Jesse
With Santini’s laptop tucked under Ice’s arm, we left his camper to go and find Coach. The photographs were once again crumpling in my fist as I flew out the door behind him. My jaw was set rigid as I dug the heel of my shoes deep into the well-worn paths around the trailers. With each step I sharpened my focus on that asshole Santini’s face; the face I wanted to punch with all the pent up anger I had been carrying inside of me since the time I first laid eyes on those photographs. I was raging mad and I didn’t want to be responsible for what I would do when I saw him. I usually went with my impulses and let my anger lead the way. It had worked for me before, it would work for me now.
In the time it took us to walk over to Coach’s RV, my mind spun with more and more contempt for Santini. Obviously, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. I wasn’t about to let some dickhead from Brazil mess with Niki and get away with it. Yeah, I got kicked off the team, so what? I didn’t give a damn. I could deal with that, but Niki— I would do anything for Niki, even if she wasn’t speaking to me. That devil, Santini, made her look bad in front of all of my teammates and everyone else here in Italy. He tarnished her reputation and he wasn’t going to get away with that.
Niki was nothing but sweet and loyal to me, and Santini used her picture to make her look like a cheating two-timer. Sure, he was out to get me, but he hurt others along the way, and one of them was very special to me. I could live without being on the Yamaha team. I could go back to the U.S., find another team to ride for. I had a stellar reputation in the Motocross world. I was the best damn rider out there and I was confident my agent, Laurent, could find me another gig in a heartbeat.
I didn’t give a damn about whose team I was on, right now.
“Coach, we have to talk to you.” We burst into his RV and caught him in the middle of lunch. He sat at the same small table that acted as his office desk by day and kitchen table by night, the only place in these cramped quarters where a person could sit and work. Coach looked up from his salami sandwich in surprise, crumbs rolling down the white napkin he had tucked in the open collar of his Team Yamaha Polo shirt.
With a mouth full of food he growled, “What the fuck?”
Ice and I repeated ourselves talking over each other in our haste. “Coach, we have to talk. We have something important—”
“—you need to hear.” Ice finished my sentence for me.
“Whoa, guys. Slow—” He stopped to spit out a stray shred of lettuce onto the paper plate that held the other half of his sandwich. “Slow down, you two. What the hell is all this about? Can’t you see I’m eating?”
“You’ve got to call Santini in here right away, before he has a chance to get away.”
Coach had put what was left of half of the sandwich back on the plate and raised a hand, palm out. “Stop? Get away? What are you talking about? You have the nerve to interrupt my lunch? This is my favorite, Salame di Milan and Gorganzola cheese.” He motioned to the remainder of a large sandwich, piled high with sliced meats.
I couldn’t stand it. He was wasting time, trying to make a joke out of his food when I was desperate to find Santini and expose him for the rat bastard that he was. I leaned forward in his face, planting the palms of my hands flat on the table. “Coach,” I barked, “just listen to me. Get Santini in here, now. Santini is a rotten apple, he’s tearing the team apart and we can prove it. Just call him in here and we’ll explain the whole thing, but please, hurry, before he finds out we’re on to him.”
Coach was taken aback by my forcefulness. His eyes darted to the left and he paused for a moment then spoke in a serious tone. “Jesse, why are you even here? You’re not on the team, anymore. What do you mean Santini is tearing apart the team?”
“I... I came back to get my gear, but then I talked to Ice and he set me straight. You’ve just got to get Santini in here and I’ll explain everything.” I backed off from being in Coach’s face, realizing I may have crossed the line; my approach was a little too aggressive but I was all wound up inside.
Without another word, Coach stood up, threw his napkin on top of his food and went to the door. He opened it and leaned out, searching for the first person he could find, then he yelled, “Johnny! Go find Goddamn Santini and bring him in here.” There was a pause and I could hear Johnny’s affirmative response. “Tell him I want to see him... now. And don’t waste your time, get his ass over here, right now.”
He let the door bang shut, mumbling under his breath, “fucking son of a bitch.”
I shot a nervous glance at Ice. Would Coach believe us? Jamie told me I was Coach’s favorite and even though he kicked me off the team, I was banking on it now, hoping Coach would see Santini for what he was, a cheat and a liar.
Coach stood in the area of the RV near the driver’s seat for a moment and said, “This had better be important.” And he pointed a finger at Ice. “You should be out there on the track, training. This had better not be a Goddamn waste of time.” Then he pointed at me. “And you...” He grumbled without finishing his sentence, pushed his way past us, and took his seat again, sliding into the booth that was the kitchen table. I ran my hand through my hair, impatient for Santini to get in here. The silent minutes ticked away as we stared at the floor, waiting.
Coach picked up the other half of his sandwich, took one bite and then let it drop to the plate as if he were disgusted with how it tasted now. He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin when the door rattled. It was Santini coming in. He hadn’t finished mounting the stairs when he froze. His eyes darted from me to Ice and then to the laptop in Ice’s hands.
Coach noticed Santini hesitate and snapped, “Get in here and sit down.”
Ice sat on the couch, but I was too hyped up to sit. When Santini saw the look on Coach’s face, he complied and slid into the long seat opposite Coach at the table.
Coach pushed his plate to the side and cleared the space on the table between himself and Santini. Then he looked up at me and said, “Well?” and waived his hand with an open palm.
The whole time we were waiting for Santini to get here, Coach was eyeing the laptop Ice held. He probably figured we had something on it to show him. But when I threw the photographs on the table, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. I threw them so hard one of them bounced off Santini’s chest, then landed askew. Coach rotated his head to get a better look and held the pictures held loosely between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it and his head at the same time, until it was aligned directly in front of him.
