Ares nods. “We did. Of course, the deal is provisional on the vote of this council in lifting the motorcycle ban in Star Cove. But the Super Bikes League has been keen on coming back to California after the closure of the Bridgeport racetrack.”
“That’s one race.” Scott argues. “Even if the council lifted the ban, and I guarantee I’ll do everything in my power to prevent that from happening, one race a year will hardly provide the boost to our economy you’ve been boasting about.”
“The Super Bike League is just the beginning.” Ares doesn’t look at his father, but at the members of the council who seem more receptive to what they’ve been hearing so far. “If you look at the plans we’ve included with our petition, you’ll see that the new racetrack is going to be used for much more than one bike race a year. We’ll hold races for amateurs on a regular basis, but we’ll also have motorcycle safety training and riding courses. But our real goal is to bring MotoGP to Star Cove. If we achieve that, we’ll put our town on the map for racing. And motorcycles are only one of the types of racing we want to have at our racetrack. We’ll also have cars. Minor races to begin with, but we aim for the top.”
Scott’s incredulous laugh comes out more like a snort. “You aren’t trying to say that you’re going to get the F1 Grand Prix at your little derelict racetrack, are you?”
The corners of Ares’s lips curl up in that barely there smile I’ve always found incredibly sexy. “I reached out to my old contacts in MotoGP, and they’re interested to see what we do with Super Bikes first. If that happens, who’s to say that we can’t add an F1 race to the ones hosted in the U.S.? We’ll have a state-of-the-art racetrack to rival all the best in the world. That’s a pipe dream, but I’m very confident about MotoGP being very possible for us.”
One of the council members who have been listening more intently has a question. “Mr. Hunter,” he challenges. “What you’re proposing sounds great, but how realistic is it to have both motorcycles and cars racing in the same place? I’m not an expert in the matter by any means, but I would assume thatbike and car races are very different. How would the same track accommodate both?”
It’s my turn to explain, since I helped draft the design of the racetrack we’re planning to build.
“If I may,” I rise from my chair. “It’s true that most racetracks are designed for either cars or motorcycles. But there are some notable exceptions. The most famous racetracks that host both MotoGP and F1 are Silverstone, Spielberg and Catalunya. These circuits are designed to challenge the skills of the world’s best riders and drivers. Silverstone, for example, is well known for its high-speed corners. With the changeable weather conditions that’s typical of England, it demands incredible precision and a good amount of bravery, especially in wet weather conditions. Catalunya presents a unique mix of long straights and tight corners, being a versatile track that requires a balanced setup. The Spielberg ring has a short layout, but the real challenge there is the elevation changes, and it’s a track that challenges riders' and drivers’ technical skills.”
I was really nervous when I started speaking, but I’ve always been passionate about racing; it’s in my blood.
My confidence grows with every word. “Even with all their differences, what these racetracks have in common are the strict safety regulations that put the riders and drivers’ safety first in case of accidents. We’re planning on designing a racetrack that, with the right adjustments, can host both motorcycle and car races. The old track has excellent bones, and once the project is finished, Star Cove is going to have a state-of-the-art circuit fit for professional racing. If you lift the ban on motorcycles, the whole town will benefit from it.”
Another member of the council offers me an encouraging smile. “It looks like you have thought about everything. But am I reading correctly that you plan to open the doors of the new racetrack in a mere few weeks? Is that possible? If Irecall correctly, that racetrack has been left to the elements for decades, like the mayor pointed out earlier.”
A man in an expensive suit stands up from his seat two rows ahead of us. He’s on the opposite side of the two aisles of chairs destined for the citizens who wish to attend the city council meetings, so I can see him pretty well from my position.
He has dark hair with a spray of silver on his temples, and dark eyes that look vaguely familiar. “Good evening, everyone. I would like to answer that last question. I’m the new owner of the racetrack, and we’ve already broken ground on the restoration and expansion works. I also own the company that is doing the work, so I can guarantee you that it has been made a priority.”
“Mr. Morelli,” Scott bites out. “So you’re the majority partner in this project?”
I knew Enzo Morelli was the person who’s going to front the money for this entire project, but I had never met him in person. It makes sense that I thought he looked familiar. He has Mason’s same shrewd, calculating eyes. He just looks way more elegant and not as rough around the edges as his nephew.
“Guilty as charged.” Morelli smiles, causing a few nervous laughs around the room.
Everyone knows that behind the many legitimate businesses owned by the Morelli family there’s a whole underground empire of dubious, often downright criminal enterprises.
No one so far has been able to prove anything substantial against him, partially thanks to the excellent work of his legal team.
“I guess.” There’s an edge to Scott’s tone. “That answers the question about the funds for the project. But you’re known as a prudent, savvy businessman, Mr. Morelli. Don’t you think that starting the works on that racetrack is awfully premature, and an unnecessary financial risk since unless the motion in your petition is approved, you won’t be able to use that racetrack atall? Motorcycles are still illegal in Star Cove, and nothing I heard today is going to change my vote on the matter.”
Morelli doesn’t let Scott’s tone ruffle his feathers. He looks more like a Fortune 500 company CEO than like a mafia boss. “Like you heard from the exceptional young citizens who are spearheading this project, motorcycles are only one part of the deal. If today’s vote doesn’t go our way, we can race cars while we campaign to change the law once and for all.”
Lev
We were under no illusions that our petition would be met with open arms by the council and the mayor.
I know the fight isn’t over when I notice the look on Scott’s face. My best friends’ father is a determined man; someone who doesn’t give up on something he truly believes in. That is the characteristic that made him succeed in his NHL career, as one of the top sports agents in the country and later on when he decided to run for mayor.
“Very well,” the town clerk clears her throat. “If there are any brief closing remarks, this is the time to speak. Then we’ll immediately proceed to a vote. Mr. Mayor?”
Scott stands up. He looks around the room, but his eyes settle on us before he speaks.
There is anger on his face, but it’s the sadness in his gaze that breaks my heart.
“There is just one more thing I want to say.” Scott’s voice is hard and firm. “The ban on motorcycles is one of the most important ways we keep our town safe. You’ve known my family for years,” he says, looking at the members of the council. “You know how I supported my eldest sons in their aspirations to become professional motorcycle racers. Like them, I was convinced that racing on a racetrack, with all the safety equipment and the safety regulations, would be a calculated risk. You all know my first career was in professional hockey. It’s a dangerous contact sport. Career-ending injuries and concussions happen every day. But that didn’t stop me from pursuing my passion, and I encouraged my kids to follow theirs. I wish with everything I have that I hadn’t. Motorcycles are different. It doesn’t matter how many barriers you put there, how many safety layers the racers wear. It takes one wet racetrack, and it’s game over. I blame myself every day for what happened to my son Atlas. I’m responsible for his death because I didn’t protect him. I bought him his first dirt bike. As Star Cove’s mayor, it’s my responsibility to protect our youth from the same dangers. This is why I ask you to uphold the ban on motorcycles within city limits. Protect my remaining kids, and your own; keep our town safe.”
Fuck.
Scott has never said Atlas’s name out loud since his funeral. It had become an unspoken rule not to mention Atlas or talk about him in front of Scott.
The fact that he just said his name in front of the council and half the town is testament to how important this is to the mayor. He truly believes that motorcycles are some kind of evil responsible for what happened in Bridgeport. In his eyes, the only way to keep us safe is to ban motorcycles altogether.
