Chapter 2
JESSICA
I spend the first few days behind the camera, getting to know the system, the other reporters, cameramen, and the rest of the crew.
It isn’t a big team, which I appreciate because it makes it easier to get to know everyone and ask questions about the process. Anne has been very helpful and has introduced me to the whole crew over the last few days.
Andrew is the semi-famous member of our crew, a former racing driver who commands a lot of respect in the paddock, making it easier to get interviews with the top guys.
Then there’s Molly, who is the editor for our online stories. She is the closest to my age, and was a little shy at first, but as the days go on, she’s warming up.
When I first arrived, everything felt very overwhelming, but the whole team helped me get settled and assured me that I’d pick things up quickly.
“Hey Jessica!” Molly calls as she approaches our spot. Each race weekend, the media outlets are assigned to their own area, which serves as our base for the weekend.
“Hi Molly, how is everything?” I ask her. We have the first race this weekend, and everyone is feeling the excitement build.
“It’s good, I can’t believe the first race is already here! Who are you cheering for?” she asks me, and even though our job is to report as neutral and unbiased as possible, everyone has their favourites.
“I don’t know yet, I think I’ll have to see them perform before deciding on anyone. How about you?”
A beautiful thing about F1 is that people can cheer for whoever and whichever team they want, and it won’t stir bad behaviour or fights, as you may see in other sports.
During a race weekend, fans from different teams sit together, enjoying the excitement of F1 with good vibes.
“Yeah, I agree, but I must say, Peter is looking ready to fight for it again this year.” Molly is talking about last year’s winner, Peter Centimo. Among many reasons, it’s his looks and attitude that stand out.
Everyone loves a good villain, and Peter delivers exactly what the audience wants. He’s often moody and rude to reporters, so even though I don’t find him charming or appalling, many fans, like Molly, enjoy the bad boy act.
He likes to give reporters a hard time, and Molly buys into all of it.
As for me, I believe the BMW team, led by Luke Hastings, has a strong chance at the championship this year. There’s just something about him.
One thing is certain in F1: nothing is ever guaranteed.
“Yeah, if I have to choose, I’ll put my money on Luke Hastings and BMW, they’re looking really strong.”
Molly agrees with me, but says she’s hoping for some paddock rivalry between the two drivers.
◆◆◆
I’m looking down into my notebook full of questions, ready to go if the opportunity arises. The dream, of course, is to interview one of the drivers, and hopefully I’ll get there sometime during the season.
For now, though, I’m happy with either an interview with a team official or, even better, a team principal. They usually take the time in the interview zone, which is where we are currently set up.
Suddenly, Steve is pushed forward, causing him to stumble, while the camera comes flying towards me. I react swiftly, grabbing hold of the camera before it crashes to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going!” I nearly shout at the person who pushed Steve, clearly annoyed that they almost caused him to fall, along with our expensive equipment.
As I help Steve regain his balance and put the camera back on our stand, I look up and freeze.
This cannot be happening, not on my first official day, not ever.
I am staring right into the eyes of Luke Hastings, the golden boy of Formula 1.
He seems furious for reasons I can only guess; he was the one who knocked Steve over, not the other way around.
Still, he looks like the whole of Star News could go six feet under right now.
I’ve only seen him in pictures and video clips, and they truly don’t do him justice. His hazel eyes, a captivating blend of gold and brown, narrow slightly as they focus on me, accentuating the sharp angles of his nose.
His full lips curl into a subtle smile. Dark brown hair, resembling rich chocolate, and a defined jawline. Adding a touch of ruggedness, he sports a well-groomed five o’clock shadow that enhances his features, giving him an effortlessly handsome look.
Every detail contributes to an allure that’s hard to ignore.
“What did you just say to me?” he asks, raising one eyebrow slightly.
I almost roll my eyes at him. I can’t lose my job on the first day, especially not for insulting a driver.
Still, I’m annoyed by his attitude toward someone who’s just trying to do their job.
I know quite a few of the drivers in F1 have big egos, and while I expected to see that firsthand, I never imagined it would be in this way or so close.
I don’t want to be rude, but I do expect basic human decency, regardless of how big a star you are in the paddock.
You shouldn’t be allowed to push people around and expect them to fall at your feet when you’re in the wrong.
I stare right back into his face and speak with a clear voice.
“I said that you should watch where you’re going.
I don’t know if you noticed, but you almost sent my dear cameraman Steve tumbling to the ground, along with me and our expensive gear.
It would be appreciated if you were more careful.
” I deliver my sentence with just the right amount of attitude, or at least that’s what I’m thinking.
I wasn’t impolite, but I stood up for myself and poor Steve. He’s just looking at us awkwardly, obviously wanting to be anywhere but in this situation.
The corner of Luke’s mouth lifts slightly, almost like he’s intrigued or fascinated by this whole exchange.
He looks me over with hidden interest, and I stand up a little taller, determined that he won’t intimidate me with his curious eyes.
“Is that so? This paddock is my playground, princess, and you should be more careful not to stumble into the walkway where high-performing athletes are coming through to get away from the claws of the media.”
Is he for real? I look around and see that, well, yeah, Steve could be standing more to the side than he was, but there isn’t a lot of room in the interview zone, and we are doing our best with what we’ve got.
And calling the paddock his playground. He may be a star, but this is also a place for hard-working people who dedicate themselves to his beloved sport.
“It’s all right, really. I’m truly sorry, Mr. Hastings,” Steve interjects, his voice a mix of concern and urgency.
I narrow my eyes at him, a simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Maybe I don’t have to fight everyone’s battles, but I can’t abide those who treat others as if they are beneath them.
I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart and sharp tongue to settle, fearful of saying something that could jeopardize my hard-won place in the F1 world before it even begins.
“No worries, Steve. And you are...?” His tone is casual, but I sense a subtle curiosity in his gaze.
After the chaos of this moment, I hesitate to reveal my name.
Am I afraid he’ll run off to inform Anne that her brand-new reporter just insulted one of F1’s titans, suggesting I should be kicked off the team? Probably.
Keeping my identity under wraps seems like a safer option.
However, I don’t want to provoke him further; his eyes are scanning me intently, waiting for my response.
I relent, channelling as much confidence as I can muster.
“Jessica Edwards,” I say, acutely aware of the weight my words carry.
“Steve, Jessica. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but I don’t lie, so I’d rather say I hope we don’t run into each other again.” I stand there, tension crackling in the air, suddenly acutely aware of just how tall he is.
I have to tilt my head back slightly to meet his striking gaze, which seems to pierce through the noise surrounding us.
He studies me for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, then adds,
“Or maybe I do.” With that, he strides purposefully into the paddock and the exclusive realms reserved for drivers.
We linger a moment longer, watching him go, and it takes me a few seconds to digest the fact that Luke Hastings, with all his charisma and star power, just hinted he hopes we run into each other again.