The Undercut | Max Verstappen

chapter 4

Micah's POV.
Spa, Belgium.
7pm.

After the podium ceremony, most of the team and the filming crew went directly to the meeting room in the Red Bull motorhome for the post-race briefing while I stayed behind talking to Alice. She was genuinely extremely nice, which made it easy for us to slip into a relaxed conversation about where we were from and how we'd gotten into motorsport. I took this opportunity as well to ask her who I'd need to speak to if I wanted to get clearance to attend the celebratory dinner the team was having later that night. I explained how I thought it would be a good idea to show Max in a more relaxed setting, with his guard down and simply having a good time with the team. She agreed, and she told me not to worry about the logistics and that she'd text me the details of the dinner as well as put me and the filming crew on the guest list.

Which brings me to right now, standing in front of the full length mirror staring at myself wearing a mid-length navy blue dress with a thin-strap halter neck, the only mildly appropriate item of clothing I'd brought for such an event. Definitely a change from the dark wash wide-leg jeans and polo shirts I'd been wearing during the weekend. And still, I was somehow afraid I'd be underdressed anyway. How did people dress for these things? Taking a deep breath, I decided there was no use in worrying about it, since I'd find out sooner or later. My hair was up in a pony tail, I had a slight wing to my eyeliner and was wearing a pair of strappy black high heels. I was feeling good about myself. There was nothing to worry about. With that, I left the room to meet the rest of the filming crew.

Winnie and Oliver were already waiting for me at the lobby, looking rather fancy themselves, which made a grin appear on my face. "Oh my God, I don't think I've ever seen you wearing something other than joggers and a hoodie!" I told Oli, a very clear exaggeration since I'd attended their older sister's wedding only a year and a half ago.

"You're so dramatic, I can clean up nice!" he dismissed, enveloping me in a side hug and kissing both of my cheeks in that very French way of theirs.

"You're a goddess, as per usual." I said, allowing a second of commotion to the way the emerald green strapless dress contrasted with Winnie's ginger hair.

"Look who's talking! That dress looks like it was made for you." she complimented, lacing her arm with mine as we began to walk outside where an Uber was already waiting to take us to the restaurant Red Bull had booked for the celebration.

"Anyone got any ideas as to how these things usually go?" I asked out of pure curiosity, wanting to be as prepared as possible in order not to embarrass myself by looking too utterly out of place.

"Not really. I expect fancy food with weird names that can barely fill up a plate, and lots of extremely expensive booze." Oliver predicted.

"Boring!" called Winnie, getting into the car before we said our hellos to the driver. "I expect lots of very tired young people looking to have some fun after a busy weekend. It'll be fun, it has to be! Red Bull is the fun team!"

And she had a point. After spending so much time in paddocks the past few years, and finally coming to work in Formula One this season, I could attest to the fact that the vibes at the Red Bull garage and hospitality were immaculate. There was always music playing, people laughing and playing silly pranks on each other. If one didn't know just how ruthless the team was when it came to everyone's performance, they'd think Red Bull workers had no pressure on them. They were the fun team, the winning team. So there was no way that a Red Bull party would be anything less than what they'd already experienced in the paddock.

Boy were we right. From the moment we stepped into the extremely fancy and tastefully decorated restaurant, the loud music hit our ears as we were guided across the dimly lit space. Laughter and cheer surrounded us as we were constantly greeted by members of the team, from the mechanics, to the engineers, the press officers, the marketing team, and lastly Christian Horner and his lovely wife Geri.