Chapter Text
DOH – Hamad International Airport, 05h55 local time
George was sipping his coffee and revising his flight plan at the crew area while waiting for the mechanics to do maintenance and security checks on the British Airways Boeing 777 jet he was going to check himself soon. He was concentrating when his phone made the desk vibrate.
Bernd Willems
6 notifications
It had been a while since he had texted Bernd, which was a shame, because he loved that guy. Bernd and he formed the whimsical flight crew “The Willems” when he worked for KLM as a first officer – his full name is George William Russell. He is a very experienced Dutch pilot in his fifties from whom George has learned most of what he knows of the great responsibility of flying an aircraft. He smiled fondly at the name and readily opened the messages.
Hey, kiddo
Don't you forget about updating the old man here on your life, will ya?
How are you? Happy at the Posh Airways? hahahaha jk
I mean, I might have something good for you
Those things you told me, schedule, work-life balance and all… imo it's a great opportunity
Can I give you more details?
George's eyes widened a little bit reading the last two messages, surprised in a good way. His former crewmate was sensible, so if he judged that as a great opportunity, chances were it really was. He had talked to Bernd about feeling exhausted with the schedule of a major airline and that was one of the reasons he accepted the job as Captain at the British Airways: hoping the change in position would help balance his routine without giving up on aviation. He loved being able to put those tons of metal and hundreds of people in the air and quickly answered.
hey, lad
of course, shoot me
I will give you a call
“Hey, boy” said the voice on the other side as soon as George picked up the phone.
"Heeeey” he answered cheerfully. "Long time, no see, mate! We should grab a coffee sometime”
“Hopefully you're gonna have much more time for a coffee next time I get to you”
“Let's see…” he exhaled, tired. “What do you have for me?”
“So, a friend of mine, a pilot, came to me looking for a captain for private aviation. The client he's helping to find the right guy is very wealthy and recently acquired a Falcon 8X.” Bernd heard a whistle of appreciation.
“Ok, nice jet… but nothing out of the ordinary, at least until now.” he replied, nonchalantly.
“Here's the trick of the trade: the person, who cannot be revealed yet, needs the pilot to be exclusively working for him, totally available from March up to early December… and the person travels constantly.”
“Oh…” George emitted, half-heartedly worried. It actually didn't sound that bad for him.
“But of course, all this sacrifice is well rewarded…” Bernd giggled. “Figures are substantially high and between flights you are free to enjoy the city with everything paid: luxury hotels and a nice per diem for you to spend in fancy restaurants” he finished proudly.
“Now that’s more like it.”
“I think it's everything a young man like you would want” the older one said melodically with his deep, raspy voice. “For me, I want to be in my own space.”
“Yes, of course. Would you mind sending them my CV?” George sounded a bit more interested.
“Already did, they think you're perfect for the opportunity and so do I.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. Next steps?” He was caught off guard.
“Attend the meeting I scheduled with them for you at the LTN at 5h30 p.m. London time today” he could hear his mischievous smile through the phone.
“You what?” the Brit almost spilled his coffee. “Bernd, what if I said no?”
“I know you, kid. You wouldn't.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“By the places and the period of the contract, I'm guessing it's someone Formula 1 related…” he elongated the end of the sentence, as he had a name in mind but thought it would be too risky to bet upon. “Anyways, my friend Joris and the client are excited to meet you”
“Oh, for God's sake, Bernd” he said resting his hand on his forehead.
“I know you certainly will, but just to make sure: live up to all the recommendations I made about you, okay? The best of luck, kid” Bernd hung up.
The blue-eyed man faced the black screen of his phone and saw the purple-ish dark circles below his eyes. He got up to check the Boeing 777 jet before the passengers boarded, to unwind and focus on his duty. He knew he would have the whole flight to overthink about it.
LTN – London Luton Airport, 17h25 local time
George was being escorted by one of the concierges of the airport to the private lounge where Joris and the client were expecting him. Despite wearing his British Airways uniform, he had gone home for a quick shower, styled his hair, checked and adjusted it a hundred times on his mirror while rehearsing answers for some questions that may pop out, and used his favorite cologne. The outfit choice to maintain the airline's apparel was to look more professional and, although he would never say it out loud, he thought he looked drop-dead handsome in formal clothing.
Walking at a fast pace through a discreet corridor, they reached a well-designed room, covered with wooden details and furnishing, luxurious warm-toned leather armchairs, sofas and bright yet cozy lighting. Both men who were sitting on the sofa got up when the concierge let him by the open door. One of them was tall, lean and also was wearing a pilot uniform, just like George. However, he was older, partially bald with some white hair left. The other was blonde with blue eyes and had the physique of someone who obviously was an athlete: strong and defined but not big, exaggerated. He was wearing jeans and a light blue shirt.
