It still wasn’t a first-place victory for Isaac, but it was a fantastic result. Out of curiosity, she’d asked after qualifyingyesterday if he’d ever finished ahead of his brother. The answer had been an emphatic no. There had been a couple of decent race battles with his brother while Vince had been recovering from arm and shoulder surgery years ago, but every one of those had gone the champion’s way.
Anna shared a look with Angel as they headed for parc ferme. The older man’s face looked calm, but she caught a look of disquiet cross his features. What was she missing? He looked like he expected trouble.
Her worry seemed unfounded when they reached the victor’s section. Vince seemed happy for Isaac, and they shared a back-slapping hug when they returned after celebrating in front of their fan club grandstands. Maybe Vince didn’t mind his brother finishing ahead of him for a change. She felt uncharitable for thinking it might have been a problem. Of course, he was happy for Isaac.
Isaac celebrated with her in their usual way, spinning her in an exuberant circle before kissing her breathless. She didn’t mind that he was sweaty. This was her Isaac, and she loved that he shared his enthusiasm. He set her down to get ready for the cameras and his post-race interviews. He couldn’t stop grinning, and his eyes gleamed. She should have become immune to his gorgeous looks, but right now, she was reminded how attractive he was. Not everything in her life had been so lucky, but for once, she had a terrific boyfriend.
Standing at the edge of the area, she listened to the BRN English-speaking reporter’s interview with Vince while she waited with Isaac, who would speak next. Interviews always progressed from third to first, with the winner speaking last.
“Would you say that you were more or less motivated to pass on the last lap because it was your brother ahead of you?” the reporter asked.
His camera crew stood behind him while a second crew filmed the post-race interview from further back. A different network, perhaps. She’d seen them around a lot.
This reporter often asked unique questions and offered insightful commentary about engines, racing, and the bikes themselves. The second group must also want to hear the answers.
“More. For sure. We’ve always been competitive,” said Vince with his wide camera smile that made him seem open and approachable instead of driven and cut-throat competitive. “But, since this is the first time my little brother beat me on a Sunday, I can let him have one every fifteen years.”
Let him? Nice. She tapped her toe—kind of an asshole way to look at Isaac’s superb race.
The reporter laughed. “How do you feel about your brother being second in the championship? Any extra sibling rivalry at home this year?”
Without hesitation, Vince said, “I’m happy for him.” He winked, “As long as he doesn’t win too many races, or I might have to increase his rent.” He and the reporter shared another laugh.
Like it was all in good fun.
If Anna hadn’t been watching so closely, she might not have seen the flash of annoyance on Vince’s charming camera facade. He didn’t like to lose. Especially to his brother, it seemed. Isaac knew his brother too and his face lost its glow of happiness. For all Vince was joking, there was a nugget of truth in his words. He didn’t like Isaac’s success. What would he do or say if Isaac ever won a race?
...
While Anna waited for Isaac to finish showering before they drove to his mother’s place for dinner, her phone buzzed. The name that appeared on the screen was a surprise—Sandra, her former boss. What did she want? Anna almost didn’t answer, but curiosity got the better of her. It was mid-morning back in Seattle. Maybe Sandra needed something related to Anna quitting. There might be paperwork she should have filled out. Instead of just leaving the country and not speaking to anyone in HR, other than leaving a message with her new number.
With a deep breath, she answered. “Hello.”
“Oh, thank goodness I found you,” said Sandra, her breathy voice sounding panicked. “Where have you been? I’ve left you a dozen messages at home this week.”
“I moved,” said Anna. “Listen, this is long distance. Do you need something?” She hated to be abrupt, but she wanted to get this conversation over with.
“We need your help,” said Sandra. “It was unfortunate how that all played out a couple of months ago and that our little misunderstanding led to you quitting.”
The gall of that woman. Anna didn’t have to swallow her anger anymore when dealing with her. This was no longer her boss. “Misunderstanding? Do you mean when you stole my work and took credit for it with a top client? When you belittled me when I stuck up for myself?” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.
There were several seconds of silence. Had Sandra hung up?
“Uh. About that.” Her former boss cleared her throat. “Just because that happened to me a couple of times on the way up the corporate ladder, doesn’t make it right. I’m sorry. I should havebrought you in and made you part of the discussion from the start. Your ideas had value.”
An apology was something, but Anna couldn’t quite let her anger go. “What do you want?” Her emotions from that day flooded back, constricting her throat. It was one thing to have the moral high ground—another to deal with confrontation—which never seemed to get easier. She blamed her parents and their angry fights. Even the thought of them made her clench her fist. She hated when thoughts of them intruded in her life. Closing her eyes, she returned her focus to the phone.
“I want you to come back to work. Marcus Jones has rejected every idea I’ve had for the next phase of his campaign. He says they’re missing the magic. I admitted that you might have come up with the original concept and that you were the one with the vision. I need you back on the team, or we lose his business. All of it.”
Anna chewed on her lip. “I’m in Spain and not coming back.” It felt fantastic to say that to this woman who had made her professional life a misery.
“Oh my god. Spain? What in the world would you go there for?” said Sandra. “Please. If we have to, we can do this remotely, but I need you to help with this account, or we’ll lose it.”
“That isn’t my fault,” said Anna, still with a bite in her voice.
“I can see that I’ve caught you off guard.” Sandra’s words sped up. “Don’t say a final no. Think about it. Please. I’ll stall Marcus for a few more days. I’ll tell him you’re a, maybe.”
“I don’t think so.” Anna didn’t want to be part of that world anymore. She wanted to be a writer.
