Lando POV
It's nice to have a week off from racing, from travelling around the globe and from having to see that psychopath Oscar, but I still set off for the MTC after four days of video games and streaming. I feel crazy driving to work on my week off, but I hope it'll be more interesting than sitting at home replaying all the stupid things that have happened this season. I decided not to report the steam room incident. I don't need any more negative attention.
I'm accosted as soon as I walk through the door.
Grace grabs me first and makes me model new merchandise for the website. Then Dan drags me to the lab to get my thoughts on some 3D models and statistics I can hardly understand. When I'm about to go for lunch, the pit crew take me to their training room to get my opinion on a new tactic they want to try and ask whether I could park the car in the pit box slightly differently.
I don't want to go to the canteen after all that, despite feeling starved. I know I'll run into more people desperate for my help with something. It's important to help the team, but it is my week off.
My phone dings as an email pops up. My heart flutters. It's from Zak Brown.
Come to my office at 4pm.
This can't be good news.
I spend the afternoon in the simulator. It goes by anxiously: testing, feedback, testing, feedback, snack break, testing, feedback. Finally it's four o'clock and I'm dragging my feet to the office. I think I know what this will be about. I'm surprised to hear someone following me.
"What are you doing here?" Oscar Piastri asks as he catches up.
Surprise ripples over my skin as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This cannot be good.
"I have a meeting," I say cautiously. "Don't tell me you're invited too."
Oscar confirms my fears and I note the shakiness in his voice. I take a deep breath as I put my hand on the door, every nerve firing with anxiety. I push it open.
"Sit down," Zak Brown growls, not turning around when we enter. He stares out over the lake and the forest while Oscar and I sit down on green leather chairs. We don't speak and we don't move.
"I'll give you one guess why you've both been called in here. Or actually, I won't. Because we're all damn well aware why."
He prowls from the window to his seat behind the huge mahogany desk, hot eyes trailing over us. I shrink in my chair, but Oscar cowers.
"Do you have any idea how much money, blood, sweat and tears have been poured into this year's car? Do you have any respect for the men and women who have made it their life's passion to get you two idiots to the top of the table?"
I open my mouth to protest but one glare from Zak Brown stops me immediately.
"You can't even be in the same room as each other, let alone be race partners. Do you understand that this team doesn't need either of you if you're going to be acting like ten-year-old karters? You're Formula One Drivers! I don't care what bad blood exists between you, you are ruining the reputation of this company. Ferrari have overtaken us in the championship because you can't see eye to eye. Stop being so selfish and put the team first! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I nod and Oscar nods too.
"You've got one more chance. One more misstep, and you'll both be packing your suitcases. Don't ruin any more of my races!"
"I'm sorry."
"You had better be. If Ferrari take this championship from us because you two hate each other, then neither of you will be driving for McLaren next year. Do I make myself clear?"
We nod.
"One more chance!"
Zak Brown dismisses us and I push myself to my feet, mind in a daze. I've never been told off like that before. I never realised just how noticeable my feud with Oscar was to the rest of the team, and the world in general. Could it really be the reason we've fallen from first in the championship?
I head out into the corridor and down the stairs, making my way for my car but barely registering anything around me. I need to step it up. I've been silent far too long, I've been way too quiet. I thought I was keeping myself focussed but I've been letting Oscar walk all over me. No more. Starting this weekend, it's no more mister nice guy. I play to win, and this is my game.
Oscar
My phone dings, interrupting the music blasting through my headphones. I'm halfway through my fifth lap of the lake and nobody should be bothering me on my week off, so who's texting me? I don't know why I decided to come to the MTC. I guess I needed some focus, to feel like a part of something, even if I'm outside running while everyone else is inside working.
The start of the season has been stressful to say the least. My head is all over the place. I haven't been able to get a win despite the speed of the car and Lando has been outperforming me at almost every qualifying and practice session. It's embarrassing. Lando Norris has gotten inside my head.
A freezing wind blasts across the lake as I complete my fifth lap. I assume that's around five kilometres, it certainly feels like it. I check my phone, remembering the message, and my heart drops like a stone.
Meet me in my office at 4pm.
Zak Brown. I look up at the glassy façade of the MTC and squint a little, wondering if he could be looking down at me right now. He must have seen me running and decided this is the perfect time for a chat.
I have enough time to jump in the shower and grab something to eat before the meeting. As I walk up the corridor, I see another person ahead of me and walk faster to catch up.
It's Lando.
"What are you doing here?"
"I have a meeting. Don't tell me you're invited too," he grumbles.
"Yeah." I can't keep the shakiness out of my voice. Now there can be absolutely no doubt what's going on here. Lando opens the door and I trail in behind him.
"Sit down," Zak Brown says, but he stands by the window barely even looking at us. I guess he's spent a long time thinking about what he's going to say. Sure enough, the lake is visible through the glass.
"I'll give you one guess why you've both been called in here. Or actually, I won't. Because we're all damn well aware why."
He stalks from the window like a lion and leans forward, sitting on his chair. My body recoils against my will. I never expected he could be so terrifying.
"Do you have any idea how much money, blood, sweat and tears have been poured into this year's car? Do you have any respect for the men and women who have made it their life's passion to get you two idiots to the top of the table?"
Lando opens his mouth in what I consider his bravest ever moment, but Zak Brown looks like he's about to explode.
"You can't even be in the same room as each other, let alone be race partners. Do you understand that this team doesn't need either of you if you're going to be acting like ten-year-old karters? You're Formula One Drivers! I don't care what bad blood exists between you, you are ruining the reputation of this company. Ferrari have overtaken us in the championship because you can't see eye to eye. Stop being so selfish and put the team first! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Lando mutters. I nod, unable to take my eyes off the man who's red in the face.
"You've got one more chance. One more misstep, and you'll both be packing your suitcases. Don't ruin any more of my races!"
"I'm sorry," I squeak.
"You had better be. If Ferrari take this championship from us because you two hate each other, then neither of you will be driving for McLaren next year. Do I make myself clear? One more chance!"
I feel like I'm going to be sick. Zak Brown waves a hand to dismiss us and I can't wait to get out of there. I stand up, shaking. That was the worst I've ever been spoken to by a member of my racing team, and I know I deserve it. I've been acting like a child. Zak Brown is right, Lando and I are adults, and I should be able to work with him even if I don't like him.
Otherwise he might not renew my contract for next year.
I reach the office door first and hold it open with a shaking hand as a gesture of camaraderie. Lando walks straight through without a word or a backward glance.
I gape in astonishment. All that, and he doesn't even care. Not a word of amends, not even a glance to check how I am. Lando hasn't changed since Formula Renault. He's stone cold.
I shake myself and head after him down the corridor, although he's long gone by now. I've been giving him far too much attention recently. That's the reason I'm driving so badly. I need to refocus on myself, my own training and efforts and put Lando out of my mind. Let him do what he wants. If I'm at the front of the race, nothing else matters to me.
Certainly not the guy who's been dead to me for seven years.