Chapter 3: Men's undershirt

Hunt rubbed his nose. "I seem to be too low-key?"
As he walked up the steps, he happened to meet Donald, a well-known racer from Sauber.
This guy got the third place in the last race. It was just when the spring breeze was so proud that even the beautiful women around him were stunners. The two stood at the door and kissed stickily, before Donald slowly passed the key out.
The waiter was about to pick up the key, but Donald threw it in Hunter's direction.
Hunt leaned back in his pocket and the key landed right in front of his toes.
"Hello!" Donald raised an eyebrow at Hunter, and the subtext was "How can you not even get the car keys?"
Hunter still looked at him with his pockets in his pockets, and then he took out the invitation, and handed it to the security guard at the door.
At this moment, the waiter quickly said sorry to Hunter and picked up the car keys.
Hunter looked at himself, and then at the waitresses, even though they were all wearing suits ... are they not similar to them?
"It's temperament."
Teammate ... Ah, it should be said that the enemy McGrady passed by him, incidentally laughing at it.
Hunter touched the back of his head and was puzzled. What exactly was his temperament similar to the waiter?
The dinner was staggered, and many well-known media personalities were among them. The team manager and well-known drivers have become the center of the circle, of course ... not including his idler.
Fortunately, the snacks at the dinner were delicious.
Hunter enjoys this time of being undisturbed, not being noticed, and eating whatever he wants.
Even if you put the cream on your face, you don't need to be busy with reporters and colleagues like those well-known drivers ... Life is short, why spend the time you enjoy on entertainment?
After eating a snack, Hunter moved to the other side with satisfaction. At this time a waiter handed the tray to his hand: "I'm sorry, the foreman called me something, please do it for me! Thank you!"
Hunter opened his eyes wide and looked at the other figure's departure, then looked at the tray in his hand.
Coincidentally, Tracy McGrady also saw this scene, and placed the empty wine glass in his hand directly on Hunter's tray.
"Trouble you, waiter."
Having said that, by the way, a tip of one dollar was pressed on it.
Hunter squinted his eyes. It seems that McGrady still hates Duchuny because he failed to block Duchenny in the last race!
Wait, maybe not because of the game, but because of the water grenade in the bathroom?
Thinking of this, Hunter took the dollar down with a smile, put it in his pocket, squinted at McGrady and smiled, and said to him with his mouth: thank you.
Tracy McGrady's expression turned out to be angry but had to hold back.
Hunt felt instantly relieved.
At this time, because of someone's arrival, the banqueting person seemed to be under any traction and looked in a certain direction.
Hunter also followed his eyes, being the manager of the Ferrari team, and Vann Winston who was walking behind him, but could hardly conceal his presence.
Today, he wears a black dress with almost no style at all in pure black, but the simpler the style, the more he sketches the smooth lines of his waist and shoulders, implying a sense of male power.
And those long legs, every step taken, makes the viewer feel enjoyment.
Who is at the center of this charity dinner is self-evident.
But no matter who it was, Winston at least politely and politely communicated with each other, but never showed a smile.
Even if the chairman of this dinner stepped forward to shake hands with him, he just nodded.
"Did this guy inject a botox that caused stiffness in his facial muscles so he couldn't laugh?" Hunt stroked his chin.
But despite his indifference, no one felt his arrogance. They were like moths fighting fire, knowing that Vann Winston would always have only one expression, and still surrounded him tirelessly.
At this time, someone put the empty wine glass in the tray beside him, and then hinted with his eyes: Why are you still lazy?
Hunt poked his lips, thinking of eating another piece of cake, and he left.
Just as he was looking for food to leave this position, his gaze intently passed Winston's direction, and then he found that although Winston's hand-held wine glass seemed to listen quietly to the chairman, his gaze crossed his opponent's shoulder, The gap between the guests fell on Hunter.
This kind of sight is not emotional. Hunter thinks that the other party is just bored because the chairman said too long, and finds another focus for himself, but he soon finds that it doesn't seem to be just that ...
From his eyes to the tip of his nose, he slowly descended, sinking into the neckline, getting deeper and deeper ...
Henry made a special look.
