by J. Lea
“You have your passport?” asks Matt. I take it out of my bag, waving it at him. “Then we’re good to go. Give me your suitcase, I’ll put it in the trunk,” he says and disappears through the door. Sophie comes closer and gives me a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re coming with me. Trust me, we’re going to have a blast. You’ll see how good this trip will be for you.” I give her a gentle smile, whispering to myself. “I hope so.”
The ride to the airport passes quickly. Sophie and Matt hug each other, and kiss goodbye. I turn away to give them some privacy and close my eyes. Oh, how I miss Josh and his hugs and kisses. It has been so long since I have last felt his arms around me. The tears threaten to spill, but I blink a few times, take a deep breath, and try to collect myself. Sophie’s content voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Are you ready for an adventure?” I smile at her, nodding.
We take our luggage out of the car, and head to the entrance. We wave at Matt for the last time, Sophie yells that she loves him, and our vacation begins. We have plenty of time to kill before boarding, so we settle comfortably on one of the benches in our terminal. Sophie pulls a few travel brochures out of her giant bag.
“I really want to see these places,” she says dreamily and pushes the brochures, where all the interesting sights are circled, in my hands. “Here you go.” First, our hotel, circled in red, jumps out at me—Palace Hotel. With a mouth wide-open, I look closely at the pictures of this magnificent building. I had no idea we would be staying at a five-star hotel. The hotel is within a 5-minute walk of the center of the city, which is great since we won’t be dependent on a taxi to get us there. I read some more interesting new information in the brochure and look at some more popular tourist attractions. Soon, it’s time to board the plane and start our adventure. I’ve never been to Europe before and I’m looking forward to seeing many things I only saw in the pictures before, and learning new things.
During the flight we nap and read books so the time passes more quickly than I thought, and before we know it, we land in Valencia. I take a deep breath as I step outside, and we head toward the exit. Taxis are parked in front of the airport, so we pick one and ask the driver to take us to the Palace Hotel.
“Wow!” we both exclaim with our mouths wide-open as we stand in front of our hotel. Palace Hotel is a majestic gray-white building with an antique feel. We eagerly step through the door into a big lobby. The inside is even lovelier than the architecture of the building. Compared to the antique exterior, the interior is modern. Three giant crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling and bathe the lobby in a light glow. The reception area is beautifully designed with modern stools and tables, all in black. It takes us a while as we take everything in, and then we head to the reception desk. One of the employees pleasantly greets us in Spanish. Sophie and I look at one another, giggle and return the greeting. We speak enough Spanish so we won’t get lost, but we still ask the receptionist if we can continue speaking in English. She gives us a kind nod, and asks about our reservation details. Sophie gives her all the necessary documentation and at the same time, she gushes about finally seeing Valencia and meeting the sexy guys who live here. The receptionist and I laugh at her words. We receive the keys to our room once the receptionist confirms our reservation. A porter takes our suitcases and escorts us to the elevator. The gold door opens, we get in, and the porter presses the button for the sixth floor.
“Sexy guys, huh?” I raise my eyebrow at Sophie. “And here I thought you were in a committed relationship.”
“Pft.” She shakes her head. “I’m still allowed to look, aren’t I?” she laughs.
The elevator stops at the sixth floor and we exit. Our room is down the hall to the left. The porter opens the door to our room with a key card, and then hands it to us.
“Have a nice stay,” he says in Spanish, and politely removes the hat he is wearing. We tip him, and take a look at our hotel suite. The living area is big. A large brown sofa with two floral throw pillows sits on one side and a large plasma TV is on the other side. A bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses are set on a small coffee table next to the sofa. Sophie and I look at each other, and Sophie quickly opens the bottle.
“To us, and all the crazy adventures ahead of us,” we toast, and with glasses in hand, we continue the tour of the suite. The next room is a bright bedroom with two beds. A beautiful cream rug covers the floor. The bedding is white, but everything else is in chocolate brown, same as the living room.
