25. FORMULA 1
DUBAI, UAE
KARSON
We arrived in Dubai buzzing with excitement and wasted no time heading outside to find the McLaren that Archie had organized for us.
The gleaming orange supercar caught my eye immediately. Dyson and I turned toward each other, grinning wildly.
Dyson let out a long, low whistle.
“I’m driving,” I said, slapping him on the back.
“Fine, but you’re riding shotgun on the way back.” His gaze stayed fixed on the car.
The valet checked our IDs, opened the butterfly doors, then handed me the carbon-fiber key fob. “I’ll have your luggage sent to the hotel, gentlemen. Is there anything else you require?”
“Nope. You’ve been most helpful,” said Dyson, pressing a wad of cash into his palm.
“Thank you.” The valet closed his fist around the money and walked away with a broad smile.
“Let’s do this!” We hadn’t even left the airport, and already a current of energy pumped through my veins.
I slid into the driver’s seat while Dyson settled beside me. The powerful motor roared to life, with an explosion of laughter, we fist-bumped as he cranked up the music.
We sped down the highway toward Abu Dhabi, racing past towering buildings and clusters of date palms swaying in the breeze.
A smile spread across my face… It was fantastic being away from my father. For the first time in my life, I was in the driver’s seat, free to choose my own direction.
Dyson bobbed his head to the beat as I pushed the car faster, outrunning my problems for a little while. We tore along, feeling untouchable, until the hotel came into view.
A short time later, I pulled up out front and handed the keys to the valet. We checked into identical suites overlooking the racetrack, then headed downstairs to the hotel café.
“Let’s check out the Qasr Al Watan, the Presidential Palace. I’ve heard it’s incredible,” Dyson said while we waited for our coffee.
“I’m down with that.”
“Then we can have lunch at this cool restaurant I found online. It’s on the water and has great reviews.” He held his phone toward me, a picture of the palace glowing on the screen.
With a nod, the barista placed our coffees on the counter, and we headed out.
***
Dyson slid into the driver’s seat of the McLaren. Moments later we were tearing down the highway, the presidential palace glowed in the distance.
When we finally arrived, he killed the engine, the silence settled in around us.
Under the fierce sun, the white granite and limestone facade gleamed against the sky while groups of tourists streamed past. We crossed through the archway toward the palace, our eyes drawn upward as its sheer scale unfolded before us.
“Damn, this place is breathtaking.” I shook my head. “And it’s freaking enormous.”
“It’s a beauty all right,” Dyson said. “It’s over two million square feet. Apparently, they even do a laser show here on the weekends.”
“Too bad we’ll miss it. We could have picked up some tips for the gala laser show,” I said with a chuckle as we continued down the path toward the palace.
Pausing at the black entry doors, we admired the ornate gold handles before looking upward.
“These doors have got to be sixty feet high!” Dyson said, his mouth agape. “Get some pics.”
He spread his arms wide like an eagle as I snapped the photos.
Stepping inside, I took in the blend of culture, history, and luxury. Our gazes drifted slowly across the colorful mosaics, ornate chandeliers, and stained-glass windows.
Still snapping photos, we reached the center of a vast dome, and my mouth fell open as we stared up at the enormous crystal chandelier suspended above us.
“Apparently,” Dyson began, “they lined the dome with twenty-three-karat gold. And the chandelier’s made from three hundred and fifty thousand pieces of crystal and weighs twelve tons.”
Ivy would love this place—
“My mother would literally faint if she saw this.” Dyson chuckled. “You know how obsessed she is with chandeliers.”
I stared up at the elegant crystals a moment longer before following Dyson deeper into the palace.
***
The restaurant Dyson chose for lunch had a lively atmosphere.
The room was mostly filled with Emiratis wearing traditional white robes and head coverings, while a handful of tourists sat scattered among them.
The race dominated every conversation, and a few people asked us if we were going. We lingered there for a couple of hours, working our way through countless dishes of food I’d never tried before. Every plate was even more delicious than the last.
As I finished up the last sweet bite of baklava, a wave of jet lag hit me. “Let’s head back and chill before the race tomorrow.” I covered my mouth as a yawn escaped.
“Good idea.” Dyson rubbed his eyes. “I want to check out the hotel pool anyway.”
As I settled the bill, my eyes drifted to a nearby table where a group of tourists laughed together. One of the women smiled at me as our eyes gazes caught briefly. She resembled Ivy in height, complexion, and hair, my heart lurched.