It should be that the air in the banquet room contains alcohol, and he is not used to it.
He tilted his head and hooked his bow tie with his fingers.
After just that moment, he felt like his neck was going to be burned. Subconsciously he looked in the direction of Winston.
Ah ... blocked by someone ...
It really is an illusion.
Hunter walked to the other side and saw the mini lemon pie.
"Great, I'll eat you."
The moment he lifted his eyes, he inadvertently touched Winston's sight again, and a force came in retrogradely, crashing into his body fiercely, all the foreign objects that could conceal him as his, at that moment All were torn and peeled.
The body was inexplicably hot, and the blood was flowing down.
Hunt wanted to look away, but at this time it felt like he was in the traction of the other side and could not turn.
"Now the auction for this charity dinner is about to begin!"
Everyone's eyes were looking at the auction display, including Winston.
Hunter could finally breathe out.
It should be an illusion just now ... I have met face to face with Winston a total of two times.
Once in the bathroom and once in the supermarket, the other party doesn't need to look at himself with this kind of look at the enemy!
After the host said a lot of nonsense, finally got to the topic.
"All the auction proceeds from this auction will be handed over to the Ferrari Charity Fund for the rescue of children with leukemia! Let's look at the first auction item-the nickname Great White Shark, which is also an individual for two consecutive F1 Grand Prix The glove used by the first-ranked car king Shire in the last station! "
There was a warm applause.
"The starting price is $ 5,000!"
Hunt laughed and ate lemon pie.
Starting price of five thousand dollars, I don't know if it is a modern famous painting!
Heck, it seems that he should really tighten himself up according to what Mr. Marcus said, and when he becomes famous, even if the gloves he used could not be sold for five thousand dollars, five hundred dollars would still be available?
At that time he will exchange a pair for each race!
In the end, Great White Shark's gloves sold for $ 20,000.
Hunt could not help but sigh: F1 is indeed the most expensive sports in the world, there is no one.
"Next is the second sale-the t-shirt that Ferrari's Vann Winston once wore during the race!"
There was a thrill of excitement around Hunt.
"The starting price is also $ 5,000!"
Before the host's introduction is finished, the bidding can't wait to start.
"Six thousand dollars!"
"Seven thousand!"
"Eight thousand!"
...
Hunt nodded while listening to the sound of the bidding around him, his face was puzzled.
A white t-shirt, why is there such a value space after being passed by Winston?
In the end, the price soared to $ 50,000.
Hunter found the lemon pie uncomfortable, and he had to find some water to drink.
As soon as she turned around, she saw a young girl with tears in her eyes, and her father was comforting her.
"Don't be sad, dear. I'm familiar with the strategists of the Ferrari team. When the banquet is over, I'll ask him to ask Winston for another t-shirt, will you?"
But the girl couldn't help crying.
To be honest, Hunter is somewhat skeptical. How many of these female fans in the auction really know F1?
"My dear, believe me?" The father wanted to wipe his daughter's tears, but the daughter didn't go overboard.
Hunt sympathized a little, so he adjusted his neckline and came to the girl.
"Hey, do you like Vann Winston?"
"..." The girl was surprised by Hunt's appearance, but nodded, "Yes."
"Then you know that after a Formula 1 race, the energy consumption of a racer is comparable to a marathon?"
The girl nodded, still wondering why Hunter said all of a sudden.
"So, in one race, the driver can lose about three liters of moisture. This moisture is absorbed by that white t-shirt ... it is a real undershirt, I guess it exudes a strong Winston-like taste ... ... I don't know if it's pungent? "Hunt shrugged his shoulders and kept looking at the girl.
"You ... Are you sick!" The girl was anxious and turned to leave.
Hunt touched his nose and whispered to himself: "Am I sick? It's normal than some people who spend $ 50,000 on men's undershirts."
"I don't have any taste. I don't know if you will be disappointed."
Just as the icy sound of a silver cup gently bumping in the empty room sounded behind him, Hunter's spine was stiff, and even after hearing a few words from the other party, he could tell that it was Winston's voice.
He ... when did he come?
Shouldn't this guy chat with those chairmen or advertising sponsors?