Hearts Racing (6 page)

Chapter 10

Buck had never been to the coffee shop where LeMond had asked to meet. Meeting there didn’t make much sense, as it was on the west side of the city. Maybe the CrossFit girl lived over on this side of town. But for a building whose business was selling coffee and pastries to the public, it wasn’t particularly welcoming. The doors and windows were darkened with tinting of some kind. The front door had an image of a horned bull on it with the words “
se habla español
” near the bottom. The French might command that all official business be completed in their native language, but they couldn’t do much about the population of Spanish speakers already living in the former US when they conquered it.

The space inside was as dim as you’d expect a room whose windows were tinted so deeply to be. But it looked like your typical café otherwise. People sat here and there, drinking coffee. An enormous man in a filthy white shirt was sitting sideways at the bar so he could still see the door. He glanced at Buck then shifted his eyes around the room to land on LeMond sitting at a brightly colored table with the CrossFit girl. Buck felt his heart racing a bit. Was he that excited to drink some coffee? Sheesh. It wasn’t like he’d never been to a café before.

LeMond gave a nod at the huge man at the bar, and the man went back to working on a piece of paper with a pencil. Buck couldn’t see whether it was a Sudoku puzzle or a crossword, but the man appeared absorbed with it in either case. Buck sat down at the table and said hello. Cute CrossFit girl—Faith? Yes. That was it. Faith— nodded back.

“Don’t worry,” LeMond said. “We can talk freely here.”

That struck Buck as a bit odd. “Is there somewhere we can’t talk freely?” 

LeMond made a shrugging motion and one hand teetered side-to-side. “What I’m about to tell you is, well . . . Just let me tell you. But it’s good news. Well, mostly.” At this last part he flicked his eyes to Faith, who looked down at the table. “Why don’t you tell him, honey?”

Faith was sitting with her elbows crossed on the table. She crossed them a bit tighter around her body and nodded. “I’m engaged.”

Buck felt slightly cold. They really needed to put the heat on in this place. “Congratulations.” 

Faith took a sip of her coffee. From her face, it wasn’t very good coffee. “You don’t congratulate the bride,” she said quietly.

Buck barely understood the words over the sound of a futbol game playing on a TV screen behind the bar. “Don’t congratulate?”

Faith shook her head, probably to get over the taste of the coffee. “Just something my grandmother used to say. But yeah. No. I’m engaged, and my gym is closed.”

“Oh, wow. So you’re marrying up, then? Who’s the lucky guy?” Buck said, smiling.

LeMond broke in before Faith could respond. “Remember Barker? From last night?”

“The asshole future Mayor of New Lyon who closed our cycling program? Yeah, I remember him. I’d like to ride right over his nuts, I’ll tell you that.” Buck noticed LeMond was staring at him for some reason. Wait. No. Surely not. “Surely not,” Buck said.

Faith nodded. “So you’ve met my fiancé.”

“You?” Buck started. “But,” he said. “Um,” he said. “Buh?” he said.

“He also closed my gym,” Faith said.

“Closed your gym? But that’s your life!” Buck said. LeMond made a patting motion in the air to indicate he should chill out. But what the hell? Why would a nice girl—well, nice for one of those CrossFit weirdos anyway—marry a dream-wrecking merde-face like Barker?

Faith looked like she might cry. Buck had gone too far. He felt shame, reached a hand out to put on her shoulder, but stopped himself. He didn’t think he knew her that well. He reached out anyway. Touched her shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind, but LeMond was smirking oddly for some reason so Buck removed the hand.

“It’s my brother,” she said. “You remember? He’s in trouble. He could be executed. Barker says he can help him, get him released. But now I’m out of work and the city is contacting me about going to work for the dairies or a winery. Just my luck. Cheese doesn’t fit my primal diet at all.”

Buck couldn’t help himself. “Hah, yeah, primal,” he said with a chuckle. Faith glared at him. “Oh, you were serious.”

“What’s wrong with eating primal?” she said.

“Nothing if you want type II diabetes. Gotta eat Paleo.”

“Guys,” LeMond said.

“I don’t have type II diabetes,” Faith said.

“Guys, please can we stay on track here?” LeMond asked, trying again. “It’s not really the time to argue about your ketogenic diets.”

“Keto’s a different thing entirely,” Faith and Buck both said at the same time. They shared a look. Buck smiled.

LeMond put his hands up again for calm. “Okay, fine, whatever. Listen. Faith needs a job or she’s going to have to go to work for the French.”

