Chapter Text
My job is not boring.
It is simply not what I wanted it to be. I woke up this morning in a country that seems to be the same as mine, and yet I don't feel home at all. Laura, my coworker, called in sick. She spent the night in some club and called me at 4 am asking if I didn't mind, I said I didn't. And I don't. Patrick, our boss, lets us do the boring part of our job whenever we would cover an event that he didn't care about. He loves football, handball, hockey, but apparently, not formula 1.
The good part of this is that I woke up in a nice hotel, with breakfast included. So I took my shower, a light free breakfast and chose an outfit that would allow me to bear the heavily warm weather of Monaco. I packed everything I needed and called my colleagues to make sure they were awake. Most of them were hungover and trying to hide it through the phone, as if I cared. The lobby boy helped me carry the numerous luggages in a taxi that would drive me to the place we rented. I still had my caffein eyepatches on, along with my sunglasses, which made me look careless when in fact, I felt very glamourous. I felt like I was the star of the show, going up to an interview about my upcoming projects.
The empty studio was a beautiful place, full of natural light which would make everything easier. Tired and lazy, I slowly started to install everything, knowing that the lights and camera people had the most important items to set up anyway. I set the chairs up, re-read my questions, take off my eyepatches and start revising. Williams, Mclaren, Alpine... Are these even car brands ? All I know is Mercedes and Ferrari. I did hear about Pierre Gasly and Charles Leclerc, but the rest are strangers to me.
By the time my colleagues arrived, I had already memorized everyone's names and car brands they were working for. I greet my colleagues, relieved that they were here on time. I know it will be a long day, but if the crew starts showing up late, it's basically chaos. Leo, from the hair and makeup team comes to say hello.
-Where's Laura ?
-Not coming today, i answered.
-Not even this afternoon ?
-Nope. Just me.
-Well, you better run this place like a dictator...
I chuckle as he looks at me with compassion.
-Care to tell me why you're not bare faced ?
-What do you mean? I always wear makeup.
-But since Laura isn't there..
I look at him in total confusion.
-Patrick said he would like it if the journalist could be seen in the interview today, so...
-What ? No, fuck me. I always put Laura through this shit. There's no way I'll handle everyone and myself on camera.
He smiles and pats my shoulder gently, halfly mocking me.
-I'm serious, Leo. Fuck Patrick, he should've told me. I'm not doing it. This day is stressful enough.
-Okay, well, let me at least retouch your makeup a little bit, just in case.
I sigh and look at my watch.
-Be quick. They arrive in 30 minutes.
I'm frowning, grunting, this news put me in a bad mood. I don't mind being seen during interviews, simply I like to know beforehand, so I can prepare mentally. Being on camera also adds another layer of stress because I can't be seen in a bad posture, or going through my pages. It must feel like an actual conversation, and the more chemistry I have with the guests, the better. But how can I set up chemistry with a group of 20 men expecting me to talk about car races ? Despite what I said to Leo, I'll do whatever Patrick says, as always. It's not like it's the first time he's put me in a stupid situation. I keep rambling about Score being a terrible company, repeating that I'm not paid enough to have that much responsibilities, that other companies have several people do different tasks until I feel like Leo has been working on my face for a little too long.
I look at my watch : 9:35. They're late. I roll my eyes.
-Okay guys, is everything set up ? They should be arriving soon and we can't lose time ! Remember we're paying them a shit ton of money, so no fooling around, time is precious. Be ready !
Everyone shouts more or less enthousiastic "yes", which makes me chuckle. I spend the remaining minutes making sure they're actually ready (and they never are).
The teams all arrive at the same time. As I understand, they drove each other here which seems odd to me, but well, they're drivers, i guess. When I arrived this morning, I thought the studio was big. But with 15 people running around, and now 20 men now standing there, this seems like the smallest room in the world, and I already feel overwhelmed. Everyone greets them as they're standing in the entry, waiting for instructions. I walk to this big group, feeling almost intimidated as they're all staring at me. This feels like an oral exam to pass in front of a bunch of brain-rotted teenage boys.
-Hi guys, I'm Y/n, nice to meet you ! I'll be both the coordinator and the interviewer today. We'll do each team per alphabetical order, so when one is getting interviewed, the other goes to hair and makeup. On your right is the lounge area where you can rest when you're still waiting. If you have any questions, you can ask me.
