Rise Up

Charter 21: Party Hard Is Never A Good Idea

I have always hated discos. 

Mostly because of the sweaty dancing bodies that usually push you everywhere, not allowing you to enjoy neither a song in peace. Of course I love music, every genre of it, so I usually enjoy that part of going out at some night clubs but don't ask me to dance, above all if I'm sober.

The GP in Austin was great, the atmosphere in the States was magic and I actually had a lot of fun. Some of my old friends, that I met during my semester here, came to cheer me- not only on but also off track-  in the garage and I was so excited to finally have some familiar faces around me.

To celebrate the end of the weekend, Danny invited all the drivers to an after party in a fancy club, not too far from the circuit so we were all there- me too, even if I prayed him to not take me out as I was so tired that I could have fall asleep in a minute or another. Useless to say that my puppy eyes didn't work on the Aussie, neither a bit. 

So here I was, sitting with Charles, Pierre and George at a table in a cool VIP booth, waiting for Max and Daniel to come back with our drinks. Some drivers like Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando didn't come and I wish I was with them right now, in my hotel room, in my comfy pjs, eating a cheeseburger and zapping through the American channels on TV.

"Here we are guys! So: a gin tonic for LeChair, a Moscow mule for Gasly, a simple and sad beer for Russell George- you could choose something better man- and a good Margarita for our lady."

I thanked them and giggled at their presentation of the drinks. It was pretty clear to everyone there, without even a doubt, that they had already a few shots at the bar.

"So how are things going?" Charles, who was sat next to me in the small black leather sofa, asked me, with a big smile on his face. We didn't know each other that well, we met often as I knew better his brother Arthur, who was my teammate for a season in Formula 3. The Ferrari driver was usually a bit shy but after some alcohol everything changes, no?

"Honestly? So good. Horner didn't fire me yet, the car is quite good, my knee isn't too annoying, I'm sipping a good margarita. You know, I can't really complain right now." He chuckled at my funny answer, then Max commented.

"Just to let you know, Christian is really happy that you joined the team." His tone was deadly serious, in strong contrast with his face that was a bit contracted, maybe for the disgusting green shot he had taken with his ex teammate just a few seconds before.

I had no chance to reply as Pierre got up to greet two other drivers that just reached the booth we were in.

I saw Carlos coming to us, already with a glass between his hands. He greeted me with a hug and I was a bit shaken about it as I'm not the biggest fan of physical contact, above all with strangers. When he finally left my personal space, he sat next to Max, showing someone else behind him.

Lando was here too.

He waved and patted everyone's back, at least until he put his gaze on me. He froze for a second in front of the little table that was separating us, covered with empty glasses and different phones, already forgotten for the night. He was about to come closer to me too but I quickly moved away, creating a small room between the monegasque and my teammate, almost as if I was trying to hide between the two boys.

I really needed another drink. Fuck Norris.

***

Remember what I said about discos? Well, call me contradictory or even moody because I was now dancing with the boys on the main dance floor, sipping on my fifth or maybe sixth drink.

I swear, getting wasted wasn't really my plan, but I couldn't handle the whole thing with Lando,  pretending that nothing happened between us.

"You got some good moves!" Danny screamed into my ear to be heard over the loud latino music, known also as my favorite ones.