#rush 2013

Job hunting was exhausting. You were recently laid off since your temporary contract expired. It was your first job after college, completely unrelated to what you studied, and you took it only to pay the bills. Still, even if you didn't feel particularly inspired by the drab office and the fat man who was your primary supervisor, you did your job well and earned respect as an excellent personal assistant. The only call back you received was from the McLaren car company who needed a new office assistant for a year of someone's maternity leave. You took it, of course. Not that you knew anything about cars. It didn't matter, really, what the job was about. You would just make schedules and run about with coffee. This is how you got put as an emergency personal assistant to the newly contracted James Hunt, whose previous personal assistant left in a fury the week before the race. "And who is this little darling?" James looked down on you with a flirty smile when the manager introduced you. "That's your new personal assistant," his manager said dryly. "If I hear anything about a harassment lawsuit, your ass is mine." James raised his hands in mock surrender and winked at you. You looked helplessly at him, unsure how you were supposed to make this man do anything. "Ah, um, it's nice to meet you," you said softly, looking at him with a small smile. He huffed, muttering something. You tilted your head. "It's nothing," he sighed, "Just, I don't know, be around or something. Tell me what I have coming up in the day, things like that. Just for a week, isn't it? Don't worry about it." You nodded, lowering your eyes a bit. Didn't seem like he needed your help much. Still, you wanted to do your job well and followed him around with a perpetual bottle of water and a scheduling board. "Mr. Hunt, you have a press conference at one today," you said, arriving freshly next morning with a bottle of ice-cold water. "Do you drink coffee? I didn't know, so I brought water." "Sweety, anything out of your hands," he said, smiling at you. It seemed he was in a better mood. You blushed a little. "Okay, Mr. Hunt." For the next few days you were stationed at the McLaren camp, mostly because James was there, going over last details with their mechanics and everything about the care. You tried to keep out of everyone's way by positioning yourself in a tiny corner, flinching every time from a loud burr of the drill or the welding equipment or whatever they were using on those cars. That is, until a heavy arm descended upon your shoulders. "Unused to the noise, are you? Let's get you out of here, darlin'," James said, leading you towards the entrance of the mechanic shop. "We'll just take a walk." You nodded, eager to get away. James is a good person, you thought. No matter his reputation, but he tried to do right by his team, of which you were now part of. You walked for a while, with James mostly talking about some wild story from bar hopping the week prior, when he trailed off and you saw a full, mischievous grin grow on his face. "Oh, darlin', why don't we go say hello to our friends from the Ferrari club over there?" He practically lifted you up with the force of his excitement and you barely nodded before being dragged to the Ferrari camp where James made a direct line towards Niki Lauda.

"Niki!" You watched the curly haired man's head lift from whatever drafts he was looking at. You felt your face heat. Most people considered James the most attractive racer, you knew, but this man in front of you, with such serious eyes and confident air, made your breath stop briefly. James dragged you until you were practically at arms length to Niki, and you could see how long his eyelashes were. Niki's eyes shifted from James, whose large, blond, loud presence drew the eye, and fell upon you, basically smothered under James's arm. "That's my new personal assistant," James boasted, pushing you a bit forward, like he was showing off a shiny car. "Now don't go being all mean like always, this one is as shy as a kitten." Niki's eyes met yours and you lost your thoughts for a short, empty moment. Niki's face turned a bit rosy. Oho, thought James. Niki nodded at you. "Nice to meet you." I nodded back, smiling a little to be polite. He was handsome, but it seemed like he wasn't really interested. "Well, you'll be seeing her more often now," James said with a wide smile, "I'll be bringing her with me everywhere like a good luck charm. To every race," he said meaningfully. Niki turned his head away from him. "You'd need a charm, at this rate," Niki said, prompting James to roll his eyes. Niki stole a glance at you and looked away again. "And you," he said, clearly addressing you without even looking, "I suppose there is no harm to his image left to be done. You're safe." That made you smile. "Thank you, Mr. Lauda." "Niki is fine," he said. That was how your work with James Hunt started. Typically a day involved various engagements for his sponsorships, and you would fetch coffee or water when needed, and book hotels, things which made his life easier. It also meant that wherever James went, you went, and he often went to Niki. Mr. Lauda was a very straightforward person. He was blunt, but you saw that everything he said was true. It was annoying to his mechanics and opponents, but you thought it was a great quality to have. He would never lie maliciously, or cheat, or sabotage anyone. He was a good person, you realized. It was too bad you didn't seem to amount to much in his eyes. He almost never talked to you. James, however, insisted that it was the opposite. "Niki likes you, trust me," James said, "He even let you touch his car!" You looked at James sceptically. "It was because he knew I didn't know anything about cars. Couldn't do any harm to it." James threw his arms in the air. "You don't get it. The car!" You looked at James with scepticism. He rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

-

A few days before the race there was a press conference. James was good at this sort of thing, talking to people. You easier with every funny joke he made for the reporters, and your attention drifted to Niki. He made clipped replies, furrowing his brows at times. "Niki, are you confident you will win?"