They all nod nicely as the Alpine team goes to greet Leo and the rest of the team. I go sit in my chair, revising my notes again. Gasly, Colapinto, France and Argentina... I look at the other teams all chatting in the lounge area, making a bunch of noise. I try to match each faces to the pictures I have in my notes. One of them must have seen me analyse their faces as he's cleary staring at me with an amused face. I politely smile at him before returning back to my notes to pretend i'm busy. I look at every small picture. Kimi Antonelli, Mercedes, Italian. I think that should be him. I look back up at him to check, and he's still looking at me. Yeah, that's the one. Apparently the picture forgot to catch how pretty his face was. I give him a playful smile before walking up to the makeup team, to try to chat with the first team before we start.
The Alpine team is quite easy-going, which reassures me for the interview. I learned that Pierre and I are from the same hometown, and I got to speak my mother tongue with him. I couldn't tell why, but that simple interaction erased any discomfort and apprehension. I felt glad he was the first person I talked to. The interview with them went quite smoothly, I found them both to be polite and professionnal, even a bit uptight.
I hope some of them will be more... funny? I absolutely need to capture their personnalities to get a viral moment. That's the only way to get a raise.
Right before the Ferrari team interview starts, I get informed that our main microphone is basically dead. The mic team looks at me as if they'd just accidently spilled boiling water on my feet. I close my eyes and breathe. Thank god I'm here. It's not a joy to admit it, but I'm great at my job.
-No need to freak out. I anticipated. There is a spare one at the Score room. But you should have thought about it, not me. So I'm not going back in the heat outside to grab it.
They nod and give me a million apologies before deciding between themselves who will have to drive to the hotel. Everytime we go abroad, we need to book an extra hotel room to store all the items we need, and call it the "Score room". As you can imagine, all the cameras, microphones, lights... That takes a lot of space.
I'm actually almost relieved that they have to go grab the microphone, it gives me at least a half-hour of break.
I go to the small fridge right next to the lounge area to grab some water, and hear someone call my name.
I turn to one of the couches only to find two of the drivers looking at me, and one of them smiling happily.
-Yes ? Do you need anything?
The one who said my name chuckles.
-I knew you didn't recognize me, he said. I'm Lando ! We've met.
I squint my eyes. Lando Norris, McLaren, UK... Lando...
And suddenly, an epiphany.
-The club ! Lando from the club ! Well, clubs !
-Yes !
He swings his arm in the air, inviting me to give him five.
I slap his hand, under complete shock.
-I didn't know you were an F1 driver !
He shrugs and turns to his friend.
-She's a real party girl, that one. We kept bumping into each other, like 3 or 4 times in different clubs, back when I was in Paris.
His friend looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
-That's surprising, he says.
-Is it ? I ask.
-Yeah, you seemed like... scary, with these microphone guys. Not like a party girl at all.
-Well there's a time for everything.
He slowly nods and simply stares at me, not saying a word or showing any sign of emotion other than curiosity. I did recognize him from my notes. Oscar Piastri, Mclaren, Australia. His gaze is lingering on me for what I judge is too long for comfort, so I take a chair and sit in front of them, to chat with Lando.
We did bump into each other on several occasions, I think the last time was maybe three months ago. We did not speak much, but he was always fun to be around, and each of our friend groups got mixed up once or twice.
While chatting, he reminds me that we even went to an afterparty at one of my friend's appartment one time, but we didn't have time to get to know each other as he was... Well, busy with the said friend.
The microphone team comes back and thankfully, we didn't get any technical problems for the rest of the day.
The problem I faced was of another nature.
I thought the Mclaren team would be the easiest to interview since we had just spoken together, and I actually know Lando. In fact, everything was going smoothly with Lando. The problem was Piastri. When he's not answering questions, he just... stares. Not a bored stare because he's zoning out, no. He intensely stares, and if I meet his gaze he'd give me the slightest mischievous smile. I find it so weird, so immature, so unprofessional, so hot.
I clear my throat.
-What about you, Oscar ? What do you wanna do once the season is over ?
He looks at the floor and grin.
-I'll go to Paris. Heard it's fun.
It's now my turn to stare in silence.
Thankfully, Lando jumps on the occasion to yap about how much he loves Paris and wants to take Oscar with him.
Once the interview finished, I instantely prepare my notes for Mercedes, trying not to think about Piastri's stange behaviour. I feel stupidly childish, electrified by a simple stare.
Before leaving, Lando hands me his phone.
-We're throwing an after-race party tomorrow night. Give me your instagram, i'll send you the time and place.
I take his phone and add myself, flattered to be invited. We dapped each other up and once he turned his back to walk towards the door, I couldn't help but look at his team mate next to him. Piastri gave me an upward nod.
-See you tomorrow, party girl.
I laugh softly, unable to utter anything other than a useless "Yeah, see ya".