LOVE OR RIDE | LESTAPPEN

chapter three - friends for show

Charles

I would most like to get up from my chair and scatter everything in the room. I'm furious, because although I couldn't help myself and said too much at the podium, seeing that he was happy about I don't win, it doesn't mean that he can behave like this! This is abnormal! He decided that beating me on the podium during his anthem would be the perfect plan. Well, fuck, it wasn't, because now we're sitting in the office, waiting for our team directors, along with the FiA people, to come back from their interview and tell us what they decided.

"It's your fault." I say dryly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Mine?" the boy raises a surprised his eyebrow. He continues holding a handkerchief to his nose, from which blood is pouring. "Mine?! Fuck, Leclerc, don't blame it on me, since you started it!" he nervously turns towards me. We look quite amused. We're sitting battered at two ends of the room, like fussy children who've been punished and are told not to talk to each other. Gods, how much I would give to have them come back here and say that he has a restraining order against me.

"Don't tear yourself down, Lord, I can do anything. We already have a problem enough because of you." I roll my eyes.

"If you didn't exist, they wouldn't exist."

Ouch. I don't show him that I'm hurt by these words. I press my lips into a thin line, sitting in silence for a while so that he thinks he has won this argument. As soon as I see a barely visible smile on his face, I speak up again.

"If you didn't exist, no one would have a bad day, and nothing would have happened today."

He wants to reply, but Christian, Frederic and the other three men enter the room. Verstappen and I both get up from our chairs, standing almost at attention as they look at us. Finally, Horner inhales resignedly.

"Sit down." Vasseur says. We both follow the command again. I'd be happiest making me a waiter, just to give me a break.

I know that this is no longer just a simple incident. This is a serious situation. Just getting beaten up is awful, let alone on the podium, in front of so many fans and during the anthem. Damn, I'm going to get kicked out.

"We've received complaints from fans." begins the FiA director, sitting down at his desk. "Hardly that! We got complaints from the Netherlands for insulting the anthem and from Bahrain, because none of them wish adult people to behave in such an outrageous way on the podium during the anthem!" he raises his voice.

I feel like a small child who has done something wrong. I lower my head, looking at my shoes. I don't know what I could say. Does I have regrets? When I see the bruised face of the Red Bull driver, I know I don't, which worries me even more. I should be begging for forgiveness right now, but instead I remain silent, waiting for them to mete out a harsh punishment. I hope this does not reflect on the team.

"So? Are you going to throw him out?" asks Verstappen suddenly, which is like a bucket of cold water for me.

I immediately raise my head, finding him with a furtive glance. He looks bored towards everyone, deliberately not paying attention to me. What an asshole. Outraged, I forget about punishments, consequences and the people next to me. I won't let him push me around by making him feel superior.

"Me? More like you! You're the one who hit me, you're the one who constantly has a problem and acts like a spoiled brat! I may not have a father, but he definitely loved me, or at least more than yours, because you, although you have one, are not well-mannered. Mine focused on two things, while yours still treats you like you're an emotionless machine out to win to make money." my mischievous smile widens with each successive word, which I say slowly and clearly so that he understands their meaning, because he is too stupid to comprehend them when I speak quickly and angrily.