Sophie takes off her shoes, climbs on the bed, and starts jumping on it like an excited child. A few pictures of Spanish painters adorn the walls. A big glass door on the end of the room leads to the balcony. The magnificent view of the whole city is the first thing that we notice. Sitting on the balcony at night, and watching the city lights will be even more mesmerizing. The balcony is small with a round table in the middle and two chairs. In the corner there are two deck chairs. We also check out the bathroom, which is as luxurious as the rest of the suite, and finally unpack. It’s getting dark, so we decide to take a short stroll to the city center.
We’ve been in Valencia for four days now, and I’m in love with the city. Sophie and I have seen many famous sights, and museums, plus the opera house and the beach. My favorite was the zoo. Currently, we are sitting in a small café in the city center, sipping coffee and eating ice cream. The sun is gently caressing our skin. Even though it’s the beginning of November, the temperature is pleasant 65 degrees. We are planning to see some more museums, and then we are going to lie by the hotel pool, reading—a perfect way to relax. Up until today, we have gone sightseeing every day, which was entertaining and educational, but it has also been exhausting. I’m quite tired from all the walking around, so a lazy afternoon will be perfect.
“So, what do you have planned for the next three days?” I ask Sophie before taking a sip of the divine coffee. Sophie takes a deep breath as if she wants to say something, but changes her mind. She’s been behaving like this the whole time we’ve been here. I wonder what’s going on in her head. “What? Spill already, you’ve been driving me crazy the whole week. What is troubling you? I don’t bite,” I nudge her with a raised eyebrow. She takes another deep breath and finally speaks.
“Do you remember when I told you I won this trip?” I nod and wait for her to continue. “Well, I kind of lied to you.” My eyes widen at her confession, and I frown.
“What do you mean by that? Meredith also said you won the contest.” Sophie turns to the side, peeking at me with one eye. She quickly exclaims:
“Well, actually I won the tickets for a motorcycle race here in Valencia. The final race of the season is on Sunday, practice is tomorrow, and on Saturday it’s qualifying. We have VIP tickets for the final race, which also means we can go meet the racers in person.” I can hear the hesitation in her voice. She was afraid to tell me about the race because of what I went through with Josh.
“Okay... And the rest of the days we spent here? Those were not included in the package?” I try to remain calm.
“Yes. And no.” She wrinkles her forehead, waiting for my reaction.
“So you paid for the rest?” She nods. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? I’ll pay you back my half when we get home.”
“No! Matt and I wanted for you to take some time to relax because you needed it badly. I’m happy we spent the time together. I felt like you had distanced yourself from me. I miss your friendship.”
“I’m sorry,” I drop my gaze to my knees. “I know I haven’t been much of a friend the last two years. I promise to make a better effort in the future, I want us to be close again.” We hug and I’m suddenly feeling a pang of guilty.
“You aren’t mad?” she asks quietly.
“No. You and Matt were right. I needed this.” Sophie wraps me in another hug, exhaling deeply. “But don’t think for one second I won’t pay you for my half.”
“Fine,” she gives me a sour smile. “So are we
going to the circuit tomorrow?” she asks in a small voice.
“A circuit?”
“Yes, that’s how they call a racetrack in MotoGP.”
“Oh.”
“So, do you wanna come with me?” I shake my head no. “Why not? Please, you have to go with me! You know how crazy I am about motorcycling and everything connected to it.”
“You know why,” I respond as I drink the last of my coffee. The memory of Josh’s death washes over me again. No, I cannot watch people who voluntarily ride around the track, constantly putting their lives in danger.
“This is completely different from what happened to Josh,” she says softly.
I shake my head again. “I can’t, okay? I swore to myself I’m never going near motorcycles again. They ruined my life.” Sophie throws in the proverbial towel, because she knows she can’t persuade me. We decide that tomorrow she’s going to the circuit to watch the practice, and I’m going to relax the whole day by the pool with a good book in one hand and a cocktail in the other.
