The Undercut | Max Verstappen

chapter 6

day 1 (august 5th)
MICAH'S POV.
Monte Carlo, Monaco.

The sun was shining in all its bright, unadulterated glory on this Monegasque summer afternoon. The driver who was assigned by Red Bull to help Nick and I to move into Max's place in Monaco unintentionally gave us a scenic tour of the mediterranean sea as we made our way from Nice to the principality. Everyone was out enjoying the hot summer day, eating ice cream, drinking a cold beer, or tanning by the pier. The place was filled with joyful laughter, music blasting from ridiculously extravagant cars and loud, friendly conversations that embedded de air. I couldn't help but smile as I rolled down the window and allowed the hot air to blow in my face while I rested my back against the leather seat of the SUV we were currently in.

This wasn't my first time in Monaco, having been here before to cover the F2 Grand Prix the previous year as well as the Monte Carlo Masters.  Yet back then the resources had been scarce for a couple of low-tier journalists and we were squeezing into the train from Nice, staying at an old run down apartment near the French border and eating supermarket food. My Monaco experience had never been this fancy. It was clear that Red Bull wasn't sparing any expenses when it came to making sure we stayed on board with the project. We made our way up the steep streets of the principality, and the more we immersed ourselves in the heart of it, the surrounding luxury became almost overwhelming. The mansions that lined up the side streets as we went up hill and entered a private complex were unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

Two larger than life blocks of French Colonial Style condominiums were separated by a vast bright-green-grassed courtyard once we crossed the iron gate, driving around a magnificently tall sculpted fountain. This is extremely luxurious, I thought, even for a place like Monaco. Nick and I looked at each other in awe, not really knowing what to say as the chauffeur drove us to a stop in front of a beautiful walkway that led to an impossibly big and expensive looking dark toned wooden door. The number 33 in gold was stuck to the wall and shone in the sunlight, making me roll my eyes for a second as I opened the car door. Of course he'd choose his former racing number, that egotistical little demon.

It's not until Nick snorts from his place beside me that I realize I've actually muttered those last words under my breath. Not that I regret them, to be honest. Over the past few years I've come to learn that pretty faced, successful boys with a disregard for authority tend to be menaces.

We exit the car, thanking the driver as he helps us unload our luggage from the car and that's when we hear the front door opening, a clearly sleepy Max Verstappen appearing behind it wearing black basketball shorts, a plain white t-shirt and black Nike slides. Rubbing his eyes and offering us a small smile as he stepped outside.

"You're here already." He said, shaking Nick's hand before coming to a stop to awkwardly stand in front of me. "Hey" his words were tentative as he shifted his body weight from one foot to the other.

I could tell that he was trying to gauge my reaction before doing anything. And I was trying to be understanding because I knew how difficult it must be to have two strangers moving into your home and installing cameras all around. Especially with how against it he had initially been, and how much he clearly valued his privacy. After all, he lived in one of the most security swarmed places in the whole country.

"Hi." I replied, the corners of my mouth slightly lifting politely. "Are we here too early?" I asked.

"No, don't worry. They didn't tell me what time you were supposed to be here. I just slept in a little bit." our eyes met for a brief second before we both looked away and I busied myself grabbing my suitcase. "Shit, of course, come in. I'll help you both." he grabbed my suitcase's handle and turned to do the same with Nick's.