CHAPTER 24
Isaac
Isaac usually paid no attention to anyone or anything on the grid as he listened to music until the last possible second, using it to drown out distraction.
Today, he spared a glance for Anna holding his umbrella, her engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight.
He caught her eye and winked. He was grateful to share his final MotoGP races with her.
After today, he had only two more professional races, and he intended to enjoy them.
He got away clean, following Vince through the first several laps, trading places several times with Luka.
This allowed Vince to pull a couple of bike lengths in front and stay there.
Isaac found his rhythm and was feeling good.
He was planning when to put a move on Vince when out of nowhere a seagull smashed into his bike—one of the random Phillip Island hazards.
Somehow, he kept his bike upright, and on the track as he shook off the unexpected collision.
But he lost time and Luka shot ahead. With only three laps remaining, Isaac was alone and in a safe third place.
He accelerated to get back on terms with Luka, but the kid sped away.
After two laps, Isaac conceded. He couldn’t catch him.
At least he hadn’t crashed. Finishing third meant another valuable sixteen points in the championship.
Vince won again, gaining nine points on Isaac, whose lead had shrunk to a slim margin.
Isaac needed a solid finish in Malaysia, so he’d be leading going into the final race.
While he led the overall standings, part of him expected Vince’s rally.
He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother won—he was the only twelve-time world champion for a reason.
With Spencer in jail, Anna seemed happier.
Isaac hadn’t realized how much it had affected her day after day, just being on guard.
That wasn’t the only positive news. Her lawyer had let her know Adam had vacated the townhouse before the specified date, and her firm had listed it for sale.
Things were coming together in their lives.
The Malaysian Grand Prix at Sepang was the last of the ‘flyaway’ races, and Isaac was looking forward to returning home afterward for ten days before the last race in Valencia, Spain. He couldn’t wait to sleep in his own brand-new bed.
The Sepang race weekend proceeded like clockwork. Angel and the crew had the bike in top form, and Isaac qualified in third—another front-row start. The Sunday forecast had been for a mix of sun and showers, but they awoke to a gorgeous blue-sky day without rain clouds. Perfect for racing.
The first two-thirds of the race went well, and Isaac was in the mix for a podium finish, once again battling with Luka and Vince.
For a split second, he hesitated, his mind wandering, and the next, he catapulted through the air.
He landed hard on his back—the airbag inflating and preventing serious injury.
He lay still in the gravel for a few seconds—the wind knocked out of him.
A dust cloud hung over him, floating while he caught his breath. He smashed a fist to the ground. Damn.
He sat up, trying to rein in his emotions. Despite the crash, he was alive. The inattentive moment could have caused something so much worse. He couldn’t dwell, needing to put the crash from his mind.
Shuffling to his feet, already feeling where bruises bloomed, he stood and took stock. Nothing seemed painful enough to be broken or sprained. He determined he was fine and moved farther from the track and took a couple of deep breaths, before checking to see if he could remount.
He glanced up the track, though all the riders had disappeared around the next bend in the track.
He needed to salvage anything, even a point or two, but there was no possible way.
His bike was destroyed, scattered into five or six pieces.
He kicked the nearest chunk as he trudged toward the safety fence and the path beyond while trackside marshals dragged his shattered bike away.
He took a breath. He’d had amazing luck all season.
This crash had been due, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
At least he was uninjured. Still, if only he hadn’t lost concentration.
The championship had been there for the taking and if he wasn’t careful, it would slip from his grasp.
By the time he arrived at pit lane, the race had ended, and Vince had won, again.
Isaac did a quick calculation in his head. With his DNF and Vince’s twenty-five points for the win, he and his brother were tied with four hundred points each. Everything would come down to the final race. If Isaac won, how would Vince behave?
. . .
Just before midnight, on the night before the championship showdown in Valencia—which was being billed by Marcus Birch as #VasquezShowdown—Isaac jumped up to answer the knock at their hotel room door.
It was late for visitors so it must be important.
