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"I don't want to do this." I complain to Leah as she grabs my chin with her hand and uses it to twist my face from side to side, checking over my makeup.

"Perks of the job honey, so you don't really have a choice." She replies monotonously before nodding in approval and letting go of my face. "I like the red lipstick, shows you're not innocent."

"I thought Christian wanted me to look more innocent." I roll my eyes, already sick of this before it begins.

"You're driving for redbull, they hardly want the innocent look. Don't wear your hat for this interview because your hair is already sitting nicely and I'm not having you complain about hat hair when the video comes out."

"Would I really do that?" I feign hurt to get Leah to keep talking - the longer she talks means the later I need to walk in to the room.

"We both know you would. And we both know that you're trying to delay the inevitable, so stick a smile on that face, go in their and sit your arse down, and answer the questions just like we practised so that you give me less work to do in the future."

I've got to admit that Leah is definitely one of my favourite people on my team - she's real, which is difficult to come by in this world of two faced snakes. She was assigned to be my PR as soon as I signed the contract with Alphatauri last year, and to be fair to her it hasn't been an easy job. She's had to manage my loud mouth in interviews, the consequences of my not so very smart decisions both on and off track, all on top of the media whirlwind of sexist comments - the worst being from Sergio Perez who publicly announced that I should be in the kitchen instead of Formula 1. Fair to say that stealing his opportunity at a Redbull seat which coincidentally kicked him out of F1, was a very sweet moment.

But through all the highs and many lows of the career she's stood beside me through it all, and hasn't once disliked me for it, which is why I advocated for her to be promoted to Redbull when I made the transfer.

With a huff I do as I'm told and push open the doors to my nightmare. The black tapestry is up in one corner of the room with a single seat placed in front of it and a lot of cameras and bright lights pointing at it.

"Madeline, if you could please come over and take a seat." One of the producers guide me, being careful not to block any of the cameras views of me.

Sending one last glimpse back over my shoulder to Leah, I see her sarcastically wave before I'm sat down on the seat and microphoned up.

I'm very aware of Netflix's tactics. I know that from the moment I was outside of the room that they had the cameras rolling, eager for any crumbs of drama that could be picked up on their audio recordings, and from the moment I've stepped in each and every single camera was placed on me, waiting for my downfall.

"Welcome back Madeline." The interviewer smiles as she readies herself on the chair opposite me, adjusting the cue cards in her hand.

"Thank you." I stiffly smile trying not to make things awkward.

"Blue looks good on you." She points out, probably also noticing the thick layer of tension building in the room.

Looking down at the Redbull team top, I pull it slightly to make sure there are no creases. "I prefer champagne, but that'll come soon." I play the cocky card. I know that they're already going to make me out to be a major bitch - they done it last year - so at least this time I'll make the editing teams life a little bit easier.

"That's a very confident mindset, especially for only your second year." She cocks her head to the side, seeming surprised with my answer.

"If you don't think you can win in F1, then you shouldn't be here. There's plenty of good talent fighting for my spot."

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