Chapter Three
Jake
My team and I landed at the airport in Valencia. Tomorrow, and on Saturday, we have practice, and finally, on Sunday it’s the last race of this season. I love everything about motorcycles: racing, the squeal of the tires, and the smell of the motor oil, but I’m tired of posing in front of the cameras and doing countless interviews. Not to mention the women. They’re everywhere. Sometimes, I swear they’re waiting for me somewhere, and then pretend to run into me by total surprise. I find so many phone numbers in my pockets that I could publish a phone book. Not that I’m complaining—I love the attention of the women—but there have to be some boundaries. All the articles I’ve read recently seem to only talk about me going through women like tires on my bike, but I’m not the womanizer they are painting me to be. Yes, I’ve had my share of girlfriends, but I haven’t taken advantage of any of them. I want a woman who is standing firmly on the ground, who doesn’t submit to my every whim just because I’m famous. I want to be with someone who is strong-minded and has her own opinions.
I put on my shades and we cross the airport to the rental car that is already waiting for us. Of course, a crowd of groupies and fans is already waiting in front of the vehicle. How the hell did they find out about our arrival? They are worse than the CIA and FBI combined. I shake my head and put a fake smile on my face. I wave to them, and Mike, my fellow racer and my best friend, does the same. We try to make our way through the crowd to our car.
“Excuse me, ladies,” says Pete, one of the members of my team.
“Jake, I love you!” I hear someone calling behind me, and I only shake my head. The fans are screaming their heads off, and trying to grab whatever part of my body they can reach.
“Hey there, ladies. This area is off limits,” I say as three of them have their hands on my butt.
“Why?” one of them complains. Seriously? A complete stranger is offended when I tell her she cannot pinch my butt? Rolling my eyes, I continue my way toward our car.
“Can you sign my arm?” another fan asks. This time, I don’t say yes because if I give an autograph to one person, everybody will want one, and we don’t have time for that right now.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, we’re in a hurry,” I try to be as kind as possible. From the corner of my eye, I notice Mike isn’t doing any better than I am. Good thing his wife is by his side so she can control the groupies. I have no such luck. But that doesn’t mean I want to get married. Hell no! That’s not for me. But Debbie fights for what is hers, and the groupies know that.
Mike and I are best buddies. In the last five years, we’ve gotten really close, I even had the honor of being the best man at his wedding. We met at some race. He was one of the best racers when I started in the premier class, I looked up to him. He gave me a lot of useful advices that I put to good use. We hung out after the races, went out together, and became best friends. Last year, we even ended up on the same team, which works out great for us.
Finally, we reach the car and drive off very slowly as the fans are still gathered around the car, tapping on the windows.
The drive doesn’t take too long, and we get to our hotel, where we check in. Usually, we sleep in our very own trailers that the circuit employees drive to us. Almost every racer has a trailer, so he doesn’t worry about being late for a race or a practice. We will move our things there tomorrow before the practice, but today we’re sleeping in a proper hotel.
I unpack in peace and then take a shower. I have to wash all the grabby hands off my body. I scrub myself clean, and as I get out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hips and reach for my toothbrush. Toothbrush hanging from my mouth, I quickly blow-dry my hair, finish brushing my teeth, and head to bed. A tough weekend is in front of me and I have to be one hundred percent ready if I want to win the cup. I throw Ivy’s phone number in the trash. She’s not my type of a woman. She’s some woman that recognized me at the airport, and immediately offered to keep me company. Out of politeness, I took her number and completely forgot about it until now.
The next morning, when I wake up, I feel refreshed and ready to take on the world. Mentally, I prepare for the first two practices ahead of me. I then meet my team in the restaurant downstairs so we can go over some details after breakfast.
“Morning, Jake,” Mike greets me. I say hi, and shovel a spoonful of scrambled eggs into my mouth. “What’s up?”
