62. FROM GOOD TO BETTER

/Charles/

"Ah, but then he wants to get slapped!
Not only does he steal my pole position and MY race, but he even dares to kiss the wrong mouth!
Look at this asshole!
After tonight he could have avoided it, but I'll adapt to his methods too.
If he wants war, I can give it to him. I have a girlfriend too, but not with the same chemistry as his, because the intention with Charlotte is different from the one with Kelly; he's obviously with her because he likes her anyway.
That hug and that kiss were nice, but I want to see if I give him one, which one is nicer!
Of course he couldn't have avoided it, she's his girlfriend and she was there, I'm not saying that.
What irritates me is that they look damn good together and it's clear they're not one of the many fake couples floating around here.
Most of them are for interest, usually girls. It's not like there's always love or deep feelings, after all: who the fuck doesn't want to have an F1 driver boyfriend?
It's all there!
It's easy for us too.
Do we like one or do we set our sights on one?
You can have her easily.
Who's going to refuse?
Right now, I'm not interested in having a woman for life by my side to build a family with and be together when I stop racing.
Many drivers think about this, they look for someone to settle down with, even if they end breaking up. Or like in Pierre and my case, we need cover or some sort of protection from the world.
With a steady girlfriend by your side, no one will bother you and everyone will see you as that good guy worth praising. If they do, they won't put you on the gallows and your life is easier.
Look at Max.
Since he's been going steady with Kelly, a beautiful woman, he's no longer called Mad Max and he's criticized much less. He's more popular, they don't bother him like before and this year they're all say it's the right year, the year of his turning point.
It's true that he's improved his racing, but he's still the same guy, the one with the dirty driving style who never filters out the bullshit he says, all things that no one has ever liked about him before, but all it takes is a woman by his side and everything changes. For people like us, always under everyone's scrutiny, these are things that matter.
What really burns me is that he chose Kelly because she was a good fit and because one day he really wants to start a family with her, live together and maybe even marry her.
I don't think he loves her, and he certainly doesn't feel the same he feels for me or he felt for Daniel, and he'll surely always have a lover—I hope so, of course—but she'll always be there. He chose her because he likes her as a woman and wants to spend his free time with her, the time he won't spend with me or in the car.
It's frustrating.
They're good together. It's clear he likes her. After me, she must be the one he likes the most.
She's a fucking second choice, but for the world she's first. And if you see them, you can't deny they're beautiful together.
And now, after having to give up MY GP, I feel broken.
Fucking broken.
I see everything worse than it is and I can't stand a thing. I snap at Charlotte again, who was only trying to support me and help me get through this moment that, she knows, is difficult for me.
I can't do it.
Even if I wanted to get revenge on Max, it wouldn't be the same with her. It's clear we don't have the same chemistry. Who the hell am I supposed to make jealous?
I'm still thinking about it when Pierre comes up beside me as we go to answer the usual questions from the media in the designated area.
- What did that poor girl do to you besides wait with you for a race you didn't even race in?
His voice is amused because he knows the answer well.
When I watch him walk beside me in the paddock, dodging the usual sea of ​​people comings and goings, I initially sulk and am about to snap at him too, but then I I illuminate.
Here's the only one on the face of the Earth with whom I could make Max jealous, now and forever.
So a sly and damned evil smile finally appears as I look at him.
- You know what we need now?
- Apart from rewinding the hours to yesterday's qualifying?
How well he knows me!
When he says that, I laugh more than I need to and grab his arm with excessive enthusiasm.
- Drink. Drink a lot until I forget this damned shitty weekend!
- I imagine Max screwing up YOUR GP is really something to forget. - he replies, proving that he knows me REALLY well, even if he doesn't know one very important detail.
We reach the media area where Max is already there answering questions and the change from one journalist to the other is perfectly timed, because as he moves he turns and sees us arriving talking together; so I nod and in a voice louder than necessary-and in English instead of French, so that everyone, especially him, can understand me–I say: - So, see you later? - to secure my date this evening.
Pierre laughs and returns my slap on the arm.
- Okay. See you later, come on. Like the old days!
Oh God, it depends on what you're referring to, but if I'd planned it, it wouldn't have come out so well.