Vince stood in the hallway, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He must not be able to sleep either.
“Can we go for a walk?” His brother said. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. Let me tell Anna.” Isaac poked his head into the bathroom where Anna was brushing her teeth. “Vince asked me to go for a walk. I shouldn’t be too late.” He kissed her cheek, grabbed a sweater, and left with his brother.
They took the elevator to the parking garage.
“I thought we were walking,” said Isaac as the doors opened underground.
“There’s somewhere else I want to walk so we can ditch the cameras,” said Vince.
They climbed into his car, and they drove to the Circuit Ricardo Tormo where the race tomorrow would be held, the last of Isaac’s career.
Vince parked, and they strolled side by side near the quiet track on the paved path outside the safety fence.
They’d shared a lot of memories here, having been on the racing circuit since they were teenagers.
It seemed fitting that Isaac’s last race was on Spanish soil.
Vince must have something particular on his mind, but at first, he didn’t speak.
Twice he tugged his ear and seemed about to say something, but so far, the silence had been unbroken.
After half the circuit in the chilly November night, lit only by the overhead lights at distant intervals, Vince said, “Do you think you’ll miss it?”
“I’ll miss you and yeah, there will probably be times I’ll miss racing.” Isaac had made peace with his decision and could discuss it calmly.
“Do you regret not signing again? Retiring at only thirty-three?”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m ready for something different.
” As he ambled, he cataloged the turns and his crashes over the years.
At least they’d never been serious. Looking back, he didn’t think he’d ever pushed himself as hard as this year.
He’d been the one to play it safe. Well, relatively safe, no motorcycle racer lived a conservative life.
He and his brother walked until they were across from the final turn before the start-finish straight.
“I want you to do something for me,” said Vince, slowing his pace.
“Sure,” said Isaac. This must be the reason they’d come. It would probably be about training, the riding academy, or the future. He hoped Vince would miss him next year, too.
“Tomorrow, I want you to try to win.” They stopped.
Isaac laughed. “Of course.” His breath plumed in the frosty air.
“No. I mean it,” said Vince, his intensity boring into Isaac. The overhead lights made his skin look ghostly and pale and reflected off his dark eyes.
“You’re going to let me win?” Isaac frowned, feeling his forehead tighten. That didn’t seem like Vince.
“No way,” said Vince, waving his hands. “Of course not, but if I win, it has to be because I deserved it. Victory is cheap if it’s handed to me. If you can win, do it. Fight for the championship. I’m going to go all out, and you should, too.”
Isaac said nothing.
Vince continued. “Don’t get mad at me, but I think you crashed during the last race because subconsciously, you expected me to win. You lost your concentration, and your race went to hell.”
Irritation flashed through Isaac, only to dissipate in seconds while he resumed walking, Vince trailing.
Isaac hadn’t looked at it that way. He’d just seen his accident as unlucky, but Vince had a point.
His head hadn’t been in it. Not enough for a victory.
After fifteen meters, he halted once more and faced his brother.
Crashing in tomorrow’s race wasn’t the worst outcome.
“What if I win?” Isaac’s voice cracked. He didn’t want to wreck their relationship over something so silly as a race, no matter how important.
“Then you’ll be the champion this year, and I’ll be happy for you.
You deserve it as much as I do.” Isaac tried to interject but Vince barreled on.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love winning. But you’re my only brother, and we’ve done this together for so long.
The least I can do is to be a gracious loser. ”
Isaac raised his eyebrow. “Can you?” While he said it with a teasing tone, there was some truth to his question. Gracious losing wasn’t his brother’s strength.
Vince laughed. “That’s fair, but for you, I can. You’re family. To win, you’ll have to beat me. Promise you’ll try.”
Isaac studied his brother. “It won’t ruin our friendship?”
Vince held out his hand. “I promise. Brothers before victory.”
Isaac shook his brother’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. He swallowed. “I promise to give it my all.” His voice cracked. This was one of those times that Vince’s words had been not just a pleasant surprise, but a gift. “May the best Vasquez win.”