"Are you nervous for the race, Niki?"

You heard a fire of questions open as soon as he finished answering just one. Soon you can tell Niki has had it, with questions getting progressively more rude by the minute, and you could almost predict the moment he would stop the conference.

He waved his hand at them, signalling that the conference is over, and stepped out from the table. He saw you standing behind James and motioned to follow him. Once you were out of the interview room, Niki turned to you. "There is a party after this, I'm sure. James won't miss the opportunity. Are you going?"

You shook your head. "No, it's all a bit too loud for me. I spend a lot of time in the noise of the paddock either way, so..."

"I see," said Niki, "Then come with me to dinner." His eyes roamed your face. His eyelashes were long, you thought. Pretty.

"You won't go to the party?"

"And do what? Drink, talk to those assholes?"

You smiled. "Okay. Let's skip the party and go somewhere nice. Any suggestions?"

There was a small smile on Niki's face. "I'll drive."

-

The restaurant was a quiet, hidden spot somewhere in the tight brick-laid alleys of the city, illuminated by the lanterns beside it. The waiter led Niki and you into a booth with soft leather seats.

Niki's features grew warm in the light of the muted dimmed room. He looked at the menu and then at you, asking if you've decided on what you'd like. You nodded and he ordered for the both of you.

"What made you want to work with the McLaren?" Niki asked, in his usual blunt way, though his eyes conveyed more curiosity than you've seen before in him, "You don't seem like a car girl."

"I'm not," you said, and hastily added, "Sorry." You looked down for a moment. "I really needed the money, and they were hiring, and I was just applying for everything under the sun back then without a single call back... So it was a real chance for me." You watched his expression for disappointment, but his face barely moved a muscle.

He nodded briefly, in that Austrian curt manner you liked. "The reality of having to make a living. What would you rather do?" He looked at your embarrassed blush and raised his eyebrow.

"I think I might have gone to illustration school," you said quietly, "Not that I have any talent, but, you know. Some school, to build a portfolio, and then something. An illustrator job. Making pictures of cute animals for children's books." Niki's eyes softened.

"You should do that."

"I don't have any skill or talent," you said, laughing it off. "Not like you and racing."

Niki looked at you a moment longer. "I have ability," he said, "But there were many who had it also. I just had the last name banks knew enough of to keep giving me loans to start my career in F1. I didn't do anything else with my time. Just this."

At that moment, the food arrived. Steak course for him, pheasant with vegetables for you, and red wine for the both of you. He looked at you, eyes full of meaning. You let out a breath.

"Niki..."

"What?"

"I will have no money to survive on my own, will have to start from zero skills, and there would be thousands of artists better than me vying for the job." You cut down the pheasant breast right across the grain, dipping it in creamy sauce, chef's specialty.

"So the money is the biggest issue, is it not? You worry you would have no roof over your head and no food." Niki paused, and set his knife and fork on the plate. "Have you tried finding a lover?"

You almost choked on the piece of fowl. "Niki, I could not ask someone just fund my whole life."

He shrugged. "Why not? You are a beautiful woman. All that the men want."

You watched your static vegetables with the interest of a cat. "I don't know. It doesn't happen like that."

There was a longer silence between Niki and you, and you asked him about his hobbies outside of racing to switch to a less depressing topic. You didn't want that to be his impression of you. Niki huffed, but talked about taking flying lessons at the academy nearby, hoping to get a pilot's license so he could fly without an instructor.

"Do you like working for James?" Niki asked when you were digging into the chocolate cake with a tiny silver spoon.

"It's good," you said, "He's very extraverted. I can see he's a good person. Doesn't yell at me or anything. Though maybe it's because I'm a woman - his mechanics get some of the brunt of it sometimes."

Niki nodded, as if he already knew. "Good." He motioned for the waiter and paid the bill for the both of you without asking, making you blush at the gesture. It felt old-fashioned, but inexplicably you felt taken care of.