Max hears and sees perfectly well and understands even better, especially after I shoot him a brief, narrow, cold look.
You asked for it, dude.
Don't play with me.
You should know me, you know how I am. I react 100% badly, and I don't enjoy being defeated at all.
Today you won, but tonight you're paying for it.
His amused smiling face suddenly darkens, he glares at me and then moves on to another journalist. I take his place, flanked by my press officer.
Go, go with Kelly, I know where you're going because I know you by now and I know your favorite clubs.
Pierre and I will just happen to end up there.
So we can also see where we two stand. After we broke up and took some time, we started over again cautiously, but it wasn't the same as before, even though I did everything I could not to lose him and maintain that precious relationship. But what's the point if we're no longer friends? It was a totally pointless effort for both of us. Si it's time to test ourselves a bit and see where we stand, right?
Maybe I can talk to him about Max and hint at something. Not everything. But like, who knows, is something starting?
Sooner or later I'll have to, because I plan on getting together with him someday, Kelly or no Kelly. Well, it'll obviously be the usual steep climb, but sooner or later I'll get there, damn it. I'm sure of it!

After making him wait longer than necessary to get ready, dressing is always an art for me, especially if the goal is to make someone jealous, I even make him change clubs because the first one we go to doesn't appeal to me, at least on the surface. In reality, Max wasn't there.
I certainly couldn't ask him where you are tonight–it smelled too much like a stalker–but since I know his tastes and favorite places, it goes straight on the second try.
Pierre patiently follows me around and doesn't complain, although between one thing and another I have to say he had every right to.
The real problem this year is that many places are still closed, especially nightclubs and similar, as gatherings are still not allowed. Unlike last year, clubs are open, but it still depends on the genre and many have limited seating, so you often have to wait for someone to leave to get in. Not for us, obviously, but the fact is that the fun is a bit limited, even if it depends on what you're looking for and what you like to do.
Max isn't really into dancing, but he enjoys the noise and being around people. His idea of ​​dancing is to move his head, but he still likes going out and drinking.
In the end Pierre and I manage to get ahead of everyone in line, entering from behind so as not to be noticed. Once inside I glance over the inside of the club with the usual low lights that prevent me from seeing clearly. This is also due to the masks you're required to wear when moving from one side of the room to the other or from one table to another.
There's a chance he might avoid going out, so I took the risk of doing all this for nothing, but I assume that having heard Pierre and I wanted to meet up, he might have dragged someone along in the hope of catching us.
Maybe he chose one of his typical spots on purpose. The dance floors are closed, but there are more tables and places to sit and have a drink, still with the usual number limit.
It's frustrating going out like this with all these restrictions and he could have avoided sticking his nose out of the house, perhaps throwing a clandestine party and risking a fine.
After thinking through everything in a few seconds of exploration, I finally succeed.
He and I are here. I'm alone with Pierre on a strictly two-person outing, he's with his faithful private friends who must have asked him what the point of going out like this was.
'Get the economy moving!' he must have replied with a bold face. I can imagine, I don't even need confirmation.
I look at him, positioning Pierre so he doesn't notice him, unsure of what I'll say.
Max isn't wearing his usual black T-shirt with a cap; his shirt is a light blue one with a collar and no cap.
And he's beautiful. That color suits him even if the lights are low and he's less visible than usual.
Oh God, Charles, pull yourself together and focus on Pierre or you'll regret it for the umpteenth time.”

/Max/

"If he knew how much I've worked to be here without Kelly, he'd give me a prize, but he's watching me from afar with that penetrating, inquisitive gaze of his, as if he were going to tear me apart.
The fact that Kelly is the mother of a young daughter is a plus for me. Obviously she has support for her needs, she has someone to leave Penelope with, but there are limits and she can't overdo it. She was out all day to attend my GP, basically, so in the evening she treated herself to a special dinner with me only to then reluctantly leave me.
I hope I was convincing enough when I acted sad. I could have insisted on having her come over after dinner with my friends, who are my usual few but good ones, especially in these times of various numerical restrictions, but I didn't insist because I didn't want to push things too far. 
I was counting on catching Charles somehow. I could have sworn he'd played that little scene with Pierre, getting caught by me on purpose.