“So why don’t you tell Coach exactly what you did? Or do you want me to?”
With a smug smile he folded his arms across his chest and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?’ Like this was some kind of a joke.
I was steaming mad. The blood was boiling in my veins and it was all I could do to keep from punching him out, right on the spot. I had to restrain myself in front of Coach but later, if given the chance, I was going to fuck him up bad.
Keeping my voice calm and my temper cool I said, “I can’t believe you’re even trying to lie your way out of this. We know about Paolo.”
Coach’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the photos until Ice shoved Santini’s laptop on the table on top of them. Ice said, “We know all about your cousin in Brazil, your Photoshop expert. Well, you might think he’s an expert but according to a real photographer, these are shitty.”
I crossed my arms across my chest and planted my feet apart in a wide stance. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Santini, it was a brilliant plan. It almost worked.”
Coach’s face was stern the entire time. He was quiet, but watched Santini’s reactions, searching for the truth in all of these accusations.
Santini said nothing. His jaw twitched and he swallowed hard as he stared at the laptop in front of him. Coach took Santini’s actions as a soundless incrimination. This seemed to infuriate Coach and his voice came out like a rumble of angry thunder. “Santini! Is this God damn true?”
Still Santini was speechless. I snorted and tossed my head back in disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not much to say.”
Coach’s face turned purple-red and there were veins popping out of his forehead like fireworks on the Fourth of July. He rose to his feet from behind the little kitchen table and he roared at Santini. “Pack you shit, Santini, and get the hell out. And consider yourself lucky that Jesse’s not pressing charges.”
Santini bolted for the door, shoving his way between me and Ice. As he pushed past me, I was overwhelmed with the urge to throw him to the ground and beat him into a bloody pulp. And I almost did it. He was so close. I had him by the arm, and I was ready to go through with it but, at the last second, I let him go. He stumbled, twisted away, and wrested himself free, then fell out the door of the RV and hit the ground running.
Anger tore at my stomach, burning holes into the lining, or so I thought, since it felt like someone had covered it with acid. I wanted to scream at Santini, curse him for what he did to me and Niki, but he was gone. It was over. Now I knew the answer to who did this to me, but I didn’t feel any better; without Niki, my life was still one big pile of shit. How was I supposed to heal my broken heart when it felt like my world was falling apart?
With his hand on my arm, Ice held me back and said, “Let him go, Jesse. It’s over.”
Ice was right. There was nothing I could do now except go home to New York, lick my wounds and try to start over again. I turned back to Coach with a last ditch effort and asked sheepishly, “Coach, seems you’re a man short on the team.”
Although he looked tired, he smiled as he rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his hand across his forehead, letting his fingers stop at his temple. “Yes, Jesse. It appears we are.”
“So what do you think? Can I be back on the team?”
“Yeah, I think we can make that happen. Since the charges against you were dropped... I guess you’re back in.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I tipped my head back, as if thanking the gods in the sky. At least I had the job I loved back.
Ice shook my hand with a firm grip and said, “I think the team is going to be ten times stronger, now. Let’s nail this.”
“Thanks, Ice. You’re a good guy. This whole time I’d misjudged you and I’m sorry for that.”
Coach was beaming, a big grin on his face. He joined in the spirit of things and said, “Well, it’s about time we get some freaking team spirit in this camp.”
Ice gave me a genuinely warm smile for the first time since I came to the Milan training camp. Hopefully now Ice and I can pull together and take our team to the top.
Coach glanced over at us and in a jovial voice said, “What the hell are you standing around here for? You have some training to do. Now, get the hell out of here.”
We both headed for the door when Coach called after me, “Jesse, hold up a minute.” I took my hand off of the door knob and stepped back inside the small living room area.
He hemmed and hawed for a while and then said, “I don’t know mean to stick my big nose where it don’t belong, but I guess Niki went home.” He tipped his head and peered at me from under his lashes.
“Yeah, it looks that way. She still won’t answer my calls, either.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t blame her. It’s really my fault.”
“Well, give her time. She’s probably still on the plane — no phones and all. Have you tried calling her friend, what’s her name? Kat?”
“Um, no. I’ve been kind of busy... well, busy having a pity party is more like it, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure, Jesse. I know. I’m not that old.” He touched his fingers to the hair at his temples and smoothed it back. “No gray hairs yet.” He laughed and I gave him a weak smile.
“I remember young love. I had a girl once, a special girl. We met one summer in my hometown, after high school graduation. We hung out at the lake in the evenings, listening to music on the car radio in my Camero, drinking beers I snuck from my dad’s man-cave fridge in the garage. We went everywhere together, did everything together... so in love, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Then, one day, she left.” He paused and shook his head slowly, gazing at the floor like a distant memory had drifted across his mind. “I never thought I would lose her, never planned on that.”
“Why’d she leave?”
He shrugged. “We had a fight. Over something stupid, I don’t even remember now what it was we argued about. But I learned the hard way, Jesse. I never went after her. I should have run after her, but instead I let my male ego get in the way. If I could go back in time, live my life over, I would do things differently. I would buy her flowers, tell her I was to blame and beg her to stay. Instead, I have to sit here and tell you this story of an amazing girl— the one who got away. Take it from me, Jess, don’t make the same mistake I did. Go after Niki and win her back.”
“But what about training? There’s still a week of work and I need...”
“Don’t worry about one week. Just go back and get your girl. You’ll kick yourself if you don’t.”
“Coach, I don’t know what to say. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You wait and see. I’ll put in extra training sessions. I know of a place...”
“Slow down, slow down. Focus on one thing at a time. Just go back and get your girl.” I left him chuckling and rubbing his forehead again as I went flying out of the rattling RV door.