CHAPTER 9
Anna
Anna clutched the umbrella with both hands, her arms shaking slightly with the effort to keep it steady.
The Indonesia sky had become ominous, grayer than the forecasted sunshine had indicated.
She tore her gaze from the worrisome sight and stood to the side, smiling for all she was worth.
The roaming TV cameras weren’t for her, and she didn’t change her gaze for them.
She didn’t interrupt Isaac or attempt to speak to him while he was in race mode.
Several riders on the starting grid had similar pre-race routines, while a couple of others talked and joked with people around them.
Four separate camera crews wandered between the riders, perhaps looking for someone to interview as they conducted their pre-race shows. Celebrities with special passes moved through the crowd, often stopping to chat with each other. She spotted Keanu Reeves in a ball cap and sunglasses.
Vince ignored all reporters, and none of them tried speaking to Isaac, at least not that he noticed.
Twice she shook her head and signaled that they should move on rather than disturb him.
They had better luck at the back of the grid with some of the newer riders.
As the clock wound down, the cameras moved off to the side and out of the way.
When there was one minute left on the timer, everyone except the riders left the grid.
Visors came down, and the riders got ready for their warm-up lap. Even as she left, her focus remained on Isaac. How would he do today?
This week, he’d qualified seventh and now sat on the third row.
Yesterday after the fast-paced qualifying session, as soon as he’d finished debriefing with Angel, he’d hauled her back to his trailer.
They’d had sex. Not the patient, slow kind they’d had until now, but fast and urgent.
It had left her trembling with aftershocks from the intense orgasms. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.
Qualifying had lit a fire within him. Her stomach fluttered. Would the race do the same?
Those that had cleared the grid joined the rest of the team in the box, huddling around the largest screen to watch the race.
Anna sucked in her breath when the riders returned to the grid after their single lap, everyone tense and focused.
This was it. Miguel squeezed her forearm, anticipating the start. She shot him a nervous smile.
The green and red flags waved, then left the track.
As a collective group, the team held their breath, leaving the garage silent and filled with pent-up nervous energy.
Nobody wanted to miss this. Starting lights showed at the top of the screen, then blinked out, and the riders shot forward.
She didn’t care about the other riders. She concentrated on following Isaac’s movement, tracking how his bike leaped ahead of the others on his row.
Vince got the holeshot, which she’d learned meant going around the first corner in the lead, but more importantly, Isaac had gotten a clean start, shooting up the inside of the track.
He slotted into third as the initial positions settled into the race and the riders flowed through the first half of the lap, while the crowd cheered.
Anna couldn’t take her eyes off the TV. Conversation and movement resumed around her, though everyone watched while they worked.
Those responsible for Isaac’s pit board communication checked their headsets, got the portable sign ready, and headed for the wall, ready to keep him updated about his track position.
Isaac had mentioned that it was easy to lose track of how many laps remained and how many riders had passed—the pit board helped.
Several of the more experienced crew kept tabs on the weather and the circling dark clouds.
“Get the second bike ready with rain tires,” said Angel in Spanish. He looked at Anna when her head swiveled with a jolt, on slight delay as she translated. “Just in case, mi carino. Don’t worry, our Isaac is tremendous in rainy conditions.” His tone was reassuring.
In the background, the noise of the power tools whined as the crew jumped to follow Angel’s directions.
She’d been told about Isaac and the rain before by Catarina, so she sent a quick text to her in the garage next door. “Rain makes it even more dangerous, doesn’t it?” Her lip trembled as she sent her message.
“Isaac is good at this. Trust him. He’s killing it out there, btw.” Catarina’s text eased Anna’s tension a little. He had experience and was a world-class racer. His team was full of experts. A little rain wouldn’t be a problem. Probably.
Lap after lap, the riders circled the track.
Swapping positions and making daring passes left Anna breathless with fear and excitement.
She loved knowing who the other riders were, not that she could identify them all with their helmets off, but she’d learned the teams, their names, and their numbers.