“Shame we don’t have a cycling program anymore,” Buck said. His smile faded at the memory. It was his turn to look down at the table now. It was covered in a cracked tile mosaic depicting what was probably meant to be the sun.

“Ah, but we do,” LeMond said.

Buck looked up. “We do?”

LeMond nodded. “The three of us are now on the Miami Cycling Team.”

Buck laughed ruefully. “Yeah, right.”

But LeMond had his no-really-I-mean-it face on. Eyebrows up. “The three of us are going to start this week, training and healing you to race at Nationals.”

“Nationals?” Buck asked, but then he thought about it, and said, slowly, “Yeah . . . Nationals!”

With the New Lyon cycling program closed, there might not even be a series of regional races to determine the first and second place regional teams who could compete in the Tour de Neauvelle-France. The second-place team would automatically be Miami, as the largest city. Each region got to bring two teams. But the Miami cycling program was a joke. “But how can we compete as Miami?”

LeMond did a little side-to-side movement in his seat. “It’s going to take some work. They have a couple of riders, but Florida is completely flat, so they aren’t much good at climbing. And we’ll have to train in secret so they don’t find some political way to shut us out.”

“LeMond is going to get me employed as his assistant,” Faith said, “training some athletes down near the coast. Hopefully Barker goes for it.” 

Buck’s mouth worked without checking in with his brain first. “Wait, you expect to train a team of unknown riders to protect me, at Nationals, using CrossFit?”

“And why not?” Faith asked, sounding a bit offended.

Now Buck’s hands went up. “I’m not being mean. I’m just asking. Cycling training is all about, well, training on a bicycle. Has nothing to do with jumping around and pullups and whatnot.”

“There is a lot more. To CrossFit. Than jumping. Around,” Faith said, speaking the words precisely to indicate that she meant every one of them.

“Circumstance demands that we go at this totally sideways,” LeMond said. “All the usual methods are out the window, and that means we need an ace in the hole. And there it is.” He pointed at Faith, who looked defiant. Her eyes flashed and her nose faired. Her face flushed, too, but not in an embarrassed way. More in an if-there’s-going-to-be-a-fight-I-want-to-be-in-it sort of a way. Buck couldn’t help but notice that her lips were finely sculpted. It would probably be kind of not bad to kiss her—

“Buck?” LeMond asked.

“What? Shit. Yes. Ace in the hair. Okay, fine, whatever. I’m just saying it’s irregular is all.”

“Ace in the hair?” Faith asked.

“I said whatever! How do we do it?” Buck said, sounding a bit more demanding than he probably should.

“Leave all that to me,” LeMond said. “You just concentrate on healing and being ready to ride. For now, I want you to meet someone.” LeMond looked around then waved at the man at the bar. Buck was prepared to stand and shake the man’s hand, but the man didn’t move except to reach into a pocket and withdraw a phone. He made a call, said a few words, then nodded and went back to whatever he was working on at the bar.

Momentarily, a man appeared from behind the bar. He was trim, athletic-looking, and had intense eyes that peered out of a brown complexion that was like fine wood. He came over to the table, and LeMond introduced him. “This is Miguel Costilla, our patron from Miami,”

Miguel Costilla smiled. “Actually I am not from Miami, but I am representing certain interests there in this venture,” he said, holding out his hand to Buck. “You must be Buck Heart. Such a pleasure to meet you
, señor
.” He spoke with a refined Spanish accent that made Buck want to say “Wow! Nice accent.” He resisted the urge.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Monsieur Costilla,” Buck said.

Costilla smiled again, showing perfect teeth. “Please, please. Call me Miguel. And you must be Faith Racing. I have heard much of your training. You certainly look effective.”

“Thank you, Miguel,” Faith said, smiling. “Won’t you join us?”

“Unfortunately I cannot,” Miguel said, looking genuinely disappointed. “I just wanted to meet you and let you know that you will have everything you need to succeed. I personally guarantee it.”

“Thank you, Miguel,” LeMond said. “We will do our best.”

“I know you will,” Miguel said, smiling again. “Now I must take my leave, but we will see each other again in a few days at the facility.” He gave another smile and looked at each of them, deftly taking his leave. Buck had met few people that polite in his life.

When Miguel had disappeared again, the table was quiet a moment. Then Faith said, “What facility?”

“We have a new facility, where we’ll do our training for the next couple of weeks. A couple of riders are already down there getting things ready for us.”

“In Miami?” Buck asked. That would be troublesome. A long drive all the way down there. What would that take? Fourteen hours in the car?

