Dyson’s eyes flashed open. “Thatta boy, Arch. He’s a true legend.”
***
The next morning, after a restless sleep, I ambled downstairs and met Dyson at the café, where we feasted at the breakfast buffet.
With time to kill before the race, we decided to head over to The Galleria on Al Maryah Island in the city for some luxury shopping.
As we walked through the Galleria’s sky-lit corridors, my eyes fixed on the latest Apple Watch.
I bought one for Gus. It’d be a challenge teaching him how to use it… but I knew he’d love it.
Dyson bought some sneakers—for his ever-growing collection—and then we demolished some lunch before deciding to call it a day.
Back at the hotel, we grabbed some ice-cold drinks and took them out onto Dyson’s balcony, cracking up as we talked about our recent adventures.
He talked me through the science behind BioBuild’s success, and it hit me again just how much work he’d invested in the project. Eventually, I called it and went to get ready for the race before heading downstairs.
Dyson was already waiting in the lobby, and as I approached, he proudly wiggled his foot at me, showing off one of his new sneakers.
“Nice. But did you reallyneed a pair in every color?” He stared at me blankly. “Alright, if you’re done flexing your sneakers, let’s go.”
We climbed into the back of the limo, then the driver took us the short distance to the Yas Marina VIP entrance.
We stepped out to find an usher waiting and lines stretching out from the general access gates. Our usher led us straight to our seats, with a panoramic view of the start-finish straight.
“Now there’s a man who knows how to drive.” Dyson tipped his head subtly toward the familiar blond actor near the barrier and chuckled. “Remember when we watchedRush? ”
“Yeah,” I grinned. “Maybe he’ll jump behind the wheel of one of the cars today.”
The sun was setting, a golden light lit up the track, casting a radiant glow over the stadium as the pre-race grid walk began.
A few of the drivers came into view, headphones on as they got into the zone for the race.
When fan-favorite Diego Tierra walked out, a deafening roar rang out all around.
Archie followed behind Diego before a commentator stopped him and asked how he was feeling about the race.
Stooping over, he leaned into the microphone. “I’m very grateful to be here, you know?” He smiled humbly. “And I can’t wait to get out there.”
“Go, Archie!” Dyson yelled, but the excited shouts from the crowd drowned him out.
The drivers lined up on the grid, motionless, and the audience stood at attention as the United Arab Emirates national anthem blasted over the crowd.
A group of Etihad Airways flight attendants, smartly dressed in full uniform, stood across from the lineup.
Holding the outer edges of a huge UAE flag, they kept it stretched flat toward the sky. The Police Ceremonial Guard, intraditional white robes, flanked the flight attendants. All eyes turned skyward.
An Etihad jet, with six fighter planes beneath it, screamed overhead. All eyes tracked it as deafening applause erupted from the stadium.
Each of the planes left a trail of mist in the colors of the flag as the crowd exploded with delight. When the anthem came to an end the drivers left to suit up for the race.
“Dyson, this is next fucking level. Brother, I owe you. Payback starts now. I’m going to get you a cold drinkandsome fries before the race starts.” I chuckled, starting toward the kiosk.
“What?Your generosity is off the charts.” He laughed. “If you throw in some gum, we’ll call it even,” he called out.
Right as the drivers were climbing into their cars for the formation lap, I fell back into my seat, shoving Dyson’s fries and a drink into his outstretched hands.
“Gimme. Hurry, bro, they’re about to kick off,” he said, eyes glued to the start line. “Gum?” He held his hand out flat, his eyes still on the track.