After we got back, we changed into our swimsuits and headed for the rooftop, where the impossibly long infinity pool sat overlooking the racetrack below. Grabbing a pair of floating loungers, we slid into the water.
I closed my eyes as the gentle movement lulled me into a sleepy haze.
“Sorry it’s been such a shitty trip so far, Karson,” Dyson mumbled from his lounger.
I smirked and glanced over at him. One arm rested lazily behind his head, his eyes still shut.
Scooping up a handful of water, I splashed him. With a shriek, he lurched sideways off the lounger and crashed into the pool. I burst out laughing when his head reappeared above the surface with a crooked grin.
“Oh, man, you always do that!” he said darkly.
“And it’s just as good, every single time.”
“You better watch your back.” His eyes narrowed, though his smile widened. “I’ll get my revenge, right when you least expect it.”
Hauling himself back onto the float, he yawned as his phone pinged from inside the waterproof pouch tucked into the lounger’s side pocket.
“Read it, will you?” he said, tossing it toward me. “I’m trying to relax.”
Shaking my head, I caught the pouch and pulled out the phone. “Hell yeah, baby,” I said, throwing a fist in the air.
“What’s up?” he asked without opening his eyes. “Read it out.”
“‘Hey, guys, hope you’re enjoying the car. Tomorrow night’s afterparty is gonna be a cracker. Can’t wait to see you there.’”
Dyson’s eyes flashed open. “Thatta boy, Arch. He’s a true legend.”
***
The next morning, after a restless sleep, I ambled downstairs and met Dyson at the café, where we feasted at the breakfast buffet.
With time to kill before the race, we decided to head over to The Galleria on Al Maryah Island in the city for some luxury shopping.
As we walked through the Galleria’s sky-lit corridors, my eyes fixed on the latest Apple Watch.
I bought one for Gus. It’d be a challenge teaching him how to use it… but I knew he’d love it.
Dyson bought some sneakers—for his ever-growing collection—and then we demolished some lunch before deciding to call it a day.
Back at the hotel, we grabbed some ice-cold drinks and took them out onto Dyson’s balcony, cracking up as we talked about our recent adventures.
He talked me through the science behind BioBuild’s success, and it hit me again just how much work he’d invested in the project. Eventually, I called it and went to get ready for the race before heading downstairs.
Dyson was already waiting in the lobby, and as I approached, he proudly wiggled his foot at me, showing off one of his new sneakers.
“Nice. But did you really need a pair in every color?” He stared at me blankly. “Alright, if you’re done flexing your sneakers, let’s go.”
We climbed into the back of the limo, then the driver took us the short distance to the Yas Marina VIP entrance.
We stepped out to find an usher waiting and lines stretching out from the general access gates. Our usher led us straight to our seats, with a panoramic view of the start-finish straight.
“Now there’s a man who knows how to drive.” Dyson tipped his head subtly toward the familiar blond actor near the barrier and chuckled. “Remember when we watched Rush? ”
“Yeah,” I grinned. “Maybe he’ll jump behind the wheel of one of the cars today.”
The sun was setting, a golden light lit up the track, casting a radiant glow over the stadium as the pre-race grid walk began.
A few of the drivers came into view, headphones on as they got into the zone for the race.
When fan-favorite Diego Tierra walked out, a deafening roar rang out all around.
Archie followed behind Diego before a commentator stopped him and asked how he was feeling about the race.
Stooping over, he leaned into the microphone. “I’m very grateful to be here, you know?” He smiled humbly. “And I can’t wait to get out there.”
“Go, Archie!” Dyson yelled, but the excited shouts from the crowd drowned him out.
The drivers lined up on the grid, motionless, and the audience stood at attention as the United Arab Emirates national anthem blasted over the crowd.
A group of Etihad Airways flight attendants, smartly dressed in full uniform, stood across from the lineup.
Holding the outer edges of a huge UAE flag, they kept it stretched flat toward the sky. The Police Ceremonial Guard, in traditional white robes, flanked the flight attendants. All eyes turned skyward.
An Etihad jet, with six fighter planes beneath it, screamed overhead. All eyes tracked it as deafening applause erupted from the stadium.
Each of the planes left a trail of mist in the colors of the flag as the crowd exploded with delight. When the anthem came to an end the drivers left to suit up for the race.
“Dyson, this is next fucking level. Brother, I owe you. Payback starts now. I’m going to get you a cold drink and some fries before the race starts.” I chuckled, starting toward the kiosk.
“What? Your generosity is off the charts.” He laughed. “If you throw in some gum, we’ll call it even,” he called out.