Furious Rush

by S. C. Stephens

  “Great race, Kenzie! Thirteenth! For your first Daytona, that’s amazing!”

  I looked over to see Nikki entering the shop. I couldn’t help but cringe at her praise. “Amazing? Did you happen to miss my epic crash on the last turn?” Anger and disappointment darkened my voice. “I wouldn’t exactly call that amazing.” More like incredibly foolish and amateurish. I should have known better than to attempt something like that. What the hell had I been thinking? I was going to agonize over my decision all night long; it would be a miracle if I even slept tonight.

  Nikki grimaced. “Oh, yeah…that…Are you okay?”

  Ignoring the head-to-toe ache, I shrugged. “Right as rain.”

  Her eyes shifted to my bike resting on its mat. “And the Ducati?” Her worried expression settled into one of deeper concern as she surveyed my motorcycle. She looked so much like a mother hen inspecting her injured chick that it was almost comical. Her dark eyes roved over the surface, lingering on the spot where I’d scraped the cement. I could tell she really wanted to walk over there and assess the damage, but the rules stipulated that the bike couldn’t be touched until after the postrace inspection.

  Almost as if to distract herself from the temptation sitting in front of her, she wrenched her gaze away and said, “You hear what happened to Jimmy?” Her expression brightened as she began to indulge in her second-favorite thing to do on the track: gossip about the riders.

  “No. The officials forced him to start at the back of the grid, but I never heard why.” Even though Jimmy was a douche for leaving, he was way too good to start at the back of the pack. What he could have possibly done to get the officials on his ass was a mystery to me.

  I removed the band holding my hair in a ponytail and attempted to fluff the waves back into shape. It was difficult, since my head was so sweaty; I looked like I’d just taken a shower. Nikki handed me a towel so I could dry off my face. “He had a battery charger plugged in while refueling his bike after the sighting lap. Can you believe it?”

  I understood her dumbfounded expression. Doing something as stupid as committing a safety infraction was almost unheard of for a racer of Jimmy’s experience. Rules like that were drilled into us constantly by John and my father, but even if they hadn’t been, it was common sense: Gas fumes plus a spark from a battery charger equaled huge explosion. Weird, and yet…kind of karmic. He should have stayed with us. “Wow…stupid mistake. Where did he end up?”

  Nikki’s expression was amused, like she was thinking it was cosmic payback too. “Twenty-fourth. He just never recovered. Must have plagued him all race…” Biting her lip, she eyed my bike again.

  I clapped her on the shoulder as I headed for a chair; I really needed to rest my ankle. “Leave the bike. We don’t need to be hampered by some stupid penalty like Jimmy.” As I sat down, I added under my breath, “My mistake was bad enough.”

  Turning around, Nikki put her hands on her hips. “Thirteenth isn’t a horrible finish, Kenzie. In fact, I think it’s pretty outstanding for your first time on this track.”

  Yes, I supposed it was, but that opinion wasn’t very comforting at the moment. I’d almost had fifth wrapped up in a bright, shiny bow. I opened my mouth to tell her that, but my father walked in and beat me to it. Giving me a stern look, he told Nikki, “Thirteenth isn’t fifth, which is where she would have ended up if she’d done her job correctly.”

  As Dad turned his gaze to me, I quickly clamped my mouth shut before I said something I regretted. My father’s steel-blue eyes studied me, and his jaw was set in a rigid scowl of disappointment. He didn’t need to verbally admonish me when he had a disapproving jawline like that, but I knew he would. Jordan Cox didn’t let things go. There would be no pat on the back with a “better luck next time” for me; too much was at stake for that. I was going to hear about this race all season long.

  After a deep inhale, I began the pointless process of attempting to defend myself. “I’m sorry…but it is a points race, Dad. I can still get to the top.”

  “Winning the race is the easiest way to get there, Mackenzie, and you know how much we’re counting on you to…” Dad sighed and looked away. The family crest above his heart, proudly displaying our racing logo, was a prominent reminder of the legacy I’d been born into. At the moment, I felt unworthy to carry the Cox name. Dad was right, thirteenth wasn’t good enough. I should have done better.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I really hated how weak I sounded, but what else could I say? I’d fucked up, and we all knew it. Dad had won his first race, and I hadn’t even cracked the top ten. There was nothing to be proud of here.

  The steel in Dad’s eyes returned as he looked at me again. “I’d just like to know what you were thinking, trying to pass on the outside of a turn like that. Accelerating instead of braking? You should have known you wouldn’t be able to hold it.” As he shook his head, I could see the bewilderment in his eyes. “Know your limitations, Mackenzie. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He threw his hand out to indicate my damaged vehicle; Nikki sighed.

  “I thought I could do it,” I said through clenched teeth. Embarrassment and shame washed over me in waves. Why couldn’t we be alone for this conversation? “I’d noticed that Hayd—that number forty-three was leaving more room than usual on his turns, so I thought I’d take a chance and go around him. No risk, no reward…you tell me that a lot too.”

