Micah's POV.
Spa, Belgium.
This is it, I told myself. This is the moment of truth. The last race before the summer break, and also the day when my new job begins. Red Bull had flown us out to Belgium, private, might I add, and we were being welcomed to SPA like we were part of the royal family. 5 star hotel, all expenses paid. They were clearly desperate for us to be on board with the project, they weren't willing to spare a single penny if it meant we saved this guy's ass. And while the treatment was certainly nice, in my head it could only mean one thing: he was probably way worse than what the media said about him, and they were simply making sure the business deal was just too good for us to refuse to do the documentary.
Either way, for me there was no other option. I wanted to keep my job, and even more than that I wanted to prove myself to be worthy of all the trust my boss had in me. If I screwed this up, I may never get another opportunity like this again. And after all, this was all I'd ever wanted. From the moment I was fifteen years old and fell in love with various kinds of motorsport (mainly MotoGP and Formula 1), I'd been fascinated with the idea of working around the paddocks, traveling the world and interviewing the athletes I admired so much. Once I entered college and made my way through a Journalism bachelors degree, and a Sports Communication masters, I found a new appreciation for documentary work. When I was first hired by Fireproof Sports Media, I knew that in order to enter that specific field of work I would need to make my way through the ranks. So I did race recaps for low tier websites, I did fan events at different locations during race weekends, I did paddock interviews for F3, F2 and most notably Formula E and the 24 hours of Le Mans. And now, right when I least expected it, my dream job was falling into my lap. A year long documentary project about the life of Max Verstappen, two time Formula 1 World Champion, notorious hermit, rude to the press, amongst many other not-so-notable qualities.
And here I was, only minutes away from finally standing in his presence so we could start working right away. Of course, even after the initial debrief with my boss, I'd done my fair share of research about Max, about his family, his friends, relationships, and most of all his professional career. For the most part, I always tried not to go into an interview with any definitive preconceived notions about the subject, but it was very hard to remain neutral about one of the sport's most polarizing characters. It was hard not to have an opinion. But I tried my best to erase any of the times Max complained about being asked "stupid questions" from my mind, if anything to ease my own mind as I made my way into the paddock, followed by the camera crew that was going to accompany me for the entirety of the project.
Nick was a 42 year old, large and tall, kind-looking man, a father of two who would not stop talking about his family at any chance he got. He was one of those people whose loud laughter was so infectious it lightened up the mood in any room he walked into. Despite his long beard and deep-set blue eyes, he was as non-threatening as it gets. But he was one of the best directors I'd ever met, in fact he'd worked with Red Bull several times before and he was probably a big part of why we were hired to do this. He brought the expertise to the team, which was a good thing considering my confidence wasn't at an all time high the longer I spent thinking about all the ways in which I could mess this whole thing up.
Thankfully, there was also Winnie and Oliver. They were twins, only a year older than me, and incredibly talented behind a camera. They brought the fun to the team, for sure. Despite being extremely professional, the poster children for punctuality, and hard working as all hell, they knew how to have a good time. I'd been working with them since I joined the company almost three years ago, and they'd quickly become two of my closest friends in the world. It had been nothing extremely gracious of our boss, Aiden Brooks, to put them in my team for this. I assumed he was trying to make me feel at least a little bit more comfortable in such a different environment, especially considering the twins had a little bit of experience shooting documentary style vlogs for a few football teams.
And then there was me, Micah Weiss, 27 years old. Currently shaking as we fast approached the Red Bull Racing hospitality and waited to be greeted by someone from Max Verstappen's team. A few minutes passed and nothing happened.
"Did they forget we were coming today?" asked Winnie, running a tattooed hand through her beautiful, long, ginger hair.
"I doubt it, we triple checked yesterday that everything would be ready. They sent us the paddock passes this morning. They knew we'd be here." I replied, awkwardly standing as I looked around trying to make eye contact with anybody that could possibly be looking for us.
That was the first thing I noticed from the Red Bull hospitality: It was full of people. There were guests who looked like important businessmen, dressed in suits and sipping from whiskey glasses, probably sponsors. There were guests with more relaxed attire, probably personally invited by the drivers such as family members and friends. And there was the odd celebrity, athlete and a bunch of influencers walking around taking pictures of everything.
"This is so unprofessional." stated Nick. Yes, sweet, patient, kind-hearted Nick said that. But also, he was the same Nick who had been working in this field for fifteen years. He was a well known name. He had worked with these people before. He had the right to feel appalled that exactly thirteen minutes had passed and nobody had acknowledged our presence.
"Should we call someone to let them know we're here?" asked Oliver with his thick Manchester accent.
Just as Nick was opening his mouth to say something, a very well known figure entered through the doors of the hospitality, arms wide open and a gentle smile on his face. "Nicholas! Hello! Welcome once again!" no other than Christian Horner said, embracing our director and making him forget all about whatever it was he'd been about to say. Yeah, that was Nick. Too nice for his own good.
"Christian! So nice to see you, mate! Here, let me introduce you to the dream team." the older man stepped aside to put us in the center of attention. "Winnie and Oliver Cromwell, they're the camera crew. Best there is, don't let their size fool you." he joked in reference to the fact that Winnie stood barely at 160cm, and Oliver's 168 wasn't that much more impressive either.
"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a blast together here, as you'll see there's a lot of young people working around here. It gets quite hectic sometimes but it does keep us all youthful, not gonna lie." Christian said after introducing himself to the twins.
"And here's our little star. Micah Weiss. If you're going to trust any of us to deliver the results you want, you should trust her. You won't regret it." Nick said, introducing me and sending me into an induced state of what-the-hell-do-i-say-after-that? Thanks, Nick? No pressure?
