Snap Happy (A Daniel Ricciardo story)

31. "You're My Favourite Deputy"

EM

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT MONSTROSITY ON YOUR FACE???"

I didn't usually swear a lot, and particularly not at that volume but these were exceptional circumstances. 

"Nice to see you too" he laughed as I stepped into the room and closed the door. That signature grin was still on his face, but this time it's beauty was marred by...well I didn't know what it was. 

"I leave you alone for a few days and this is what you get up to?"

I stroked my fingers across his cheeks, then traced the offending growth along his jawline and up across his top lip, not bothering to hide my displeasure at his facial topiary. 

"Don't you like it?" he asked innocently in mock surprise. 

"Please don't tell me you're keeping it 'Shuriff Dayun'" I begged in my best Texan drawl.

"Yeyus may'am" he mimicked, smirking broadly. 

"Oh God" I rubbed my hand across my forehead in a gesture of despair. "Daniel Ricciardo you are not a sheriff, or a cowboy you're an...an...Aussitalian, and if you don't shave your face then I'm not shaving my legs!" I finished triumphantly. 

"Wanna bet on it"

"Fine by me" I retorted stubbornly, collecting my towel and stomping off purposefully in the direction of the shower.

"By the way we've been invited out tonight, you might want to wear something nice...a dress perhaps?"

"Screw you!" I scowled irritably. Jetlag and losing were not a pleasant combination. 

His laughter accompanied me into the bathroom...along with the razor. 

*** 

  

"Darren...can I ask a favour?" I enquired cautiously as we surveyed the track. For once even Darren had had to re-familiarise himself with the circuit having only been there a couple of times before. Of course for me it was yet again uncharted territory. 

"Go ahead?"

"Can you introduce me to Vladimir Rys?" I asked him, feeling more than a little embarrassed about being starstruck by another photographer. 

"Hey, I thought I was your favourite snapper around here" Darren looked hurt but I wasn't buying it. Even though we were nearly a whole generation apart we'd gone from just colleagues to a comfortable working friendship based on what I hoped was a mutual liking and respect.

"You are, but I've already met you!" I countered. 

"Can't you walk up and introduce yourself or do I have to hold your hand?" he mocked, although I sensed it wasn't entirely a joke.