." Said the person who went home at 5 p.m. every night without fail.