“Captain George Russell” the older one extended a hand.
“Captain Joris, pleased to meet someone with your experience” he shook his hand firmly and then looked at the other man. His face looked familiar…
“Please meet Max Verstappen, the owner of the brand new Dassault Falcon 8X” he put a hand on the Dutch man’s shoulder, while it was his turn to greet him. His eyes looked directly into George's.
Oh, of course. The young pilot didn't know much about him, but the guy was famous enough for him to at least recognize who he was: a Formula 1 racing driver that had won some championships.
“Thanks for accepting this meeting on short notice” the blonde said while all of them sat back on the sofa, the driver getting the RedBull can he had left at the coffee table. George sat on a sofa across from them.
Max was fighting not to stare at the young pilot. His looks were so addictive he couldn't look away from him as they started their conversation about amenities such as the weather conditions and how the Falcon 8X was peak technology.
“Okay” Captain Joris sighed “I think it's time we talk about business. Mr. Verstappen needs someone available and yet very competent in flying and taking care of his aircraft. You had the highest of recommendations made by Bernd, and I trust that man with my life”
“That is much appreciated, Captain Joris. Bernd was generous to teach me his knowledge in aviation, I'm grateful for having him as my mentor.”
“Besides that, I will admit that your experience made my eyes light up. Quite a curriculum, especially for someone only 28 years old.”
Both pilots started discussing maneuvers, airports and runways. While Max tried to convey anything familiar from the conversation, he collected in his mind the details of George. How his golden brown hair fell lightly over his forehead and blue eyes. His feet were quite big, but it makes sense with how tall he is. The Dutch didn't know why, but his hands particularly got his attention, long and graceful fingers. Even his hands were elegant.
“Max…?” Joris called him.
“Hmm?” he woke up from his daydreaming, lifting both of his brows.
“Unfortunately, I'll have to leave you, I have a flight to prepare right here at Luton. However, my verdict is: you have my endorsement" he winked towards George. “Goodbye, gentleman!”
“Thank you, Captain Joris. It means a lot.”
“Thank you, Joris” Max followed the acknowledgement. “We might have the right guy here”
Might? George thought. An awkward silence settled and he was already getting up when the blonde's voice interrupted.
“Wait! Ah, I need to talk to you… just you and me.”
“Right…” he sat back, doubt in his voice.
“As you might have guessed by now, I'm a public person” he paused, hoping to not have to explain, because it would be really embarrassing. “Besides all your technical qualifications, I must know if you are reliable. If I can trust you.”
“Mr. Verstappen–”
“Max! Just Max…” he tugged a non-existent strand of hair behind his right ear.
“Well… Max.” George highlighted his name, smiling at him. “I take my passion and responsibility for aviation very seriously, I wouldn't want to risk my career over trivial money, for disclosing any information of yours.”
“Good. You really don't seem to be the type of person for that” he got up and took some steps towards a counter right next to the sofas, with anything you might want of beverages. “But my team will probably check your background on that too anyways, so don't find it awkward if one or two of the people you know get calls”
“I guessed there would be something like that.”
“Do you want me to fix anything for you?” he said, taking a glass in his hands and filling it with ice.
“Oh, don't worry” George got up a little embarrassed and headed to the counter, next to him. He wanted some coffee, but didn't want his soon-to-be-boss serving him just on the first day they met.
“No, really! What do you want?”
“An espresso is fine”
Max left his glass at the counter and grabbed a cup to put it under the coffee machine, selecting the option for “espresso”. While the machine did its job, he got a bottle of gin and filled the bottom of his glass. Then, completed it with tonic while the Brit watched his movements carefully. The coffee machine bipped, indicating the coffee was ready and Max got it, holding from the bottom and handed it to George. Their fingers brushed and they both faced each other, leaning on the counter on their sides.
“For me… it's you.” he paused, looking directly into the pilot's eyes. “I wouldn't even consider sending anyone else for background checking”
George gave a restrained smile, turning his gaze to his coffee.
“I’ll make sure that confidence is well placed, Mr. Verst–” he stopped himself. The driver closed his eyes a bit longer and made a silly smile. “Max… I'll get used to it!”
“So, I need your contact info for my team to move forward with the formalities, contract, all that stuff” His palms were sweating. "Phone number, email…”
George told him and the Dutch started typing.
“Captain George…?” he inquired about a surname.
“Russell. Captain George Russell”
“Do I actually need to call you Captain?” he frowned his brows and smiled in a light-hearted way.
“Not unless you fancy the ceremony.” George was a bit surprised and smiled back. “But no, there's no need to, if you don't want to. It's a formality in aviation to identify who has the final responsibility for flight and safety.”
“Cheers” Max rose up his gin tonic to make a clink on the pilot's coffee.
“Cheers” the Brit laughed at making a toast with coffee and gin tonic altogether.