𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 , charles leclerc

⇢ 10. priceless phones

TWO GHOSTS.
10. ❛ priceless phones. ❜

CHARLES LECLERC'S eyes fluttered open as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over his hotel room. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he relived the race in his mind. Feeling utterly exhausted, Charles let out a heavy sigh, attempting to process the emotions that had been bottled up inside him.

Before he let his mind wander too far, he finally became aware of the situation going on in his room. The first thing he heard was singing; it was some pop song, and if he was being honest, it was terrible.

Now, he was definitely awake. His eyes shot open, and he turned around to face the entrance to the sleeping quarters of his large hotel room.

His gaze fell upon a figure standing in front of a mirror, the girl combing through her hair with her fingers. Startled, he focused his bleary eyes to see a fan standing there, her excitement barely contained as she squealed in excitement, wearing one of his Ferrari team shirts and short, short jean shorts.

His heart beating fast, Charles scooted away from the wild fan, though not for long, as he eventually fell fully off the white bed he had been lying on. His lips twitched downward slightly, but his green eyes showed curiosity as he stood up almost instantly from the floor, stumbling as he backed away from the girl.

"Hey, Charles Leclerc!" The girl squealed as she turned to face the driver, her brown hair a slight mess and her makeup smudged. "I have been trying to get you up for hours, Charles Leclerc."

The girl's uncontainable enthusiasm perplexed Charles, who was still trying to gather his thoughts as he continued to wake up. Her voice was filled with admiration and joy, but Charles struggled to comprehend her words in his fatigued state. How she got into his room was beyond the man. "Can you stop calling me Charles Leclerc? You're not even pronouncing it right."

The girl was so excited she started to jump up and down, her voice going higher with every word she let out, "You're up, you're up, you're up, you're up!" As the girl continued to squeal animatedly, her excitement got the better of her, and she hadn't noticed that she was jumping on something.

"Hey! Will you—" Charles' heart sank as he saw his old phone, one he didn't use anymore but still carried, getting crushed beneath her feet. In an instant, panic washed over him. His phone held valuable memories and sentimental importance, and it was nearly in ruins. Without hesitation, he hurried around the bed and darted towards the damaged phone. "That's my cell phone!"

"Oh, that's a cell phone?" The girl scrunched up her eyebrows and stared at the old, cracked, shitty phone.

"S'il te plaît vient. (Please, come on.)" Charles whispered under his breath as he tried to turn on the phone to check if it was working. "No, it's broken. You broke it."

"Oh, it's so hot when you speak French." The girl sighed contently. Meanwhile, Charles immediately pulled on a pair of jeans and ran out of the room.

"Oh, hold on! Wait!" The girl chased after Charles through his hotel room as he grabbed his wallet and current phone. "Where are you going, Charles Leclerc?!"

As he sprinted down the hall of the hotel rooms, he buttoned his jeans and tried his best to escape the fan. He turned a corner and immediately ran into an open elevator; the girl, unable to make it, just smiled.

"Okay, well, call me!"

When the doors opened to the lobby, Charles immediately ran out, passing some of his teammates and coworkers, who all watched him, clearly confused as to why he was running barefoot and frantic. He didn't care about the stares he was getting in the luxurious hotel and rushed to the receptionist, skipping the line.

"Can you please tell me, uh, where's the nearest cell phone store?" Charles asked out of breath before he repeated his question, but this time in Spanish, "¿Uh, dónde está la tienda de celulares más cercana? Por favor."

The woman looked the man up and down and tried to form a sentence through her blushing face. The woman nodded her head, "Es... Señor Leclerc," The girl bit her lip and tried to recollect her thoughts, "I'd be delighted to assist you." She then sucked in a deep breath and used her hand to gesture to where the store was. "It's near a car dealership. I'd be happy to call you a car."

Charles grew frustrated; every minute that passed without it functioning ate away at him, "Will you just tell me how far, which direction, how many blocks?"

"Take a right on Royal, and it's six blocks down on your left—"

Before the woman could even complete her sentence, Charles was already running, "Okay, uh, grazie— shit, t-that's Italian, uh gracias!" He darted out of the hotel, chased by a flock of fans screaming his name and asking for pictures and autographs.

People on the sidewalks stared and watched as the Formula One driver ran down the streets barefooted, his hair a mess and his shirt inside out. Finally spotting the store, Charles let out a sigh of relief and immediately hurried inside, shutting and locking the door behind him to block the fans.

Panting and drenched in sweat, Charles held up his smashed vintage phone, "Le daré €10,000 a cualquiera si puede arreglar mi teléfono. (I'll give anyone €10,000 if they can fix my phone.) Ten thousand, please."

Several customers and workers gasped and took pictures as they started to recognize the desperate man. "¡Dios mío! (Oh my god!)" One female worker sighed as she approached the man.

"¿Hola, Señor Leclerc; 10,000, te importa si...? (Hello, Mr. Leclerc; 10,000, do you mind if I...?)" Another worker, this time a man, came to examine the phone.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Charles tried to catch his breath as he held out the phone, the two workers looking down at the old thing.

The female smiled flirtatiously as she looked from the phone then to the man and spoke in broken English, "Well, p-perhaps we could interest you in a newer model?"

"I don't— I don't want a new model, okay? I want that phone." Charles pleaded and tried to keep collected and calm, especially since it was way too early to be up at that time, in his opinion.

"Allow me to assist you, Señor Leclerc." Seemingly the worker in charge, an elderly man, appeared from the back and offered a comforting smile. He seemed to be the only one acting normal in the presence of the famous driver. "Yeah, on the house; I'm the store manager."

"Okay, thank you." The man offered his hand, and Charles had never been so relieved to shake a stranger's hand than he was at that moment.

The female worker who held Charles' phone just continued to gawk at him as the manager tried to get the girl's attention, "María? María?!"

"Hmm?" The girl hummed and still looked lovingly at Charles, who passed an awkward smile and combed his fingers through his hair to try and fix it.

"María, suelta el dispositivo, por favor. (María, release the device, please.)" The manager managed to get the phone out of the starstruck girl's hands and turned back to Charles, "Why don't you step into my office? We'll have a little more privacy."

"Thank you so much." Charles immediately pushed through the little crowd of people and walked with the manager to the office in the back, thankfully accepting an offered water.