Drive to Survive

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Five

"Wanna draw straws?" Brad jokingly whispered.

He and Dylan were stood outside of Max's driver room, trying to decide who should go in there first. They had to be tactical about this; diffusing a Max Verstappen bomb was a delicate task and the goal was to have minimal emotional damage to them and physical damage to the room.

"I should go." Dylan said.

"No, you've borne enough anger this season. I'll go take the fire and then you get him once he's burnt out a bit."

"He might have calmed down already?" She suggested with a hopeful smile.

The hope was cut short when a muffled crash told them Max had just probably kicked the wall. 

"Let me take it, you can get the next one." Brad chuckled, offering his hand out as if to shake on a business deal.

Dylan smiled, shaking his hand and nodding her agreement. She appreciated Brad's care for her and she recognised that he would probably be a better person for Max to talk to right now. They were a team in his racing career and he'd dealt with many of Max's outbursts before. 

"Wish me luck!"

With that, Brad pressed open the door to Max's room and left Dylan waiting outside. 

Inside the room, a storm of papers were discarded over the floor, there was a dent at the base of the wall, and Max was pacing up and down, the anger still firmly radiating off him. 

"I don't want to talk, Brad." 

The trainer took a tentative seat leaning against the desk, "It was an accident, Max. These things happen. Racing is unpredictable, you know this."

Max turned on him, his face glowering, "That was no fucking accident and you know it. He's outqualifying me for the first time this season on a track where quali position means everything and he just happens to lose it on an easy section? Right before I can do my lap for pole? It's bullshit!"

"It's a coincidence, that's all. It's not like he's starting on pole."

Max scoffed, "Oh come on, we all know Charles is cursed here. And that Ferrari shitbox can't maintain pace until the end - or their pit crew will ruin it for them! He's basically on pole and he knows it!"

"Max, hear me. There is nothing you can do."

"I'm gonna fucking kill him! He'll answer for fucking over my race!"

In his anger, he hit at the wall again, turning around and running his hands through his hair. His mind was racing, why couldn't anybody see what he could?! How could Brad sit there so calm and say this was just an accident? He knew his teammate well; he knew his experience on this track and he knew that spinning and crashing the car was entirely possible, but not in that section.

Sergio Perez had more than enough skill to navigate that turn but there was plenty of advantage to be had in bringing qualifying to an abrupt end before Max could put his next hot lap in. He'd been closing the gap to Perez and his teammate had cheated - he had cheated! He was entirely justified in his anger! 

"Dylan's outside."

"Huh?" Max looked up, his attention pulled from his frustrated thoughts. 

"Dylan is stood outside the door right now. So are you going to calm down so you don't scare your girlfriend away or are you going to go run laps until you're actually bearable to talk to again?"