The heat is almost suffocating when Emily steps out of AlphaTauri's hospitality and into the paddock. Her little red dress stands out like a sore thumb in the swarm of orange-clad fans, and she's kind of impressed at how dedicated the Oranje army is. She's only been here once before, but despite not being overly familiar with this circuit, she feels right at home. She can hear the roar of the F2 cars on the track, and there's the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and gasoline in the air, mixed with smoke. As a kid, she used to grumble about how loud and smelly it all was, but, as time went on, she learned to love it.
She needed some peace and quiet this morning, so she'd settled into the hospitality which was thankfully pretty quiet on a Friday morning. Most guests will arrive later today, or tomorrow for Qualifying, and she was free to roam around and find a nice spot to work. She'd spent the last two hours in a visio conference with an author and she's filled with excitement at the prospect of possibly working with him.
Mark Johnson lived in the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland, on the gorgeous shores of Lake Lugano, and when they'd met at the Monaco gala she'd attended a few weeks ago, they'd both marveled at the stunning views she'd fallen in love with years ago, on one of her trips. At forty-five years old, he already had three novels under his belt, and they'd discussed their shared love for literature over a glass of champagne. Their connection had been instant, and she'd given him her card, despite him being already in contrat with a publishing house.
It had paid off, as he'd called her a week ago to discuss an intriguing project. Prior to their online meeting, she'd spent the whole flight from Liège to Amsterdam to read his latest work一a brilliant and deeply moving romance that had brought tears to her eyes. She hadn't even put it down in the taxi or in the hotel's hallway, leaving Charles to physically maneuver her around to prevent her smacking her face into a wall.
There was a quote by Savi Sharma that deeply resonates with her, "Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone is a writer, some are written in the books and some are confined to hearts." Mark has an untold story within him, one he'd been carrying for years in the confines of his mind, until he felt ready to share it with the world. Today was the day, but Mark's enthusiasm had been met with cautious hesitation from his publishing house. As a published author, there were a few things that were considered risky. Switching genre and targeting a different audience are on the very top of the list. Mark Johnson had made the difficult decision to not renew his contract and go a different route, with a freelance editor that would allow for more creative liberty and provide an unbiased perspective on his work. To Emily, there was nothing more dangerous than getting complacent with your writing style, and she loved that Mark was willing to risk it all for a chance to finally tell this story. Her excitement was palpable, and even though nothing had been signed yet, she truly felt she could be the right person to accompany Mark in his new adventure.
"Here you are!"
Emily jumps a little, her hand hovering over her heart and turns around to see Isa getting into step with her.
"Sorry, my meeting ran a bit long. Am I late for FP1?"
"No, you're good. It won't start for another hour. I was thinking maybe we could watch from the hospitality."
Emily glances at her friend, who's fidgeting with the all-access pass around her neck. While Carlos's girlfriend is well-used to being in the limelight, Emily knows the public attention can sometimes get to her. Having fans shouting their names is a downright bizarre experience, which had taken years to somehow get used to, but it never quite feels normal to either of them. Looking around, she easily spots the journalists posted in the paddock who are already looking in their direction. On instinct, a small smile settles on her lips and she casually waves at the reporter she recognizes from Sky Italia.
