“You didn’t complain,” he replied, smiling.
We turned back toward the lights of the hotel, walking side by side. Not touching. Not yet. But no longer pretending.
38
BORROWED VOICE
Friday Evening - Hotel Bar
I foundSandra Baumgartner at a corner table in the hotel bar, nursing a glass of white wine and reviewing her notes from the day’s technical briefings. She looked up as I approached, eyebrow arched in that calculating way that made other journalists nervous.
“Pulaski,” she said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Professional favor,” I said, sitting down. “I need someone to interview Jonathan about handling the pressure of being F1’s first openly gay driver.”
Sandra’s expression sharpened with interest. “And you can’t do it yourself because…?”
“Because I’m sleeping with him, and everyone knows it.” I signaled the bartender for a beer. “Look, it’s an important story. How does someone handle accidentally becoming a pioneer? What’s it like carrying that weight while trying to race at the highest level? But I can’t be the one to ask those questions.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re thorough, you’re fair, and you don’t sensationalize.” I met her gaze directly. “And because Jonathan respects your work. He’ll give you real answers instead of media-trained deflection.”
Sandra sipped her wine, considering. “What’s in it for me?”
“Exclusive access to the most significant story in Formula 1 this season. The first in-depth look at what it means to be the sport’s first openly gay driver. Not the headlines, but the machinery behind them. The quiet negotiations with the team, the sponsor meetings, the way fans turn a driver into a symbol, all seen from inside Jonathan’s cockpit. Your byline on a feature that defines how this moment gets understood.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
“Professional distance. Proof that I can separate my personal relationships from my journalistic responsibilities.” I paused. “I want people to understand what he’s going through. But I can’t be the one to tell that story.”
Sandra nodded slowly. “Fair enough. When?”
“Tomorrow morning, if possible. Before the pressure of qualifying and race day gets too intense. I can arrange access through Elena, twenty minutes, no team handlers, just you and him.”
“I’ll do it,” she said. “But I interview him the way I interview anyone else. No softball questions just because he’s your boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Saturday Morning - Sandra’s Interview
Jonathan texted me at 8 AM:Just finished with Sandra. Tougher questions than I expected, but fair ones. She’s good at her job.
I spent the morning trying not to think about what he’d said, what insights Sandra had drawn out of him, how he’d handled questions I couldn’t ask. Instead, I focused on qualifyingcoverage, technical analysis, the kind of mechanical journalism that didn’t require emotional investment.
Jonathan qualified brilliantly, pole position by three hundredths of a second, his best lap coming in the final moments of Q3 when the pressure was highest. Watching him climb out of the car with his post-qualifying grin, I felt the familiar surge of pride mixed with professional awareness that I needed to channel that emotion into analytical coverage rather than celebration.
Saturday Evening - Reading Sandra’s Piece
Sandra filed her story that evening, sending it to both her editor at Sky Sport Germany and, after filing it, as a courtesy, to me. Jonathan came back to our hotel room after his media obligations, carrying takeout Thai food and looking more relaxed than he’d been all week.
“Want to read what you told Sandra?” I asked, pulling up her article on my laptop.
“God, yes. I have no idea what I said. The whole thing felt like a therapy session disguised as an interview.”
We settled on the bed with our food, laptop balanced between us, and read Sandra’s piece together:
“The Weight of Firsts: Jonathan Hirsch on Breaking Formula 1’s Last Barrier”By Sandra Baumgartner, Sky Sport Germany
