Wrath & Protest [Max Verstappen]

[t w o .]

Max formally met Ms. Rosalie Burnouf when a PR manager brought the drivers from both Red Bull teams together for a family photo. It was tradition - something to put up on the Instagram account to give their followers some fan service. Again, Max found himself next to her, standing still as the manager fiddled with the camera. He stood kind of awkwardly for a while before she greeted him.

"Good morning, Max!"

He looked down to focus on her. He was taken aback by her height, seeing how she was a good nine inches shorter than him. "Oh, good morning."

She was hesitant, not quite sure what to make of him, "Good luck at the race."

Max shook his head, "I think you'll need it more."

"Why is that?"

"You're going to be competing against men who intend to start strongly."

"I've done it before."

"But you haven't with F1 drivers."

The PR guy finally got the camera working and told everyone to huddle closer together. Rosalie's smile was unsure, but it was a smile nonetheless. Max supposed it was going to always be like that with her and that gentle demeanor, always forcing happiness, even when the odds weren't in her favor. She didn't look like she was intimidated by his sentiment at all, either, perhaps interpreting it as some meaningless banter between drivers. A couple of flashes later, everyone shook hands and went on their way. Max himself walked back to the garage to further prepare for the first race of the season. He met with the other engineers there and was about to check out the status of the car before his father, Jos, pulled him aside. Max didn't even know he was hanging around in there until he took him by surprise. He immediately saw his father's expression, one that was riddled with intensity that made Max uncomfortable.

"Papa? What are you doing?" the Dutchman frowned.

Jos whispered, "Did you meet the female driver?"

"I only just met her a few minutes ago."

"She's rather sketchy, no? No one's ever heard of her."

"...So?"

"How are you not bothered by it?" his father asked.

Max hesitated to answer. What response was his dad expecting from such a random question? He had absolutely no idea why everyone was making it such a big deal around the paddock, or why everyone was making it his own business. Did Jos want him to say "She doesn't belong here," or "I hate her?" If he had to be honest, he disliked her carefree attitude, how nonchalantly she treated everything, but he had yet to see her on the track.

"I don't plan on being friends with her," he chose his words carefully as to not potentially upset Jos with a more moderate opinion, "I don't even think she'll make it this season. She doesn't have the personality, I think."

His father nodded in agreement and spat, "They're turning F1 into a joke. Allowing in an American woman that no one knows..."

At least Max knew the distance he had to keep between him and Rosalie now. His father came out extremely strong with his views, so it became clear that he thought his son shouldn't be making any connections with her, else he wanted to face disappointment. Max absolutely loathed getting lectured by him. He could never tell whether the man yelling at him was his father or his coach.

"Don't ever let her take your seat from you," Jos said through his teeth, "It would be humiliating for a girl to replace you."

Max suddenly frowned and took a step away from the other man, "Are you scared of her or something? She's in a Toro Rosso, Pa, what harm can she do?"

"She may get promoted to Red Bull."

"I don't believe that," Max shook his head, "Have a little more faith in me. I couldn't let a goddamn Toro Rosso get ahead of me in points or in talent."

"You better make sure of that, son," Jos warned. He left the garage then, leaving Max alone with a new weight on his shoulders. Just the appearance of a new female driver crumbled his dad's trust in him in an instant. Now there were more expectations to meet, and Max stressed because he knew if Rosalie showed any sign of being more or just as talented as him, Jos would probably disown him.

Does he suddenly think me incapable...?

He kicked the wall and looked back outside across the asphalt. He saw Rosalie walking along the track, her grin stretching widely, probably daydreaming about getting a podium - a fantasy of a naive child.

Max wanted to wipe that joy clean off her face.