Vague | MV1 x (fem)OC

Prologue

Irish Parker

"Do I have to be there?" My disinterest in attending the charity event was obvious, yet the scowl on my face only deepened as Marcus stared ahead with a straight face. "Yes, for the thousandth time, you need to be there." A sigh found its way past as I grumbled in the back seat, I'm a racer not a uhh, what do you even call the people who go to these things?" My question was answered with silence. There was no way out of this. Why must this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?

"Stop being dramatic Irish. I can practically hear your thoughts. Public events are good for your reputation which you have managed to so subtly ruin." 

Ah, so he's still salty about last season. 

"Stop being prissy about that, man. It's old news... I'm sure people have forgotten about it by now." 

The hate under my posts and in my DMs says otherwise but who looks at it anyway?  

"Don't be difficult, please. I'm this close to quitting my job because of you." Marcus said, eyes still fixated on the road. "Don't get me wrong Irish, you're raw talent, alright? But you need an attitude adjustment. There have been enough scandals and more than enough headlines." 

I looked outside, head resting against the tinted windows. Irish Parker, 23. And at this moment, I just so happen to be one of the the biggest name in the motor sport industry, for all the wrong reasons. My rookie season was an unsalvageable mess. I watched the championship slip away from my hands, terrible crashes and disastrous rivalries. From the beginning of the season I had been reckless, not only on the track but off-track as well. All the lightening speed and unparalleled skill rose me up the ranks but the brash attitude and quoted 'questionable' antics were necessary for me to survive in this said, world. 

A man's world. That's what they said when I started out. I don't belong here. I don't belong...here? I don't belong belong here...? 

Max Verstappen 

"Great job out there max, your lap times are looking real solid."

"Thanks mate. The car feels mega. I do feel like we can squeeze out a bit more." Being back in the cockpit felt productive after spending all that time on the sim. The team had been perfecting the 'machine' to perfection, and finally it seems to be paying off.  

"Agreed Max. We're seeing some room in sector three, lets focus on that for now." 

"Got it. I'll push a bit harder through the corners to see if we can shave off some time." 

"Also watch for your braking points into turn 10. You're losing a bit of time there." 

"Copy." 

After a couple more laps, I finally got to call it a day. We had been working for way too long, and yet the little tweaks refused to go away. It was frustrating, honestly. This year has to be flawless. We can't afford any mishaps or mistakes. We're finally seeing some stability again and it must stay that way. 

I recieved a call from my manager soon after practice.  Something about exhibition events and galas. Those had never been my thing, I preferred to stay in my redbull gears than those pretentious tuxedos. But I hadn't been left with much of a choice. With the season starting in a month, publicity stunts were meant to began as well, and that was all it was supposed to be. A publicity stunt.