ALICE Ch 28

Alice loves driving. She loves travel. She doesn’t mind working out. She loves Kylie. Maybe more than she wants to admit. She doesn’t mind Faye. She doesn’t even mind Glynda.

She hates the press. She hates interviews. She hates Netflix. She hates promoting products. She hates endorsements. She hates sitting down with her financial manager and listening to stuff about Roth IRAs and taxes.

She doesn’t hate her fans, but she does hate interacting with them. It’s nothing against them; it’s just weird. Being famous is cool. It’s also difficult.

At least Alice never has to think about what she’s wearing; she has a gazillion different pieces of FUTA apparel, although it feels like she’s always wearing the various polo shirts.

She’s made herself as presentable as possible and mashed a FUTA cap onto her short, curly, always messy, out-of-control hair. She’s clean. She smells good. She’s wearing lip gloss.

It’s the best she can do.

Alice strides into the restaurant at the very top of the hotel, the bougiest one. The place is almost deserted. Two women sit at a table.

“Oh jeez,” Alice mutters, approaching. It’s been a long day of going over footage from previous Saudi Grand Prix races and going over the track layout as well as practicing with the PS5. This meet and greet is the final hurdle before she can relax in her room.

The women are well-dressed. One is obviously older with a short, masculine, no-nonsense haircut. She looks kind of tough and imposing, although she’s obviously rich and fancy in her white pantsuit. The younger woman beside her has long, glossy, straight chestnut hair that she’s wearing loose with a cute sort of sundress.

Alice approaches the table shyly.

“Am I in the right place?” she asks shyly.

“Of course,” the older woman replies, gesturing graciously for her to sit. She speaks with a thick accent that wouldn’t be out of place for like a villain in a James Bond movie. At least Alice is starting to get used to dealing with people from other countries.

“OK, cool.” Alice sits. “Um, I’m Alice Wilde. I drive for FUTA,” she says automatically.

That seems to amuse the women.

The older of the two offers her hand.

“I am Irina Oslova. This is my daughter, Sasha.”

“Hi. Uh, it’s super nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Irina replies, pouring wine and offering the glass.

“Uh, thanks. Are you big F1 fans?” After Alice asks it, it seems like a stupid question. These two have paid some money to be able to meet with Alice like this. It’s weird, though. People do this with Max. Lewis. Even Lando. But Alice? Alice has had a short and decent, but unspectacular career from karting to F2, posting good lap times and a handful of wins. She’s driven exactly one F1 race and she wasn’t even on the podium. FUTA is a new team. How does she have hardcore superfans so quickly? Something’s not right.