LIGHTS OUT •F1•

•chapter twelve•

Since the Italian Grand Prix, Indie had been the favourite of the F1 gossip columns. The promise she had made to not date a driver had gone out of the window, which had naturally not gone down very well.

"From now on, you are banned from any other garages; I'm serious, Indigo," Marty fumed as he slammed three gossip magazines down on his dining room table. "I cannot believe you would defy the one promise you made to me,"

Indie took a deep breath as she watched her father pinch his nose in frustration. He wasn't angry as much as he was disappointed, which everyone knows is way worse.

"That is so damn unfair, dad, and you know it!" Indie screamed back, tears prickling in her eyes. "You let Darcy go to McLaren, so why can't I go to Mercedes? I hate Red Bull!"

Marty had a fire in his eyes and not the warmth on a winter day fire. The engineer's eyes, which were usually focused, looked like an arson attack on the girl in front of him.

If Marty and Penelope hadn't raised their daughter to stand up for what she wanted, this discussion would have been much more manageable. However, Penelope had always been proud of the 'sass' that Indie had claimed since she was young, and she firmly believed that wit, sass and stubbornness were good when raising a young girl. Penelope did not want to knock them out of her.

"Darcy is not my child, and she hasn't taken it upon herself to get her name in countless publications, not to mention a favourite on Paddock Girl," Marty countered in a cutting tone. "This isn't like you, Indigo."

Indie scoffed. How did her 57-year-old father know anything about Paddock Girl, and if he did, surely he knew it was all purely gossip. Even Checo could have told Marty that.

"What isn't like me? Having fun? Going out? You still see me as the little girl following Lewis around like a little puppy... I'm not twelve anymore," Indie scowled.

As soon as the words left Indie's red-lipped mouth, she regretted it. There was one person that she didn't want to bring into this, and that was Lewis Hamilton. Marty's work with Lewis had gone down in history, and Indie knew that despite moving to Red Bull, Marty didn't want anything to taint it.

"Indigo, don't. You know Lewis is like a son to me, and now you've got him wrapped up in your little games," Marty seethed as he stood up and began pacing around the oak-laden formal dining room. "Did you not see the fallout from Abu Dhabi? I'm sure the last thing he wanted was to be wrapped up in one of your little escapades,"

That one hurt. Indie adored the 37-year-old, and there was no way she was to know that one little picture of Lewis picking her up from a club was going to go viral. Of course, Indie's story of her wearing his shirt probably wasn't the best idea, but it was purely innocent – and it was a $700 Saint Laurent shirt.

"B-but dad...these headlines are lies?" Indie pointed out as she picked up the one that read, '7-Time World Champ dating teammates former fling' "I would never do anything to hurt Lewis, you know that, please tell me you know that."

Marty shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you liked George. And I hear from the garage whispers that you spent a night with Max... I do not even want to know what 'spent a night' with means."

That was the one that Indie knew her father would have an issue with, but in the girl's mind, this was the one that Marty should never believe. If Indie's arguments with the Dutch driver in the garage had been anything to go by, Marty should know that Indie couldn't stand Max.

"Did you even think how your scandals would affect my career?" Marty pointed out, "I have a reputation to uphold, and within four races, I've been reduced to the father of Indie Jay, who likes to distract World Championship contenders and leave bars with arguably the greatest driver to ever grace the sport!" He panted