LeMond was excited. “No. Near Valdosta. Well, sort of near. Far enough away that we’ll be out of sight from prying New Lyon eyes, anyway.”

“How am I going to get permission to be in Valdosta? Barker—I mean, my fiancé, will never go for that,” Faith said.

LeMond gave a wry smile. “I think you might be surprised. He’s going to be very busy over the next few weeks. They’ll be grooming him for his election to mayor. Just tell him you’ll be working with me to train some geriatrics for a few weeks. He won’t know the difference.”

“Are you sure?” Faith asked. She didn’t look like she thought Barker would buy it.

“Positive,” LeMond said. “Miguel has . . . Well, he has access to information. We can trust him. And he thinks it’ll be fine.”

Buck felt a bit uneasy. That Miguel guy seemed plenty nice and all, but it sounded like they were trusting him with a lot of this operation. But if he could help get them on the road and riding in Nationals, it would be worth it no matter what it took.

“When do we start?” Buck asked.

Chapter 11

Faith hadn’t questioned LeMond further when he’d said that Barker would allow her to be gone for a couple of weeks. She’d thought LeMond simply didn’t know Barker that well and was talking out his ass. Now that they were engaged, Barker was simply fixated. He wanted to know where she was and what she was doing a couple of times a day. But she trusted LeMond enough to give it a try anyway. She’d lose nothing by asking. He’d already closed her gym. What else could he do?

To her amazement, LeMond had been absolutely right. She’d said she was going to be working to train some geriatrics out of town for a few weeks, and Barker had barely even looked up from his computer. She’d gone to his office to talk to him about it face-to-face rather than calling, thinking it might work better than a phone call. And she wore her beret and a nautical striped shirt so she’d look as French as possible and thus hopefully appear to be the future wife Barker wanted her to be. But he hadn’t even looked at her, really. She’d just said she would be out of town for a few weeks, and he’d said okay, fine, and that he’d miss her.

Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She’d better go on and get going before he realized what she’d said. She left, then went back to her own flat to pack, expecting the whole time to get a text or a call from Barker saying “Wait, what? Where are you going? No chance!” But the call never came.

She rode to the facility in LeMond’s car, with Buck’s bike on the back and Buck himself in the front seat.

The drive was nice, and the hours passed easily with the excitement of a new adventure and the possibility of a good result at Nationals.

“LeMond, have you seen the Nationals entry list?” Buck asked. “Do you know who we’re up against?”

“No one you can’t handle,” LeMond said. Faith noted to herself that he hadn’t really answered the question.

Buck noticed it too. “Heh, okay, but have you seen the list?”

“We’re here!” LeMond declared.

They’d been driving down increasingly worse roads for the last few minutes, LeMond steering the car off the highway to surface streets, then through a small town’s industrial area, out of the town on a two-lane road, then onto what was little more than a dirt track. They’d ended up at a fence across the dirt road that looked like it hadn’t moved in a hundred years. All around, huge trees and dense underbrush pressed close to the road. The trees were hung with a grey moss that looked like thick curly hair.

To the left of the fence, there was a box on a pole. On the front of the box was a keypad so old it looked like it couldn’t possibly transmit anything except possibly a skin disease. But LeMond jabbed at a few buttons anyway, and the gate began to draw to the side with barely a sound.

Faith was surprised that the gate moved at all, let alone soundlessly. Someone must be oiling it regularly, just not cleaning it. Maybe they wanted it to look old like that. Hmm.

LeMond drove through the gate, following the road as it took an immediate left to avoid a barrier of concrete. If someone tried to crash in here, Faith thought, they’d get through the gate but not through that barrier.

She began to feel a bit uneasy. It was as if this place were trying to look unused but was actually something else. She tried not to think about it. At least she’d be working again.

LeMond stopped the car in a courtyard surrounded by a few concrete buildings with corrugated metal roofs. They looked like they’d been built for purpose more than for aesthetics, but the huge, mossy trees arching over them gave the whole scene a look that was not without appeal.

Double doors in the building closest opened, and a man stepped out. He was thin but moved like an athlete. Faith spotted it at once. “He looks like a cyclist,” she said.

“Sure does,” Buck said.

“Why don’t you get out and meet him?” LeMond asked, smiling.

They did. He turned out to be Jose, one of the Miami riders. Jose’s English wasn’t great, and he spoke no French at all, but he smiled and waved them through the doors. Inside, Faith gasped. They’d just walked into a fully outfitted gym with gleaming top-of-the-line equipment she’d never been able to afford at her old place. Everything was there: Power racks, pullup bars, parallel rings, climbing ropes, and racks upon racks of free weights.

