The Holeshot

by Lynn Michaels

  Tyler looked out across the crowd. The majority were lined up to get their two seconds with Davey McAllister, Supercross Wonderboy. His coming out only seemed to make them want more, but someone out there didn’t like it and they made themselves clear on that. He suspected Cole and Shannon first, but Stewart was right, they didn’t do it themselves, and Tyler knew the team; they wouldn’t have been involved. At least the majority of them wouldn’t, they had been his friends even if they didn’t exactly stand up for him when the shit went down. He couldn’t see them destroying property over it.

  43

  Round 3 Race

  Early Thursday morning, Angel called a team meeting at the newly painted RV. Contracts with Apex had been signed and Angel had taken time to order gear, parts, pay for gas, and get the RV repainted with a huge Apex logo that had been re-designed with Davey’s race number and new colors. He still had red and blue for the primary colors, but streaks of neon yellow had been added. The color had been taken from Apex’s logo and changed everything just enough to be able to keep the colors. The lawyers at Apex had been involved to make sure they didn’t tread over Princeton’s previous claims, but colors couldn’t have a copyright except within particular logos. They’d changed it enough to be different, but still be recognizably Davey. He kept his number since that came from Supercross and was attached to Davey, personally. Angel said a silent prayer on that one, because Davey refused to race under any other number. Twenty-seven or nothing.

  She tapped on the RV door, waiting for the “Come in” and then opened it and climbed up the aluminum step.

  “Hey, guys!” she called, sliding into the table across from Davey and Tyler. They sat close together, probably holding hands under the table. Angel bit back a giggle. They were too cute.

  Stewart was already there along with Tony, the RV driver, and Luke, their new driver for the bike trailer. “So, let’s get started,” Steward said a bit impatiently.

  Angel scowled at him. She would much rather have him take over all the management responsibilities, but he still had not been released from his non-compete with Princeton. “Shut up,” she smirked at him, trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t his fault all this happened, either. When he smiled at her, knowingly, she continued, “Okay, so…Luke and Tony are going to act like bodyguards as well as drivers, protecting their respective vehicles. I know you aren’t happy about it, but I’m hiring two professional bodyguards as well. They’ll be here by the end of the day.”

  “This is overkill, right? I mean, we haven’t be threatened, have we?” Davey asked.

  Angel pursed her lips, debating on how much to say, and ending up where she started. “I’m gonna lay it out for you. There hasn’t been direct threats, but there have been emails, twitter and Facebook posts, and other things that while not threatening have used hateful language. Plus, the way Shannon bumped into Tyler after the last race.” She shrugged. She didn’t think she needed to remind them of the graffiti.

  Davey exhaled loudly. “I want Tyler protected. Okay? No matter what else.”

  Tyler bumped Davey’s shoulder with his own. “Ditto.”

  “See?” Angel asked. “We’re on the same page then. At least for now.” Everyone agreed; relieved, Angel continued, “So, next thing is Brad. We still can’t have him, but we do get Tim.” She smiled hoping that little piece of news would make them at least a little happier about the situation.

  “That’s what I figured,” Davey said with a small grin. “Princeton sucks. Are they ever going to let my people go?” He threw his hands in the air, mockingly.

  “Shut up,” Tyler giggled.

  “It’s just going to take time, Davey,” Stewart jumped in. “Both of our contracts have been sent to Apex lawyers who are working on everything.”

  Angel smiled at him. Stewart knew a lot more about the legal stuff than she did and she happily deferred to him. “Just remember, Stewart doesn’t work here. He’s not getting paid. He’s just hanging out with his friends. Okay?”

  When the room settled down again, Tyler asked, “Can I get a junior mechanic to help me? This is a lot of work.”

  “Is that a necessity?” Angel asked, not questioning Tyler’s opinion as much as wanting to make sure he thought it through.

  Davey answered for him. “It is. It’s almost unheard of to only have one mechanic. Especially since I have so little help in the box. I was going to ask Ty to help with that, at least until Stewart can come back on board. No offense, Angel, but you don’t know what you’re doing there. I also need someone in the mechanic area on the track. He can’t be in two places at once, plus keep up with the maintenance on the bike.”