He ignored me the whole time, in the Paddock, limiting himself to hasty compliments and otherwise pretending to be super busy doing something else; and must have lost his phone, because he could have texted me after last night and Friday.
In any case, if he were jealous—and I emphasize IF—this behavior would make perfect sense, but I think I'm about to find out.
As soon as I see him enter the club with Pierre, a sly smile forms on my satisfied face.
I was right.
He was jealous and he did it on purpose. He wanted revenge and you can't do that unless you're seen in the same club with the person who's the other person's weakness.
Simple and banal, but in this shitty time where you can't do anything, just being seen out of the house is a lot for me.
Know, my dear Charlie, that I went out and forced my friends to accompany me just for you. Because I knew you wanted to be seen out with Pierre and I knew you'd look for me until you found me.
It took us a little, but here we are.
In a club with relatively few people compared to usual, where instead of a dance floor there are tables and restrictions, but at least the music is loud, the lights are low and you can drink as many gin and tonics as you want.
I would have had them at home too, but I would have had to make them myself; here at least they make them for me.
And anyway at home, yes, I would have had more people clandestinely around, but Charles wouldn't have been there.
I don't intend to celebrate every GP I win. Even if I win them all, you can't literally party all the time. If it's just one every now and then or maybe one you care about particularly, like in this case, that's another matter.
In the year of limits, it's ridiculous to go out to party when you practically can't, but tonight I absolutely had to.
Charles had called me earlier in the media area. Without speaking to me directly and explicitly, but he had.
- What's the point of going out? You can't do shit! There are limits on the number of people at the tables and in general people who can enter, movement restrictions, mask requirements when moving from one location to another. What's the point?
- Let’s get the economy moving! - I blurt out without thinking too much. Then I look at my friend who's staring at me, unsure if I'm serious; I was staring at Charles, who they hadn't noticed.
- Do you know what an economic crisis is coming? Especially for premises, but for everyone in general. At least those who aren't struggling financially need to get some money moving. We need to help the less fortunate, right? They've closed a lot of places in a year and they'll close even more before things get back to normal.
While everyone else stares at me like I'm an alien or joking, I keep going as if the well-being of a bunch of strangers is important to me. It has never been like this. I've never been so altruistic, I'm not a damn selfish asshole, but what do you want, I just don't think about certain things.
But half my eye is always on Charles, with his beautiful white linen suit that fits him comfortably.
I haven't caught him around clubs often, though since we both live in Monte Carlo that would be pretty normal.
- Why did you change shirt, though? Is it always to moving the economy?
Stan's outburst makes me spit out the gin and tonic I was about to take down the wrong street. I stare at him blankly while the usual idiots burst out laughing.
- Well, you know, I have to do a laundry every now and then... - I immediately joke with excellent alacrity. I just wanted to get Charles to notice me in case I ran into him.
When I glance back at him quickly, trying not to look at him too much, I'm about to choke again when I see Charles touch Pierre's arm with a very sweet look and an even more tender smile.
WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING? DOES HE WANT A PUNCH?
The last time I didn't react well to similar things, he needs to be careful. 
- But Max, do you have problems with liquids? Do you need to gel like we do with my grandmother?
This is Jorrit, I'll headbutt each of them right away if they don't stop. I need to understand what's going on there, why are they interrupting me with their bullshit?
- I wonder what a gelled gin and tonic would be like? Do they sell it somewhere?
- I don't think so, but it could be an idea for a future investment. I think today's young people, who will be old someday, would be very happy with a product like that...
They keep talking bullshit that I occasionally give credence to every now and then with the first bullshit that comes to mind, without ever taking my eyes off Charles and Pierre; I also see them laughing and then talking seriously and close together as if there were no one around, especially not any prohibitions on excessive proximity. I'll print out the rules and put them on their table.
KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE, ASSHOLES!
I down yet another gin and tonic, which I've lost count of, while I notice that Charles hasn't given me his precious attention. I would have noticed, damn it.
What the hell are they talking about, anyway?
I thought they'd broken up, but I never asked him anything. Maybe I should have.
Since we've rekindled our relationship, we've carefully avoided the subject of Pierre and now I bitterly regret it.
