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“Sign with McLaren.”
GP startles, having not heard Max enter the small room he was using as an office. “What?’
“Sign the McLaren contract. It is the best of the offers.”
He can only blink up at him. “Max, sit down.”
For once, Max obeys.
“I think you should sign with McLaren.” He says for the third time.
“We've talked about this-”
“Yes and I have thought about it in great detail and I think it is what would be the best move for you. I know we have had our problems with McLaren in the past but you do not want to be stuck at a backmarker. It is not that I do not think you can build but you would not enjoy that so I think you should sign with McLaren.”
GP waits, watching Max. Watching Max who's eyes keep darting around the room. “We've been over this,” he repeats, “I'm not leaving you.”
Max is fidgety, finally losing to his own body, he stands to pace the small confines of the room. “I do not- I cant-”
GP knows. Of course he knows. He knew the moment Max had opened his mouth. But he still needed Max to say it. “Yes?”
“ImleavingRedBull.” He says it in one breath. Like the words were hard to get out. They probably were. They were probably words he had never thought he'd say.
“Are you moving teams?” He doesn't think so, but he doesn't want to assume. They had of course talked about all of the options. In detail. But Max was processing right now and it was GPs job to subtly walk him through it.
“Of course not, I could not do that.”
“And you think I can?” He could. GP wasn't like Max. His loyalty had never been to Red Bull.
“I think you are stronger than me.”
That catches him off guard, “Pardon?”
“You can leave Red Bull. You can keep pushing. I- I cannot.”
“Any team would be thrilled to have you. We could find a place to move together.” And Max was almost there. He had almost pushed the right buttons to get him to actually say it out loud.
“I am retiring.” There it was.
“It's been decided then?”
“The car is bad.”
That's not an answer. “I know.”
“These regulations are even worse.’
“I know.”
“It is not .. it is not any fun anymore.”
“I know, Max. I'm not disagreeing with your decision, just asking how final it is.” Up until now it had seemed unsure, seeming just an intrusive thought Max couldn't shake. But they looked things over just in case. Looked at Max's offers. Looked at GP’s. See where things landed. But it hasn't been serious. Not really. Or maybe it had been. What did it matter? Max seemed fairly serious now.
“I am leaving at the end of this season. Raymond is working on the paperwork right now.”
“And Laurent?”
There was a slight shift of discomfort. “Suspects. I have not hidden my feelings from him.”
No. But it will still be a blindside. Just by nature. Laurent had been so sure he could goad Max into staying. GP had had his doubts.
“The end of the season?”
“It will make things easier for your move to another team. Gardening and all.”
“Max,” he tries not to sigh, he doesn't want Max to think he's disappointed in him. He could never be disappointed in him. “You don't have to worry about me. I can work out my own contracts.”
“Yes, but this makes sense, no?”
“Retirement.” GP shakes his head, “Shouldn't I be the one retiring before you?”
“It was always going to happen this way. F1 does not want me here. It never has. This is for the best.”
And GP wants to yell and scream and shake him and tell him it's not true. That Max is loved. That Max is wanted. And that was true for Red Bull, but for everyone else…
“You should warn Hannah.” The last of them. The final three from the golden days.
“I will. But I wanted to speak with you first.” A beat. “Will you sign with McLaren?’
Because if GP says no, if GP says he's staying with Red Bull, Max will too. Miserable and aching, he'd stay too. So GP can't. Not that he really wants to. Not without Max. And yet- “I'm not sure if they're the right fit for me.”
“They are.”
“In the past-”
“But you could change things. As team principal. You could fix it.”
Fix it. Like it was a minor flaw in the front wing and not an entire Formula 1 team.
“I couldn't fix Red Bull.” He says it matter of fact, but tries to be gentle. He knows how hard this has been for him.
Max lets out a breath, finally sinking back into the seat across from GP. “No one can fix Red Bull. At least not the Red Bull it was. It is only us left and-” he drops his head, “and I no longer think that is enough.”
GP hums. Max is right. All that is left of Red Bull is the heart. Each piece chipped away one by one until it's a raw bleeding heart trying to pump to an organism that died long ago. Running on pure adrenaline and love. But when that dies? When the adrenaline runs dry and the love is hanging by a thread?
“I'll review the McLaren contract.” He promises.
“You will sign it?”
“After you sign yours.”
Max squints at him. They're at a stalemate. Max doesn't want to leave without the promise that GP will leave too, and GP will not leave without knowing for certain that Max is done. “Do you promise?”
“I haven't lied to you before and I'm not going to start now. I said I would never race engineer for another driver and I meant it. And there's nothing left for me here.”
Another pause. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He repeats.
Max relaxes a fraction. “I did not think it would end like this.”
“There are worse ways to go out.”
“But we still have this season, yes? The car is no good but maybe…”
“I still think we can squeeze a podium out of it.”
“Yeah?”
It's the first time Max hasn't shot that sentiment down. GP feels ever so slightly lighter. “It may require sabotage, but I think we can find a way to swing it.”
Max laughs. It's a beautiful sound.
“We will be okay.” It's a statement not a question. A reassurance to himself and GP.
“It won't change anything between us if that's what you're worried about. If anything it will improve our relationship. You won't have to listen to me anymore.”
Max grins, “Perhaps when you are done with F1 you can come work for Verstappen Racing. Then you would have to listen to me.”
“Nah mate you already think you're my boss. I don't know if I could handle it for real.” It's a joke and Max's eyes crinkle, looking brighter than they have in weeks. “We will of course work something out.”
“I have no doubt of that, mate.’
“It is Red Bull we are leaving behind.” Again max sounds like he's speaking more to himself than GP. “Not each other, right?”
“Of course. I've never cared much for Red Bull, Max. I've stuck around for you.”
There's a shy smile at the honesty. “Okay then. We leave Red Bull. Together.”
“We leave, but it's not Red Bull. Not really. Not your Red Bull. You know that right?”
Max gives a sad smile. “My Red Bull has been gone a long time.”
It was sad but true.
It wouldn't be easy. Not for either of them after so long a time. But it would be good. It would be healing. And it was best. For Max at least, and that meant it was best for GP too.