  She knew he was right. Davey needed someone in the manager’s box to help run the show. They could hire someone new, but there was also a trust factor involved. Stewart was the best man for the job, but he couldn’t do it yet. Otherwise, it should go to Tyler. He at least knew the sport. He rode himself, lived and breathed Supercross. Hiring another mechanic was the lesser of the two evils. “Yeah. You’re right. Got anyone in mind?”

  Tyler’s smile stretched across his face bigger than the Grand Canyon and brighter than a star. She should have known he already had someone in mind before he ever asked. “Hell, yeah. Mickey Hun. I trust him and we work great together.”

  Davey squirmed in his seat a little. “Is he ready for this, Ty?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t have said him, if I didn’t think so.”

  Davey bit at his bottom lip, nervously, making Angel wonder if something else was going on. Was Davey jealous? “Why? What is it?” she asked.

  Davey looked down, rapping his knuckles on the table. “He’s from Cole’s camp. I know you knew him before that, Ty. I just want to be sure before we bring someone in from there that we don’t make more trouble with them if they think we stole him away.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you that, just don’t say no because you’re jealous,” Tyler snapped. “He’s cute and all but he’s totally straight, Davey.”

  “It’s not that,” Davey answered, but he didn’t meet Tyler’s gaze and he cleared his throat.

  Angel had a feeling he was lying. “We just can not have any trouble. Understand? If we can’t get him without causing a fuss with KTM, we pass. If this is personal, Davey, you need to decide whether you can get over it.”

  Davey’s face turned red. “I’m a professional. No matter what else. Mickey’s a decent choice and he hasn’t been with them long. Fuck. Just talk to him and feel out the situation, Ty.”

  Angel sighed. She had never wanted all of this. Looking over at Stewart, she asked, “Is that all?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Just one last thing.” He pointed at Davey and Tyler. “Do not go anywhere alone. The bodyguards might not be here until late tonight or tomorrow. We work on the buddy system until then. Once they get here, they’re your buddies. Do not leave them. Got it?” His words were strict, tight, but caring. Angel could see him as a father and she swore she felt her hormones kick into overdrive right there and then.

  She tamped it down, getting on with business. “I got your practice time set this afternoon, Davey, then, as you know, track-walk is first thing tomorrow. You know what to do.” She leaned over, ruffling Davey’s dark hair before making her way out the door. He was such a good kid. Despite the growing pains of this new responsibility, she was happy she could help him and would do it all again in a heartbeat.

  Tyler waited until the bike was offloaded from the trailer with Luke’s help to grab his cell and call Mickey. He wanted his friend on his team and away from Cole and his crap. He wanted Andy, too, but he could only take one and Mickey was the right choice. He’d known Mickey longer, plus Mickey was in the right place in his career to make this kind of move. Andy led the 450 team for Cole and Shannon, he’d never want to take a step back, but this would be more responsibility for Mickey.

  “Yo! Ty! Your man racing this weekend?”

  “Fuck yeah! What do you think? He’s loafing? Hell
no. He has a new sponsor putting out some bucks.”

  “That’s great.” Mickey sounded genuinely happy.

  “So, what? Are you at the track yet? Can you get away?”

  “I’m here. Waiting for Cole to get some practice in and tell me how the bike is. I have maybe ten to fifteen minutes.”

  “Can you come down here?” Tyler asked, knowing Mickey would know he meant to Davey’s garage area. “You can’t miss the place. Huge red and blue Apex banner.”

  “I saw that hideous thing. What’s with the yellow? Gawd!”

  “Shut up. That’s winner’s gold man.”

  Mickey laughed hard, just the response Tyler had been hoping for. “Okay, see you in a minute.”

  Tyler had barely opened his tool set that had arrived that morning, compliments of Kawasaki, when Mickey walked up. Kawasaki wouldn’t give Davey a formal sponsorship, but hinted that they’d help him out with gifts like his new tools and parts as long as he kept winning on one of their bikes.

