Faking it || Lando Norris LN

3

Lando Norris

"That's P1, Lando. P1!" William spoke over the radio. I could hear the cheering and the screaming from the garage under his words.

"Woo-hoo!!! Let's go boys!" I chanted.

Now, this is more like it.

I made my way back to the garage and got out of the car. A dozen pats on my back greeted me along with smiling mechanics and engineers. Even Carlos was already out of his car and was quick to pull me in for a hug. His result had been nowhere near as good, so his praise meant a lot. Teammate rivalry was serious shit, and it would be foolish to pretend it didn't sometimes get the best of us, but in the end, we're best friends, so we always pulled through against all odds.

"Media pen's waiting," James said as he patted my back, his eyes lost somewhere else.

I nodded and walked next to him, but right before we turned a corridor towards the media pen, he stopped me dead in my tracks and looked me in the eye.

"The press is still not over last month's drama." His blue eyes pierced into mine. "Remind them you're here to race, not to stir up trouble. Sponsors are unhappy as it is." He spat.

I rolled my eyes and hit his shoulder as I made my way to the media pen. James Davies was nothing if not a pain in the ass. Carlos and he had turned out to be great friends, but I'd never properly clicked with Davies. Of course, Carlos was less of a hassle for his marketing team. He partied, he drank, he slept around, but it would never compare to the "trouble" (fun, as I call it) I got into, so it naturally inclined the headlines to talk about me rather than him.

The press had begun writing about my lifestyle after my first season in 2017 and never stopped since then. During the 2018 and 2019 seasons, there had only been a couple of articles each year disapproving of my life outside of Formula 1, and they had gained little attention.

However, during last season's fight for the World Championship title, a lot of articles and media outlets would criticize the trouble I got into and attack my behavior, condemning me to lose the title in each article because of my attitude, my partying, my drinking. Whatever. I'd still won.

It had all gotten more chaotic during winter break. Media outlets would already make a lot of coin by using my name in headlines and attacking whatever the fuck I was doing, but being able to crucify my behavior using the words "World Champion" in the headline? Jesus, that made money.

Needless to say, Davies wasn't happy with it. Officially, he was the head of McLaren's marketing and communications team. Unofficially, he was an annoying babysitter. He'd call me almost every day during winter break either to make sure I was staying out of trouble or scold me for not properly staying out of it.

The week before pre-season testing, he literally tracked me down, showed up at my apartment in Monaco, and refused to leave my side for an entire week to "make sure I didn't bring any new drama so early into the season." It had been useless. There was plenty of winter break drama to drag with me during the entire season.

"P1 for the reigning World Champion." The first interviewer spoke, a tall man I'd never seen before. A lot of the interviewers were new this year, and others got switched depending on locations. "What a great start to the season, huh?"

"It'll be a great start once you see me spraying champagne on the top step." I smiled, putting on the McLaren cap Davies had just given me and gripping the barrier in front of me. I really am fucking tired.

"You'll have a RedBull next to you and a Ferrari behind you tomorrow, thoughts?"

"And prayers. Must be boring to see the back of my car all race long." I joked, and the interviewer laughed with me for a quick second before squinting his eyes at me.