“I could train an army with all this stuff!” she said.

Jose looked wide eyed. Perhaps he hadn’t understood her.

LeMond laughed. “Well you won’t have to train an army,” he said with a chuckle. “Just a bunch of unruly cyclists. Might be worse! Come on, Jose, show Buck the cycling room.”

Through another door, there was a room more or less like the one Faith had seen at the old New Lyon facility. The racks of bikes here were smaller, and made of wood instead of the metal ones back in New Lyon, but there seemed to be every kind of tool you could ever want.

“Who’s going to be working on our bikes?” Buck asked.

“That’s one thing we weren’t really able to find,” LeMond said. “So, I’ll be your mechanic in addition to team director. And you do most of your own maintenance anyway, right?”

Buck nodded. To Faith, he didn’t seem fazed by this news. Obviously he just wanted to ride. He was a competitor. She could respect that.

“Do we have bikes?” Buck asked. The racks were empty.

“We do, they’re just out on a training ride at the moment,” LeMond said, and then, upon hearing noise outside the door, added, “Ah! Here they are.”

An outside door do this room opened, and riders on green, white, and red bikes entered. They were sweaty and breathing hard, but smiling. Buck looked envious to Faith. He’d been off the bike for a few days now. He must be crazy to get back in the saddle and ride by now. She knew what it was like to have to go a few days without training. It could be hell.

Introductions went around. In addition to Jose, there was Hidalgo, Antonio, Hector, and the twins Alfredo and Alfonso. Buck shook all their hands, smiling and talking shop as much as was possible through the language barrier. They all racked their bikes up and headed for the showers. Buck was still smiling.

“They don’t look bad do they?” LeMond asked.

“They don’t,” Buck agreed. “But I haven’t seen them ride yet.”

“Just wait. You think you’ve seen heart, but these kids will blow your mind.”

“We’ll see,” Buck said. “Now what?”

“Now I believe the kitchen has a dinner for us,” LeMond said, rubbing his hands together.

The “kitchen” turned out to be Alfredo and Alfons
o’s mother, Miriam. She’d prepared a feast fit for a wedding. A big one, by Faith’s reckoning. There was steak, chicken, corn, black beans, and enough freshly made guacamole to fill a giant novelty sombrero. Faith couldn’t bring herself to eat corn tortillas, since the corn was probably genetically modified. Only god knew what horrible effects that might have on her body. Instead, she enjoyed a delicious burrito, with a piece of lettuce instead of a tortilla. Even though there was a language barrier, everyone at the table was laughing and pointing like they’d known each other for years.

After they ate, the Miami team members cleared the dishes, and Jose appeared from the kitchen with a tray covered in shot glasses and a bottle.

“Oh no,” Buck said. “Not tequila. I can’t drink that.”

“Aw loosen up, Buck,” LeMond said, standing. “It’s tradition. They’re trying to welcome you and Faith.”

“Where are you going?” Faith asked.

“I have to head back to New Lyon before it gets too late. Tie up a few things. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll get started. You guys have fun.”

The Miami team distributed glasses around the table, not bothering to ask Faith or Buck if they wanted to drink any. Faith considered it. She didn’t want to be rude. “Jose, what kind of tequila is that?”

“Tequila?” he asked. “This is not just tequila. This is
añejo
!”

“
Añejo
!” the twins echoed together, laughing and slapping each other on the back.

“What’s
añejo
?” Faith asked.

Jose looked thoughtful for a moment then set the tray down. “A bike race is a bike race. This is tequila. But the Tour is the Tour, yes?”

“Yes,” Buck said. His tone rose a bit to indicate he was following Jose’s logic.

Jose gestured with one hand heavenward. “The Tour?” he said, and then gestured to the bottle. “
Añejo
.”

The twins looked at each other. Everyone knew it was coming, so a few of the other rides joined them. “
Añejo
!” they cried. Everyone laughed.

Faith didn’t know much about the Tour de France except that the French were all wild about it like it was the CrossFit Games, the Olympics, and Christmas Day all put together. But she liked to think she knew a good time when she was having one, and she was having one. The pressures of the past few weeks were behind her, in New Lyon. Here there were only smiles, happy faces, and a sun setting through these gorgeous trees.

“I’ll have some,” she said, surprising herself.

Jose beamed. “Yes!” he said, pouring a shot. He slid it across the table to her, and she took it carefully. He’d filled it to the brim.

