razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 2 | red bull racing

Two knocks were all it took before she heard Hans' voice telling her to come in.

The man eagerly typed on his computer as she walked in, he didn't even spare her a glance and Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hans always had the dullest expression on his face, even though sometimes he did look pissed. Right now he wasn't really giving her anything. Cassandra stood in the middle of the office and looked at him, waiting for him to stop doing what he was doing and pay attention to her.

One of his hands suddenly flew in the air, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat, please."

She did as told and sat in one of the chairs, resting her hands on her lap and waiting for him to get it over with. It took a few seconds, but eventually, Hans stopped typing and took off his glasses. It was the same tired face she already knew. Sometimes he looked like Robert De Niro but if the actor absolutely hated his life. Cassandra wondered, not always, if his life outside the magazine was as miserable as he made it look from his expressions.

The situation was different from before. Every time Cassandra had been in that office, he had already prepared an entire speech about what she was doing right or wrong, most of the time it went more onto the wrong side. Besides, the last time she set foot there he welcomed her with a well-detailed employment termination letter.

Fun times.

Hans fixed her with a glare before he decided to finally open his mouth. "How are you?" He couldn't sound sourer even if he tried.

Cassandra shrugged. "I'm fine." She didn't ask back because they weren't there for the pleasantries and all that crap. "You wanted to talk, I'm here."

"Right, the article." Their phone call to set up the meeting had been no more than words of confirmation. No details or anything, just simple yes and okay. "We pitched this idea of an article for Formula 1 and got it accepted. I moved some of my contacts and managed to land an interview with the drivers for Red Bull Racing, one of them is the current World Champion. The team is based here in Milton Keynes." So Abigail wasn't so far off. Cassandra wished she could understand a word he was saying. If she took the job she would definitely have to do some deep research. "I want you to write the article. I'll pay you as an independent, or freelancer, whatever they call it nowadays, you choose how you charge."

The question burned her tongue. Why her? She wanted to ask but wouldn't give him the pleasure of believing she cared what he thought about her and her skills.

"I thought Jan always wrote those kinds of articles." She said it because it was true.

Hans sighed, rubbing his temple. "I have my best guys working with other stories, it's been a moving month what with launching the website and merging with the sports magazine, all of that has generated more traction for us. You know." She didn't know because he decided to fire her before everything took off. "It's good money, Cassandra." Hans didn't know she was living her best life as a nepotism baby in the editorial industry. Or that she was ashamed of that. "And it's important, you always wanted those articles when you worked here."

And yet she never got them. Cassandra bit her tongue to avoid saying that. No conflict.

"These guys, athletes or whatever, they can be very superficial and some lack that kind of interest we seek for a good story. Maybe they are just champagne, fancy cars and girls, who knows? But you have a way with words, and I believe you can get the best out of this." Was that a compliment or was she hallucinating? "And not making it boring, people also need something to indulge their curiosity."

Cassandra blinked. Was that his way to get her to do the job? Ass-kissing? "Who are the guys?" Not that she would know who they were just by getting their names, but she could start somewhere.