As I stare at them, trying to read lips that's impossible from a distance and under these lights, especially since I can't see Pierre's face, my friends complain that they're bored without dancing and that they'd like to find a clandestine party. They're even surprised that didn’t make one, which is what they expected.
But my mood is now turned inside out and after I snap at them telling I don't want to do anything but sit here staring at nothing, the evening with them is ruined, so I text Lando to free them from the torture I represent for everyone tonight.
'Get your ass here immediately, it's an emergency! A matter of life and death!'
As soon as Lando tells me he's arriving, I tell them they can go find a clandestine party and let me know if they find one, that I'll join them when my mood improves.
They comment that they can't leave me alone in a public place with my angry drunkenness, but I tell them to fuck off and finally they give up.
As they leave, they run into Lando, whom they now know because he happened to be hanging out with us; I see them pointing at me and he flies over the usually crowded place, spotting me immediately. When he sees me, he makes a strange face, but since he didn't have to look for me because he already knew where I was, he doesn't notice Charles and Pierre and rushes over to me worried and surprised.
- What's the emergency? Why are they leaving wishing me good luck?
Lando isn't even dressed for going out; it's obvious he's run off somewhere comfortable, and I suppose I can even imagine what he was doing and who he was with.
I pout and pull him down onto one of the empty chairs, then point with my chin across the room, past several tables and people.
It doesn't take long to spot Charles and Pierre.
- No, sorry, you tore me away from Carlos, who had to leave early because I told him you had an emergency... for that? To make me watch Charles and Pierre talk?
I nod, not understanding what the problem is and how he can't understand, but at this point my mind is a little foggy from all the gin and tonics.
- And you couldn't send me a photo? - he asks still shocked. I shrug and tilt my head to the side, sipping the rest of my glass.
- I haven't thought about it. - I reply simply. But when his face doesn't seem all that friendly, I immediately retort: ​​- Come on, they don't understand, you do! 
At this he rolls his eyes and turns back to look at them. He pauses a bit longer, looks them over carefully and then raises his arm toward the bar, indicating two new glasses with his fingers. It goes without saying that they'll be gin and tonics.
- Dude, what the hell have you done? I left you two having an idyllic, intimate moment among a bunch of drivers ready to do battle, and here I find you, dead drunk and depressed, and him chatting intensely and intimately with his ex?
How the hell does he understand me so well?
- Do you see that only you understand me? - and with that I bang my forehead on the table in despair, feigning tears that aren't actually coming.
- And you even wore something different to get noticed! Did he even see you?
Why, why am I not in love with Lando? He understands everything. Right away.
EVERYTHING!
- What do I know...? - I meow desperately as they bring us the two new Gin and Tonics, taking away the empty glasses.
- What did you do to make him so angry? Before the race, even though he was depressed because he couldn't run, you were a sweetheart.
- Why do you think I'm the one who did something? - I jump up like a spring, glaring at him.
- Because it's obviously a punishment! You did something! - Lando is very confident as he says this while sipping his Gin and Tonic.
I pout, trying to downplay what I know very well I did, even if I'm not entirely to blame.
- Well, nothing, earlier I passionately kissed and hugged Kelly in front of everyone. But what could I do? Run away? She's my girlfriend!
I immediately justify myself, feeling something creak beneath me as I say it out loud. My certainties.
Certainties that Lando gives the final blow by staring at me as if I were an idiot.
- Eh, so you were asking for it!
At this point all I've left is the urge to kill myself, but Lando shakes his head and looks back at them, thinking about something he doesn't immediately share with me. I complain a little, but he's definitely not listening, then at a certain point, as if I hadn't been a pain in the ass for a long time, he turns back to me and says decisively.
- Come on, let's go to them!
At this I stare straight at him, wide-eyed and terrified.
- What? - I say shrilly. But he's very determined, and as he's about to get up, he grabs my wrist.
- Yeah, come on, we're all here together, what's the point of not saying hello! Now that we're here, let's pretend it's a coincidence, even though we all know it isn't. Maybe Pierre is the only one who doesn't know anything!
But my first instinct is to hold on to the table, staying rooted here. Not that that stops Lando, who rolls his eyes and, huffing, leaves me here going to them alone. At this point I stare at him as he skips jauntily toward my end.
I want to die!”