For all his anger, Isaac was worried about his brother, so he decided to try talking to him. He waited outside at the boundary between their boxes as Vince returned after FP2, his leathers scuffed from a bone-jarring accident this morning. The man must be a walking bruise.
“I still don’t like the set-up.” Vince stopped his bike near Isaac and dismounted without a flicker of acknowledgment. He strode into the box, pelted his gloves at the wall, and turned to his waiting pit crew with a shout. “Do your damn job and fix the bike.”
Isaac half-turned away in disgust. A private word with Vince now looked impossible. This was none of his business, but it was like watching a train wreck. Horrible and messy. Isaac couldn’t look away when he needed to see the damage.
Ripping off his helmet, Vince threw it at one of his mechanics, who caught it with a look of surprise. Isaac had never seen his brother so incensed. In the garage, everyone stopped and stared, as shocked as Isaac. On Luka’s side of the box, the crew tried to look busy while they took in Vince’s show.
“These tires are shit. The grip goes way too soon. Did someone adjust the top speed of the bike? It doesn’t go fast enough on the straights. The acceleration is fucked.” Vince sounded like Xavi, not like his usual calm and professional self. Isaac took a breath and backed away.
Through the garage partition, Vince’s comments carried loud and clear as he continued to rant. Someone needed to help his brother calm down. Isaac would have tried, but with the way things were between them, he’d only make it worse. Something other than the bike or its tires must be bothering him, and Isaac doubted it was the championship. Vince didn’t consider him a genuine threat, and no one else was close enough in the standings to leave him this stressed.
After their second busy day of practice and qualifying, there still hadn’t been an opportunity for a private word with Vince. He hadn’t answered Isaac’s texts asking to talk and hadn’t answered the door to his trailer today between FP3 and FP4 or this afternoon after qualifying. No surprise, but Vince must be avoiding him.
After dinner, Isaac left Anna and Catarina at the table on their own and followed Vince to the bathroom. If he couldn’t get his brother to agree to talk, it was time to escalate his efforts and force the issue. After checking that they were alone, Isaac locked the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed or have reporters zeroing in on their talk. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.
He waited for Vince to finish and ambushed him near the sink. “Look Vince, can we just make up already?”
“You still seeing that girl?” Vince leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed.
“Her name is Anna, and you know I am.” Isaac drummed his fingers against his thigh. Already he was frustrated. Why couldn’t his brother be reasonable? “Can’t you just admit that you crossed a line when you spoke to her at mom’s? You need to apologize. Anna’s a terrific girl, and if you got to know her, you’d like her too.”
“She’s got secrets,” said Vince.
“We all have secrets. That’s a ridiculous reason.”
“What do you know about her?” challenged Vince.
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. Vince looked smug. What did he know? “What secrets in particular?”
“You should hear what Spencer says.” Vince wouldn’t meet Isaac’s eyes. “It’s bad.”
Isaac took two steps forward, his fist clenched at his side. “Spencer has been talking about Anna? Since when are you two such buddies? You used to think he was a pretentious ass. Tell me what he said. I’ll handle it.” He bit off his words, surprised at the hot flush that rushed through him. Was this because Anna preferred Isaac to Vince?
Vince gave him a long look, perhaps trying to decide if Issac was serious. “He says that for twenty Euros, she gives blowjobs behind the trailers. He brags about being a regular. Apparently, you almost caught them in Germany after the race.”
Isaac’s mouth tasted like bile as he stepped forward, his body quivering with his intense reaction. That bastard. Wait until he got his hands on Spencer.
Vince leaned back. “Don’t kill the messenger. Spencer is the one talking shit. Not me. He says she’s been two-timing you since the second race of the season.”
“There’s no way.” Several times lately, Anna had come back upset and hadn’t told him what was going on. Spencer bothering her was a real possibility. Secret blowjobs were not.
“Spencer’s been harassing her.” Isaac would bet money on it after what the Aussie had been saying. “I can guarantee he doesn’t like that she turned him down and picked me instead. We’ll have him reprimanded and charged with sexual harassment.”
“How do you know Spencer is lying?” Vince’s dark eyes bored into him.
“Because I know Anna, and she’d never do that. Someone has been upsetting her. I just didn’t know who. Either she’s heard Spencer, or he’s said inappropriate things to her face.” Isaac ground down on his molars. “I bet it was the latter.” It was difficult to speak through his red haze.
Vince stared at him. “Whoa. Take it easy. No need to hulk out. You know her best.” He tugged on his ear.
That’s what he always did when he was thinking. Isaac took deep breaths and gave him time.
“I’m sorry I listened to Spencer and his stories instead of talking to you.” Vince’s tone had changed, but it wasn’t the apology Isaac wanted. It seemed like Vince was simply placating him.
“Don’t get mad at me again, but you accepted the lies as true because you were jealous.” Isaac had never been closer to punching his brother.
“I said you could have Anna. I wasn’t interested. How could I be jealous?” Vince’s voice was sharp, but he seemed surprised.
Suddenly it became clear that Vince wasn’t jealous because Anna chose him, but because Vince thought she’d taken him away. This was about him, not Anna. This talk wasn’t going according to the script Isaac had rehearsed over the last twenty-four hours.