Everyone was looking at Buck now. “Aw, what the hell,” he said, a grin wedging itself sideways onto his face. “Pour me one too.”

The Miami riders all cheered like they’d just won a race, and everyone drank their shots down together. Faith drank hers in one gulp in case the taste was terrible. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by spewing it everywhere if it was revolting. She didn’t have a lot of experience with tequila, but she’d heard it could be harsh. She expected to screw her face into a scowl and endure the aftertaste, but . . . it was so good! Sure, it had a kick, but she could feel the warmth spreading in her chest. The lingering taste in her mouth was like butter mixed with electricity and some kind of other crazy ingredients she couldn’t even imagine.

She looked at Buck. He was smiling too. He held his shot glass out and looked at it as though it’d just said something unexpectedly poignant.

“Hoo,” he breathed. “That was good.”

“
Uno mas
?” Jose asked, his smile rakish.

“
Uno maaaasss
,” Hector said in a low voice, pounding the table with his fists excitedly.

“Sorry?” Faith asked.

“Another?” Jose said. 

Faith was uncertain. She’d allowed herself one, but two was another matter. And by the way her chest was warming, that stuff was high-powered. You wouldn’t want to use it to try to put out a fire. In fact, she’d be careful not to breathe near any open flame for the next couple of hours.

“Hell yeah!” Buck said. Murmurs of approval echoed around the table.

Well. Faith refused to be the not-fun-Nancy/only-girl of the bunch, so she nodded.

The second shot went down even better than the first. Faith was ready to savor the warmth and the taste this time, and to feel the glow spread. But good sense prevailed, and she said no to a third. If she had a third, she’d pretty much be drunk, and that was unprofessional. She didn’t want to be a stick-in-the-spokes, but she was also here in a professional context. It would be bad form.

Buck laughed about something one of the riders had done. They were making each other laugh with their animated Spanish, but most of it came through thanks to wild gesticulations and the odd English word. Buck’s laugh sounded like a saxophone, or a bassoon. It was so sonorous and musical. Faith smiled just listening to it, and those eyes of his that ought to be banned for being too green flashed. Under the table, his legs moved as he laughed, and his knee came to rest against her leg. She didn’t move hers.

She was smiling for no reason whatsoever. Who smiles for no reason at all? Happy people, she guessed. Buffoons, maybe. Idiots? She didn’t care.

She waited for a lull, choosing her moment, and then said clearly as she held her glass aloft, “Uno mas!”

The Miami riders all screamed with surprise, laughter, and approval, and Jose filled her glass once again. She drank it down in a smooth motion and yelled along. Buck’s bassoon laugh sounded again, tolling across the table and out into the night.

After the laughter died down, everyone sat around smiling, feeling full and happy. Sundown had given way to night, and a chain of yawns crept around the table.

Jose showed them where they’d be sleeping, in the same building where the kitchen and dining area was. It was situated at right angles to the building that housed the gym and bike room. The rooms were small, dormitory style, but seemed clean and comfortable enough. They were paired around bathrooms so that each room shared those facilities with another. Buck and Faith would be sharing a bathroom.

That was weird, Faith thought, but if she had to share a bathroom with someone, she was glad it was someone who could fully understand English. She just hoped Buck was clean. Of course, she had no reason to think he wasn’t. He certainly smelled good. But like any adult, she appreciated clean facilities. She knew, though, that men were occasionally not so attuned to matters of cleanliness. Her brother had probably never cleaned a bathroom in his life, and it was a small wonder that he’d never been killed by a wasting disease picked up the toilets in his pigsty of an apartment.

Jose completed the tour of the dormitory area by showing them a veranda at the end of the hallway of rooms. It didn’t have much of what you’d call a view, since it looked out into the trees, but the effect was like being in a tree house for grownups. Jose then retreated into his own room and began settling himself for sleep. The other riders were closing doors and running water.

Faith was definitely feeling sleepy as she went back into her room. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and then stood next to her bed, looking at it. As soon as she lay down in that bed, she’d be asleep. No doubt about it. Why not go back out on the veranda again? The moon might be up by now. She bet it would be beautiful.

Buck’s side of the bathroom was closed and the light was out. He must have just lain down in his clothes and gone to sleep. She couldn’t blame him. What with his injuries, whatever lingering soreness he might have, and the tequila, he was probably exhausted. She poked her head into the hallway, and the doors were all closed. Light streamed out around the edges of a few doors, but they appeared to be closed for the night. She walked quietly down the hall, feeling silly for being quiet since it was just as much her dormitory as the riders. But she stayed quiet just the same.