The Right Time (Lestappen)

The interview

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*****

Max was sat in his apartment next to Vicky, Red Bull's head of communications. Opposite them sat Marcus Drayford. The journalist was currently messing around trying to fix an app on his phone so that he would be able to record Max's interview. He knew this would be a huge story and he wanted to make sure that he had captured every last word. 

Vicky was getting a little impatient, she had been less than impressed when Max had told her he had already agreed to speak with Marcus. She had initially insisted that they back out of the interview but Max didn't want to get Marcus mad and risk him delving deeper into the rumours about Charles. After much persuading he was able to convince Vicky to let him continue but only on the condition that she be there to help guide him through the questions. Right now he was grateful for her reassuring presence. 

So far Marcus had been incredibly polite and friendly, not how Max had expected him to be but still Max did not trust him. After all this was a man who was more concerned about breaking a story and less concerned about how it would impact those involved. The friendly demeanour seemed somewhat of an act designed to lull Max into a false sense of security. Max was not that stupid, he just wanted to get this over and done with as quickly and as painlessly as possible. 

Vicky had arrived early and had prepped Max for all the questions she thought Marcus would ask. As Marcus started reeling off his questions, Max realised that Vicky had, for the most part been right. He asked about when Max first knew he was gay, how he broke the news to his family, who else knew and how he thought it would affect his career.  Max had tried to answer as simply as possible, he didn't want to give away more than he needed to. Vicky had seemed pleased with his answers and had yet to have to step in.

It seemed Marcus was also getting a little too comfortable as he now began to steer the conversation in the way of Max's sex life. Max immediately felt himself tense up, there was no way he was going to talk about that. He wondered why Marcus thought it appropriate to ask such questions just because he was gay, as if him coming out was a green light to ask as many intimate questions as possible. Marcus tried asking about Max's first gay experience as well as what he looked for in a sexual partner and even what type of things Max liked in bed. Vicky had immediately shot down these questions, under no circumstances was she allowing Marcus to continue down that line of questioning. She firmly told Marcus to move on with his questions. Max had been thankful she was there on his side.

After what seemed like a lifetime Marcus announced he had one final question, Max was relieved, the journalist's fake sincerity was now starting to grate on him and he didn't know how much longer he could remain polite.

'We can all see that the grid is made up of some good looking men. So, is there anyone in particular that takes your fancy? And if so does that effect the way that you race them?'

Max wanted to roll his eyes at the question. What did Marcus really expect him to say? He was hardly likely to confess to his boyhood crush on Lewis Hamilton, although he could imagine Marcus' excitement at getting that story. Max could just see the headline that would follow. That would be another level of embarrassment next time he saw Lewis on the grid. Luckily Vicky had already prepped him for this question so he was able to deflect without really answering at all, much to Marcus' disappointment.

'Well thank you Max, that is everything' Marcus was already packing up. Luckily he was in no mood to hang around, he had to get the article completed for tomorrow morning. 

'Don't worry, you did great' Vicky reassured Max before she too had to leave to fly back out to the UK for an array of meetings leaving Max alone in his apartment. When they were both gone Max let out a huge sigh of relief. He hadn't realised just how much he had been holding his breath, tensing up at each question, worrying about what Marcus would ask next or whether he would say something that would be misinterpreted. He had never been quite so relieved to say goodbye to someone.

Charles had been making his way back to his apartment when he saw Marcus leaving Max's. Was he seeing things? Marcus was a well known, although not entirely respected, journalist and Charles was sure it was him. He panicked and ran into the elevator pressing the button to his floor as quickly as possible. What had Max done? Why was he talking to Marcus? So many questions were running through Charles' head that he barely had any time to think about what he was doing. No sooner had he gotten to his own apartment than he turned back around and decided he needed to confront Max right away. His anger propelled him towards the Dutch man's apartment and before he knew it he was banging loudly on the door.

Max was shocked to see Charles outside. He was even more shocked when Charles pushed his way into the apartment. He looked absolutely furious.

'What the hell were you speaking to him for?' Charles really was as furious as he looked.

'Charles, it's not what you think.' Max started to explain but was interrupted.

'How could you do this to me Max? I thought we were friends now, I trusted you with the most important part of my life. I knew I shouldn't have told you, why would I think that Max Verstappen would care about anyone other than himself? I guess you think telling everyone my secret will break me, give you some sort of advantage on the track or something', the words were spilling out of Charles mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying.  He barely stopped to take a breath

'Is that what you really think of me?' Max was shocked by the vitriol in Charles' words.

'I think you would do anything to get ahead, you don't care about other people, you don't even know how to care, don't know how to feel emotions.'

'Charles-'

"I remember seeing the way your dad was with you. Tough love, show no weakness. Eliminate the competition. No wonder you ended up the way you did. You're completely heartless.'

'I am not! ' Max raised his voice for the first time, full of anger and resentment. Very early on in his racing career his dad had taught him to suppress his emotions and then when he got older everyone had told him he was not emotional enough. How are you meant to develop emotional intelligence when you aren't allowed to express your own emotions?

Max quickly closed the space between him and Charles. Coming face to face with him. His mind was racing, how could Charles even think he would do such an awful thing? 

Max felt his hands ball into fists, he wanted to hit out, to scream and shout. He had been through so much in the last few days and all for someone who thought the absolutely worst of him. This was exactly the Charles he remembered from when they were younger, he couldn't even believe he ever felt sorry for him.

Charles could see the anger flickering in Max's eyes but Charles was just as angry and he didn't want to back down.

'Tell me then Max, what the hell were you doing with Marcus? What did you say to him?' Charles was now squaring up to Max, daring him to tell him what was going on, to confess what he had done.

'I'm gay Charles. I was telling Marcus I was gay. He was taking my story. Instead of your story he has mine.'

Charles had barely been listening to Max up until this point but he suddenly froze. Max was gay. He was slowly realising what had actually happened. His adrenaline was all over the place. 

'Max, I -, I - I'm so sorry' Charles could barely think properly. So Max had been protecting him? 

'It's ok Charles, at least I know what you really think of me' Max's anger was now mixed with sadness and  disappointment, 'I think you should just leave.'

Max took one last look at Charles and then retreated to his bedroom leaving Charles stood alone and wondering how the hell he was going to make up for this.