He drove you to the apartment complex you directed him to, in the nice part of town you picked to be close to the job, but in an old apartment which looked dark and uninviting. Niki slowed in front of it, and frowned. "You live here? Alone?" You nodded and endured the brief concern in his expression. "It was the best choice. At least the neighbourhood is not that bad," you tried to smile. Niki looked at you, and you were struck by the intense feeling in his hawk-like eyes.

Then he sighed as if nothing happened. "It was a nice evening," he said. "I would like to do another."

Your face brightened into a rosy pleasure at that. "Me too," you said, in a near whisper. You took one last look at him, and got out of the car, walking towards the entrance to the building, until you stepped inside the lobby and heard the sound of tires move.

-

The McLaren paddock was abuzz again. You walked in, noticing the workers and James all standing around something. Another piece of equipment, probably, you thought, and moved to your single little desk in the corner. James noticed you and cawed, "Darling, your secret admirer sent you some new stuff!"

Your eyes widened, blush filling your cheeks at a fast rate, making James grin in glee. "What, you won't come to see what it is?"

You moved towards the circle and when you got closer, you saw an open courier box. You chuffed; the boys probably thought it was oil or one of the car parts and opened it. Inside the cardboard box was a rather large, state-of-the-art drawing tablet, "Wacom" running along the edges of the packaging. Your breath stuttered, and you touched the pristine package with your fingertips. You noticed a small envelope sticking to the side of it and fished it out to open. You ripped the paper open at the side and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Thank you for registering for ILLU1001. Please see the class time schedule below for Section 2. Note that the final project deadline...

You looked at the words like they made you dumb. You felt James's lanky frame lean over your shoulder to read it for himself. He whistled.

"Taking classes? Shit, did they check your age when they hired you?"

You batted him away like a fly and he laughed.

"Is the Registrar's Office full of red, perhaps?" He asked, eyes glinting knowingly. You averted your eyes.

"Let's see," He put a finger to his chin, and you knew he was trying to be as annoying about it as possible. "First the flowers, then a bag," he looked meaningfully at the tote you carried everywhere now, "And now this. All anonymous, of course." He winked at you and mouthed 'of course' in an exaggerated whisper. You rolled your eyes. "Nothing to do with anyone in F1, right?"

"I don't think it's what you think it is, James," you sighed, setting down the registration slip. "I told him how much I wanted to do this, and maybe he felt pity or something, I don't know."

James looked at you, affronted. "Honeycakes, you might explain this new box like that, but men don't gift flowers and bags to women they pity. No, no, the feeling is called a bit different. Niki's smitten with you."

You hid your face in your hands. "Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's clear as day. A man like that takes his mind away from racing... sets it on a pretty thing like you..."

You shook your head. "There is Marlene."

"Ah, Marlene," James said, setting his arm around your shoulder and leaning to tell you conspiratorially, "Dear Marlene's ex-boyfriend, that actor what's-his-name, came back begging for a second chance. Lots of roses, from what I hear. Niki is unattached, though he says he is 'focused on the next race'. I can see where he is focused, " James shot a look at the box.

"He hasn't said anything," you said, chewing your lip, "I don't want to misinterpret..."

James rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, for... Fine, fine, don't say I didn't try," he said, and walked off to one of the mechanics working on suspension. You looked at his back and shook your head, but his words made something in you flutter with excitement.

The gifts that started appearing at the McLaren paddock and at your apartment's concierge booth were a surprise after that not-date at the restaurant. What concerned you was that they were going up in value with each gift. You appreciated all of them, loved them really, but you didn't want Niki to think you were a gold digger.

The work day, aside from the box, was uneventful. Just more clanking metal noises, some menacing words with James when he wanted to go bar hopping citing happy hour, some more meetings with sponsors who wanted to see the McLaren superstar for themselves.

You walked towards your apartment building exhausted by the demands of the job. It was the perfect environment for extraverts, you thought. People, noise, speed.

You stopped. There was an expensive car parked in the front, with a fire you knew leaning on it.

"Niki," you breathed out, smiling. He looked up from the book he was occupying himself with to meet your eyes and his features smoothed over into a brief softness. "What are you doing here?'

"I was waiting for you. Get in," he said, eyes focused on your face, and opened the passenger side, waiting. You tilted your head and came closer.

"Really? Where are we going?" This close you noticed that Niki was much taller than you. He wasn't as tall as James, but you nevertheless felt even safer around him. Maybe it was that he was smarter. The scent of sandalwood and motor oil clung to him.

"You'll see." Niki sat behind the wheel and started the car.