“Do you want to go running with me? I have to clear my head, I’m still half asleep.”
“I can’t today. I’ll be with Debbie.”
“Where is she?” I take a look around, but I don’t see her.
“She’s still sleeping. She says she needs some more rest.”
I nod. Who could blame her? She must be exhausted from all the media attention she has to endure for being Mike Jones’s wife. Until now, she has accompanied him to every practice and every race he has participated in. I can tell how much she loves him, she’s not just using him for his fame and glory. It must be difficult for her to see all the groupies offering themselves to him day after day, not caring one bit about the fact that he’s happily married. She must really have nerves of steel to not do anything about the offensive remarks groupies like to throw her way. It’s hard to tell what women want from us. I’m not saying I’m not flattered by their attention, but that’s it. Women only notice me because I’m a famous racer, and every one of them wants their fifteen minutes of fame. Sometimes, I let them have the spotlight for a night. There are so many gala events, openings and charity balls throughout the year that I need someone to accompany me. If any of them strike my fancy, I invite them with me. No woman has ever said no.
After a quick breakfast, I pull on some old basketball shorts, a T-shirt, and some earphones in my ears. The fast rock beats matching my running tempo. Nothing is better than running on the beach. It’s not too hot and it’s not too cold. The weather is perfect for running. My sneakers are digging into the beach sand. It’s still early, so nobody is out here yet, only the seagulls are keeping me company. After a while, I can feel the sweat trickling down my spine, and from under my baseball cap. My breathing is fast. I notice a faint shape of a person a few hundred feet in front of me, sitting by the water. It looks like the person is throwing pebbles into the water. I take a look at my watch and gradually slow down until I stop. I’ve been running for about 45 minutes, so I stretch my muscles. When I get closer to the person, I can see that it’s a brown-haired girl. She looks like she’s lost in thought, staring into distance. If I wasn’t sick of random groupies, I would say she’s pretty. Not just pretty. Beautiful. I bend down to stretch the muscles of my legs. When I raise my gaze again, my eyes meet her eyes, which are also brown, watching me. She smiles faintly, tucks a strand of hair that the sea breeze blew in her face behind her ear, and turns to the water again. I study her; I find it interesting she didn’t approach me immediately. I’m used to women throwing themselves at me the moment the
y spot me. She stands up soon after, cleans the sand off her jeans and starts walking away from the water, past me. This time, she only briefly glances my way and continues walking, leaving me completely mesmerized by her eyes, and forever imprinted in my memory.
We head toward the circuit, to our trailers, and then Mike and I go put on our leathers, boots and gloves while our bikes are being prepared. It’s finally time for me to take my turn around the track. I put on a helmet, do a few stretches, and sit on the bike. I can hear the flashes from the cameras go off behind me, but I don’t pay attention to them. I take a deep breath and turn on the bike, which purrs like a kitten. A member of my team pushes me forward, and I am driving on the track. I skillfully maneuver the turns, quickly figure out where the hidden ‘traps’ are, and enjoy myself. I love racing and the sensations that come with it. After me, Mike and the other racers try out the track.
The next day, we repeat the practice, but this time we also compete for starting positions. I come in second, so I’ll be starting from second position on the grid, and Lars Braun, the German racer for team Ducati, will be in the pole position. He was in second place in the last race. After a few interviews, a visit from some people who won VIP tickets to visit the circuit and meet the racers, and a couple of autographs later, Mike and I head to my trailer, tired as hell. I hand him a beer, and we plop down on the couch in front of the TV. As soon as I turn it on, I see the footage of our practice, the reporter already speaking:
“...day. The current world champion, Jake Burns, will start the last, eighteenth race of this season, from the second starting position. German racer Braun, who was five miliseconds faster than Burns, will be starting from first place on the grid. Mike Jones will be starting third.” He lists the rest of the racers and their starting positions, and then my interview is on.