“I’ll be back soon. You’ll get me for four whole days after Qatar.”
“Four whole days?” She curls her lip disappointed. “Not nearly enough time.”
“I know.” I yawn, the exhaustion hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“Go to sleep. I didn’t mean to keep you up. I just didn’t want to miss my opportunity to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Thank you. I love you.” I close my eyes. Jesus, I’m totally shot.
“I love you, too. Sweet dreams.”
“They’ll only be sweet if I dream of you.”
“Then by all means.” She giggles flirtatiously. “Night, moto.”
“Night, baby.”
26
Dev
Iwatch Kayla pace around the family room like a loon. It’s Reese’s first race of the season, and we promised we’d watch. I mean, I always watch, but this is Kayla’s first time witnessing Reese race. Calling her nervous would be putting it mildly.
After traveling from Malaysia to Australia to Spain, he’s now in Qatar, a small country in the Middle East. Reese has told me the shores of the country are some of the most beautiful and majestic he’s ever seen. And I believe him, considering he’s surfed on every continent applicable in the world.
“Babe, relax.” I lounge on the couch as she paces off the top layer of the rug.
“I can’t. I’m so nervous.”
“About what?”
“What do you mean about what? The first time I met Reese, he was riding a motorcycle and nearly died right in front of me. An experience like that kind of sticks with a person.”
My smile fades. Kayla’s been scarred by a motorcycle accident, so her apprehension is suddenly warranted. The camera on the television screen pans out, displaying the multiple lines of bikers ready and waiting under the stadium lights. The mass takes off, and I swear I hear Kayla’s heart hit the ground.
“Will you come here?” I scoot forward and tug at her hand.
“I don’t think I can sit.” Back and forth, she goes.
“Fine. Have it your way. I’m here when you’re ready.” I lean back on the leather.
I’ve watched what feels like a million races with how long Reese has been competing, but I have to say, observing Kayla experience it for the first time makes it much more interesting. Reese’s place on the grid was lumped somewhere in the middle, so he’ll have to fight for the lead, which he’s currently doing, gaining ground and passing the other racers at lightning speed. The animated announcers keep the excitement hyped, calling play-by-plays as the riders make their dangerous moves.
“Jesus!” Kayla covers her eyes as Reese sneaks between a Ducati and a Honda to steal third place. He sets a good pace as he charges on for what he’s really after. First.
“Oh!” She nearly goes through the ceiling as a rider is ejected from his bike and flies across the track. By the twelfth lap, the appeal is lost. This is usually where I take a bathroom break, but Kayla can’t peel her eyes away from the screen. Reese is riding fantastically, hugging the curves with the utmost precision, leaning spectacularly. His elbow and knee touch the ground as he hits a particularly sharp apex, and the friction actually causes sparks.
“Why does he have to go solow?” Kayla complains through her covered mouth. She hasn’t removed her hands from her face the entire race.
“Because that’s his job, and that’s what makes him the best. His incomparable ability.”
“This is torture.”
“If you are like this in my family room, I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like in Austin.”
Reese made it crystal clear that Kayla and I must be at his one and only American race. I’m cool with it. I go every year, but Kayla? She may need a sedative. Especially when she watches the race from VIP seating, i.e. Reese’s garage behind the paddock, where the entire team is housed.
“I’m going to be a stark raving lunatic.”