  “Hey, Ty! What’s up, bro?”

  Tyler nodded his head, indicating Mickey should come in.

  “Boss tools, dude,” he said, standing close enough to smell his sweat and grease from working on the bikes. Tyler liked the familiar odor. He was comfortable here, comfortable with Mickey.

  “Yeah, a gift. Nice, huh?”

  “That why you dragged me down here? To rub my nose in your new toys?”

  Tyler cleared his throat and stuffed his grease rag in his back pocket. Mickey stared at him with a smirk on his face like he knew what was coming. He wore the KTM team shirt looking pristine and professional, while Tyler stood in front of him in an old, wrinkled twenty-seven jersey. Yet, Tyler was the one with the higher position, more power, but maybe not more confidence. At least not where all the politics of the situation were concerned. “No, Mickey. I, uh, I wanted to offer you a job.”

  Mickey tilted his head to the side. “I’m listening. What do ya have in mind?”

  “Well, the title would still be junior mechanic, and I’d match your pay with KTM, but you’ll have a lot more responsibility.”

  “A lot more work.”

  “Yep. Didn’t think you were afraid of work. This is a small team, you know.”

  “How small?”

  “What do you think? We have a great sponsor, but we’re being very careful who we work with and what we spend.”

  “How small?” he asked again, but at least he didn’t sound annoyed.

  “You and me.”

  “Dude? Are you sure?”

  “It’s just one bike.” Tyler shrugged and gestured to Davey’s bike. “Well, we do have a backup. I left it on the trailer. We won’t unload it unless we have to.”

  Mickey walked over to the bike, eyeing it. They both knew Davey was first in points and favored to win the championship this season, unless something catastrophic happened. As far as Tyler was concerned something already happened and they overcame it quickly. He hoped Mickey would see the resourcefulness of it. “You want to be on the winning team, right?”

  “You think? Davey’s gonna take it this year, huh?” he teased.

  “Fucking straight. So, you want to be that mechanic that helps get him there or do you want to keep fucking around with dicks like Cole?”

  Mickey laughed and brushed his thick dark hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears, giving Tyler a better view of his almond shaped eyes. “Cole is a dick, that’s for sure.”

  “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Hold on,” Mickey said, holding up a hand to stop Tyler’s words. “KTM is a stable team with four riders. Andy is lead on the 450s, and there’s only one other junior mechanic. I stand to grow there. Dick or no dick, Cole’s on a good team.”

  “He’s never going to win a championship.”

  Mickey shrugged. “Davey will win, scrappy bastard. I’m sure of that for now.” He pointed toward the main track. “He’s king out there. Again, for now. But, what about next year? Or the next? This sponsor helps, but they’re new too.”

  “Yes, but we have a two year contract. After that? I don’t know. You’ll be head mechanic by then or we may pick up another rider. I don’t know. Davey might or might not retire, but I’m not going to. I don’t want to. So, maybe we’ll be in a position to have new riders, write our own ticket. You and me.” He pointed at Mickey and then thumbed his chest.

  “Hmm. I like you, Ty. You know that, bro.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  Mickey looked at his feet and shook his head. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think it will cause a lot of shit with KTM?”

  “No. My employment is at-will with them, no contracts. By the way, I do like the new paint on the RV. But that yellow?” He shook his head and laughed.

  Tyler reached over and fake punched him in the chest. “Don’t knock my man’s colors, dude.”

  Mickey reached around and hugged him. “I will think about it, Tyler. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

  “Yep. I know you got skills, bro.”

  They thumped each other’s backs and then Mickey left with a short wave. Tyler thought it went well and hoped Mickey would get on board because he didn’t have another plan. He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d trust Davey’s bikes to. Not even Shorty was welcome in his pit.

  Tyler picked through his tools, inspecting them and getting ready to tweak out Davey’s bike. He quickly lost himself in his task and was surprised when Davey showed up to get the bike for practice.