Vince had run away with the race, and so far, the rain had held off, though the wind had picked up and the air temperature dropped.
Now that she was off the grid, she wore a blue team jacket with Isaac’s name on the back. Still, she shivered.
With three laps left, Isaac remained in third. Anna glanced at the menacing clouds as drops of rain appeared in pit lane and spotted the camera lens tracking the riders on the course. She clutched her pencil so tightly it hurt her hand, hoping for no more rain.
Several riders behind Isaac slowed their pace, widening the gap between the front three and everyone else.
Sections of the track darkened as the rain intensified.
White and red flags waved on the course, which Marcus Birch, the British commentator whose feed matched the screen, declared rain flags. But the riders continued.
“What does this mean?” She turned to the surrounding team, hoping someone would explain.
Before they got a chance, a KTM rider mid-pack suddenly swerved on the wet track, bouncing out of his seat as his bike skidded sideways and then cartwheeled across the ground, spraying chunks of metal and plastic left and right.
The luckless rider flew through the air, landing hard on his shoulder, but somehow missed being hit by his careening bike.
She gasped involuntarily as the rider lay crumpled on the ground for several seconds.
Two additional bikes detoured off the track to avoid the accident.
“It’s a flag-to-flag,” said Miguel, answering her question, his attention still on the fallen rider who pushed himself to his feet as race marshals in their bright orange vests sped toward him.
Miguel’s explanation didn’t help. She still had a lot to learn about racing.
The image on the screen flashed back to Vince at the front, his head tucked in, still lapping faster than everyone else, throwing his bike through the corners with abandon.
A man possessed to finish before the rain descended in earnest. The camera panned back to the group of riders jostling for fourth through eighth.
Where was Isaac? Her chest tightened, though it still listed his name in third at the side of the screen while the fallen riders’ names slid down the order, disappearing off the bottom of the list. He must be safe.
“I don’t know what flag-to-flag means,” Anna said, still not taking her eyes from the screen, her shoulders tight. Why hadn’t they shown Isaac, so she’d know that he was safe?
“The riders can come in and swap bikes. This close to the end of the race, some will gamble on staying out on track unless the rain becomes harder. Others will risk making up time on wet tires by changing. It’s about track position and the weather.
Everyone will judge it differently.” She hadn’t seen Angel approach, and he patted her on the shoulder.
A Ducati in fourth lost traction with his rear wheel as he rode off-line. He skidded across the track as his bike slipped, sliding into the gravel, spraying it everywhere.
Two laps remained.
The three front-runners, including Isaac, all stayed out on track in the rain.
She breathed a sigh of relief when they showed him—still upright and on track.
The lap times had slowed, but they were still out there.
Just after they passed the entrance to pit lane, the rain picked up, and the wind blew in gusts.
Several other riders came into the pit from mid-pack.
The final group and stragglers came in, too.
The riders hopped off one bike, jumped onto their waiting, second bikes, and they putted back toward the track in a slow-moving group, being careful not to exceed pit lane speed limits.
Vince, Spencer, and Isaac were more than halfway around their penultimate lap when the heavens opened. Cascades of white water streamed down in sheets, water pooled on the track, and the soggy riders slowed to a crawl. It was a miracle anyone could ride in these conditions.
All riders had changed bikes, except the three leaders.
“I can’t believe those three are still on slicks,” said Angel in Spanish.
“Slicks?” Anna felt tears gathering. Everyone in the room radiated stress that she couldn’t ignore as it seeped into her already tense muscles.
“Slick tires. Smooth,” said Angel. “Rain tires are bumpy, grooved. Look how much faster those riders can go.” His calm tone kept her tears from falling as she watched the screen. The riders on rain tires rode much faster than the leaders on their slicks, water spraying up from their tires.
They watched as Vince, Spencer, and Isaac slowed still more, maneuvering their bikes gingerly through corners as the rain bounced upward off the track, pelting the riders from above and below.
They no longer appeared concerned with taking the best line.
It was just about staying vertical. Water sprayed around them, ruining their visibility for the cameras and for themselves.