You drove through the streets until you started recognizing the more upscale areas where James and Niki lived. All of you rented, of course, races pulling you out of your home cities. F1 is a different league in many aspects, you thought when you saw the gates.

"Are we going to your place?" You asked Niki.

"Something like that," he said, driving in smooth turns through the meandering pavement that ran through the woodsy area dotted with separate lodgings. "You'll see."

He stopped the car in front of the rather large house in a traditional style, not nearly as ostentatious like some of the others you've seen during the drive, but you could still feel the money in it. Old money. It had an entrance door painted warm red and a white porch. Niki got out of the car and opened the door for you to follow.

He pulled out the keys out of his pocket. You waited for him to put them into the keyhole and open the door, but he turned to you with the keys in his clenched hand. He took your hand in his other one and you felt the moisture from it.

"I thought I should just let you see for yourself. I have a free room, and it's just me in the house. You can stop paying whatever you pay for your rent, and come live here for free." Niki was serious when he looked into your eyes. You looked back uncertainly.

"I don't want to leech..." You started, but he held out a palm and you trailed off.

"You are nothing of the sort. In fact, it is more like shoving a pill down a cat's throat and having to massage its throat to make it go down." Niki used the keys and opened the door, guiding you inside with his hand on your lower back. "You realize that most people have someone help them start out, yes? Parents who buy them a beat up car, that kind of thing. Something. It is nothing less than what you should have."

His eyes stayed locked on your face, tracking the confusion and shame fleeting through. You stayed silent for a while, and then whispered, "Why did you do it for me? I'm just James's assistant."

He frowned. "You are James's assistant. But there is nothing 'just' about you." He took your face in one hand, pinching your cheeks together, making your face ridiculous. "You know what to do with your life. Why wouldn't I invest?" He let his thumb rub your heated cheekbone.

"Say you accept."

Your eyelashes fluttered and you leaned into the calloused hand holding your cheeks. "You won't regret it? What if it amounts to nothing?"

"I won't. Even if you decide not to draw another piece of art ever again after the course is finished, I won't regret it."

You thought your heart beat stronger in your chest. You could almost feel the beats of it against your breastbone.

"I accept," you said in a whisper, looking into Niki's eyes.

He smiled.

-

You were living with him for a couple of months already. It was surprisingly easy to get used to each other's presence, to the rhythm of routines orbiting one another's. At first James made a whole spiel about fraternizing with the enemy, but after a while he had acquired the habit of dropping in at all times of day to 'check out the rat kingdom', as he put it.

The racing season was ending. Soon Niki would return to Vienna, you'd be forced to move out and find something else, and all will go back to how it was before. The thought of it often kept you up at night and showed itself in the dark circles under your eyes.

You took to sitting in the living room and watching Niki move around. He was making coffee on his day off, swirling the teaspoon to dissolve the sugar, when he spoke.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" you said softly.

"You've been more...sad, lately," he said, and stopped the swirling motion. The teaspoon clinked against the rim. "What is it about? And don't lie."

You exhaled.

"I keep thinking of when this ends," you said, your eyes lowering, unable to look at him. Niki was pragmatic, you knew that, and maybe the thought didn't bother him as much. It was a logical conclusion. He has already done more than anyone else ever did to help you.

Niki frowned and came closer. He continued to stand even when you shifted on the sofa.

"When this ends."

You nodded. "When you move to Vienna."

"What will change?" He looked perplexed.

You blinked, now unsure of the direction of the conversation which seemed so clear to you. "You'll go to Vienna. I'll have to move back to my country. This," you gestured over the room in a swoop, "this will stop."

Niki had a small smile on his face now. You frowned at the sight of it.

"You are unbelievable," a breathy chuckle escaped him, "Oblivious."

"What?"

Niki came closer, until he was standing right next to you, and tilted your head up.

"James told me it wasn't enough to move you in for you to get a clue," he said conversationally, but you could see his pupils expand and turn his brown eyes black. "I see now he was right." And then he leaned down until his nose touched yours. "It was obvious to the whole F1 what my feelings towards you were. Tell me, darling, are you going to Vienna with me?"

A small whine escaped you, eyes watering. "With you? Together?"

Niki's eyes turned mirthful. "Yes, sweet thing, together." He kissed you. "Like this," he murmured, looking at your lips, "If you haven't realized yet."

You finally smiled. "I want to."

"Good. James will have to find a new assistant, of course," Niki said, grinning, "And it's unlikely he'll find anyone quite as pretty as you. Another loss for McLaren, but they should be used to it by now."

You laughed. "Is this when you say you won a prize again?"