"Well, that's quite the introduction, I'd say." Christian said, for the first time giving me his undivided attention and the same kind smile graced the features of his face.
"I'll try my best to live up to it." I said, surprisingly relaxed compared to the way my heart was beating against my ribcage.
"I want to apologize for making you guys wait, we were dealing with a bit of a... situation, you could say. Which is why I think you should come to the garages now, we'll take you upstairs to the meeting rooms and the driver's rooms so you can set up and get to work. I don't know what you had planned for today, we'll discuss that in a moment. But I think you might want to see what we'll be working with first." he said, confusing me further as he guided us towards the side of the paddock where we were supposedly needed.
"What kind of situation are we talking about?" I asked curiously, needing to come up with a plan on the spot, in case we needed to redirect our ideas for the first episode.
"A Max Verstappen kind of situation." he said. And I didn't have to wonder what he meant by that for too long, because come to find out, only minutes later we'd find ourselves standing outside his drivers room, Christian banging on his door, and him refusing to come out. Just like a fifteen year old child who was rebelling against his parents for not letting him hang out with his friends on a school night. "Max, the documentary crew is here already. Can you please come out and have a chat with them?"
A long silence ensued. We were all looking at each other for a beat of a second, and Christian looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
"Max, I am not your father, and you're not a child. I will not ask you again. You signed a contract, now come out and do your god damned job if you care about this team at all." the older man muttered between gritted teeth, the calm and collected man I'd met minutes prior was nowhere to be seen.
But apparently, something about those last words had proved to be effective since the door was opened slowly but surely to reveal a young man dressed in Red Bull Racing apparel, racing suit falling loose around his hips, torso covered by dark blue fireproofs that clung to a slightly defined chest. His dark blonde hair was wet and falling all over his forehead, piercing blue eyes framed by a deep frown as he assessed all of us with a long, cold stare. Not much for introductions, this guy. "Is that it?" he said, index finger pointing at us, but his eyes fell on me for a second too long. I didn't know whether to feel surprised that he had finally acknowledged our presence or offended that he seemed to deem us unworthy of any kind of pleasantries.
"Jesus Christ, Max—" Christian was interrupted. Well, by me. If we were going to make this thing work, we needed to establish a few things, the most important of them being: be nice to me and my crew or we're going to have problems.
"Hello, Max Verstappen, is it?" I said, extending a hand out towards him and expecting to break down his ego a little bit.
However, I was met with raised eyebrows and the stare-down of the century. "You're the journalist, aren't you? Shouldn't you know my name already?" he asked arrogantly.
"The journalist's name is Micah Weiss, thank you very much." I replied, lowering the hand he hand even bothered to shake.
"It's your job to do your research, not mine." he shrugged, the tension rising in the air as he didn't tear his icy eyes from mine.
"Oh, sorry, I was under the impression that we're the ones trying to save your career here. Am I wrong?"
He took a sharp intake of air, as if he was trying to contain his emotions for a change, and from the corner of my eye I could see Christian rubbing his temples. This wasn't my most pleasant moment at work, but the power dynamic needed to be established sooner rather than later. If this was going to work at all, he needed to drop the moody teenager act. After all, I had done my research. He was 25 years old, definitely old enough to accept his fate and act like a decent person.
"There's not much of a career to save on your end, as far as I'm aware." he spat out with crossed arms. I nearly choked on my own breath. How could someone be so disrespectful? How could he have such disregard for others' jobs? For their time? His attitude was appalling, he needed to be taught a lesson or two.
"That's enough, Max." Christian warned. "What the hell's gotten into you? You agreed to this! You signed a bloody contract!"
"I thought we were going to do this with professionals, is all." the complete and absolute idiot had the guts to say right in front of my face.
Oh that's it. "I'm sorry Christian, but this isn't going to work out, after all. I'm not here to have a literal toddler disrespect my team. This is not what we signed up for. He can be a child all he wants, but he's not entitled to our time, nor to our work. Thank you for the amazing opportunity, but we are declining any kind of association with your client until he decides he can act like a grown up, our dignity is worth more than whatever money you're willing to offer us." Of course, I was bluffing. I could physically sense the rest of the team tensing beside me. And our boss was going to kill me specifically if I ruined this.
But despite my inexperience, I knew how this world worked. Max Verstappen might think the world owes him something. But the reality is that the drivers never run the show. If Red Bull Racing wanted something to be done, they would get it done. Even if it meant forcing a grown adult to do his job. So, I knew that my speech on self respect and work ethics, was really just a way to get Christian to do something about his prick of a driver, and to do it fast. We really didn't have any time to waste.
A few moments passed, they felt like minutes, but truly in a few seconds of intense eye contact and a few whispered words I did not catch, Horner was able to have Max tucking his tail between his legs. "I'm sorry." he mumbled. And I nearly asked him for clarification, just to mortify him even further. But I decided I needed to take what I could get with a character like him.
"All right, then. Shall we get to work?" I spoke, my voice light as a feather, full of satisfaction as I eyed both of the men in Red Bull gear.
"Absolutely." said Christian with a warm smile back on his face. "I can tell I'm going to like having you around." he stated with a comedic wink.
Max, on the other hand, buffed before he followed his boss, nearly bumped into me as we began to make our way towards one of the many meeting rooms. I had been nervous on my way here, but not now. Somehow, learning how much of an asshole this guy actually was, had made the job seem all the more exciting, a challenge I was willing to accept. He had no idea what was coming for him. He didn't call the shots, from now on, I did. And there was nothing he could do about it. Because once I was after something, I got it done, no matter what.
Let's get this show started.