  “Come with me,” Davey asked.

  “Sure.”

  They walked the bike to the practice track. They still had a few minutes before Davey could get on the track. “Tyler,” he asked as they waited. “After I do my required laps, I want you to do a lap. Then, we can talk about what the bike’s doing.”

  “Something wrong with it?” Tyler asked in a panic.

  “No. No, I won’t know till I ride it either. I want us to be on the same page with it. That’s all.”

  Tyler nodded. “Okay. I like that.” He liked being on the same page as Davey in everything.

  “It’s been performing well. I like this bike a lot. I don’t want to replace it, but this is its second year on the track. You know? Hard wear and tear sometimes.”

  “I get that. Shorty’s done a real good job with her though.”

  “Yeah?” Davey laughed. “Her?”

  Tyler rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  “God, Tyler. We’ve come so far, so fast. Can you even believe it?” They bumped shoulders.

  Davey leaned the bike into Tyler’s hands as he pulled on his helmet and goggles. “We still have a long way to go if people are spray painting our rig and saying mean things about us.”

  “That’s a small percentage, baby.”

  Tyler smiled. “Damn. I love it when you call me that.”

  “Baby, baby, baby. Now move. I’m up.”

  Tyler swatted Davey on the ass before he started up his bike and rode it to the top of the track.

  A voice behind him groaned, “Keep that shit at home, Whitmore.” Tyler turned to see Chad Regal pushing his bike away from the track. “I don’t give a shit what you two get up to, but don’t rub our noses in it. You don’t see me smooching on my girl out here, do ya?”

  Tyler felt his face blush. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “Whatever.” Chad turned his back and kept pushing the bike forward. He hadn’t been nice, but he hadn’t had an attitude that suggested he should be suspected of anything. Tyler wrapped his arms across his chest feeling suddenly exposed, standing there alone. He could only bring himself to half focus on Davey’s ride with his mind and his eyes scanning the area. He didn’t want anyone surprising him, walking up unannounced. Maybe he was being overly paranoid, maybe he was just being cautious. It didn’t matter. Tyler hated feeling afraid. Yep, they still had a long way to go.

  Davey burst out of the gate, hard on the throttle, heart pumping adrenaline through his system
as if he had bionic hydraulics in his body instead of his bike. The humming of engines revving screamed through his head as he approached the first turn, gunning for the holeshot. The track in front of him was clear, the dirt just begging for Davey to tear it up.

  Another bike pushed into him, someone clipped his rear tire and he fell over into the padded barrier, his bike turning at an unwanted angle. Had he not been wearing boots, it probably would have took his foot off. As it was, he felt throbbing pain in his ankle, high-pitched and squawking like engine of his bike ringing in his ears.

  Davey didn’t waste time worrying about the ankle; he let anger push more adrenaline through his system and climbed back on his bike. He’d need to fight through the pack to get back to the front. He knew he needed to concentrate, so he pushed the thoughts about killing Shannon to the back of his head. That bastard had plowed into him, and Davey knew he did it on purpose. He hated riders that played that way, making the track unsafe and bringing a bad reputation to the sport. Davey swallowed hard, eyeing the rhythm section ahead of him, and pushing any other thought out of his head.

  The dirt on this track felt great under his bike, tasted like home in his mouth, and smelled like something he knew lived inside him along with the blood in his veins. Davey embraced the dirt, the jumps, the turns, and he dug into the ruts throttling hard. He clawed his way up the track, passing other riders in the air and around tight curves. He liked racing from the front of the pack, but knew how to scramble his way through the pack, too.

  A few laps in, and he glanced at the tower. Tyler was there giving him signals, letting him know he was gaining on the leaders. He pushed harder, taking a triple jump with massive air, probably over 70 feet. His bike screamed through the next turn, banked and rutted, he cut it tight, passing another rider. He thought it was Tate, but he wasn’t sure and he sure as hell wasn’t looking back to find out.

  He took the left side of the whoop section, and noticed the black number 13 on the back of a red and white jersey. Cole Lindt.