  Dad sighed. “Normally I would agree with you, but in this situation, Mackenzie, it was the wrong call. And to be quite frank with you, I’m shocked that you made it. I thought I’d taught you better.”

  Anger and guilt combined in my chest, flaming my cheeks bright red and stinging my eyes with pinpricks of shame. I choked back tears. I was not about to cry in front of my dad. “It was one bad call in an otherwise perfect race. Don’t I get any credit for what I did right today?”

  Dad shook his head. “No. When the stakes are as high as they are, you don’t get kudos for losing a half dozen places for a mistake that you haven’t made since you were eight years old. You need to be better than your best now that you’re in the professional league. Better than everyone’s best. Impress me, Mackenzie.”

  I pressed my fingertips tight against my thighs as his words shrank me; I felt about an inch tall under his gaze. “That’s what I’m trying to do.” My words wavered with emotion, and I hated it. I wanted to face Dad proud and tall, with nothing but conviction and confidence in my voice, but when his eyes turned stern and his stance turned authoritative, I reverted into that eight-year-old child once more. Always falling short of my father’s expectations.

  Dad’s eyes narrowed as he watched me struggle with the shame, disappointment, and anger. “Control, Mackenzie; you still need to work on your control. You let this new Benneti racer get under your skin, let him force you into a rash decision. I don’t know much about this number forty-three, but I know Keith. If he brought this guy onto his team, he did it for a reason. Keith looks for arrogance, overconfidence, do-anything-to-win hunger. He hires time bombs about to go off, and I’m guessing this…Hayes kid is no different than the rest of his reckless teammates.” With a sigh, he shook his head. “Don’t let them get under your skin, Mackenzie. Focus on the race, not the individual riders. I know it’s difficult, but pretending that the Benneti team isn’t racing beside you is the best thing you can do this year.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that pretending no one was on the track but Hayden had actually driven me to race better than I ever had before, but I knew my father wouldn’t understand, so I stayed silent. Hell, I barely understood why racing against Hayden had sparked something in me.

  Dad examined me before continuing. “I know you think I’m being overly hard on you, but it’s only to get the best performance from you. You’re too good for slipups, and you’re better than what I saw out there.” His words were delivered softly, but they stung just as hard as the asphalt. “I’m going to push you hard this year, but it’s all for you
r betterment, you’ll see. We need a victory, Mackenzie…you know that.” My emotions somersaulted as I stared at him. Yes, I did know that…I was painfully aware of that.

  By his expression I could tell Dad was waiting for a response; I gave him a stiff nod, since that was all I could do at the moment. Pointing to my side, he said, “You landed pretty hard. Go have one of the track doctors take a look at it, then report to the trailer for debriefing. We have a lot more to talk about.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop shaking as I watched him leave. My hands were balled into tight fists, and my eyes were stinging with tears that I refused to let fall. He was right. I’d made a stupid decision out there and I’d paid the price for it. A hefty price. My bike was damaged, my body might be damaged, and most important, I’d missed my chance at landing a record-breaking position that would have had every racing sportscaster talking about me and Cox Racing. But instead I’d slid into a wall at almost sixty miles an hour, and while that moment was sure to be replayed on ESPN over and over, it wasn’t the kind of exposure my family needed right now.

  Looking over at Nikki, I mumbled, “I’m gonna go find a doctor. See you later.” My voice came out with a lot more warble to it than I cared to hear, and Nikki’s gaze was instantly sympathetic; it only made me feel worse.

  Even though my entire leg was beginning to pulsate with pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I took the long way around to find a doctor. My meandering walk took me past the Benneti garage bay. Being so close to the enemy’s headquarters gave me a sick feeling, like I was walking past a leaking nuclear power plant. I didn’t want to look, but my eyes disobediently swept the room. Hayden was by the open garage door, celebrating his glorious fourth-place finish. Or…I thought he was celebrating—his teammates were on the other side of the room, laughing as they opened a bottle of champagne. Hayden was standing by himself, ignoring them. Still no love between them, then. Odd. I would have figured they’d have bonded over Hayden kicking my ass.

  Hayden’s helmet was off, his gloves were gone, and only his boots and riding leathers remained: red and black, like his soul. I did my best to ignore him, to act like I hadn’t spotted him, but with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I saw his green eyes flick to me as I passed by. And then he did the unthinkable. He followed me. Great. After being reprimanded by my dad, I was really not in the mood for Hayden’s crap.

  “Nice race today,” he said as he walked along at my side. I quickly looked around, but no one from the Benneti camp seemed to have realized he’d left. Thank God.

  Wondering if Hayden had meant that sarcastically, I threw him a glare. Surprisingly, the expression on his face seemed genuine—had he meant it? He also looked impressed, like he really hadn’t expected me to be able to hold my own. Asshole. Had he actually believed that I couldn’t race, couldn’t keep up, couldn’t do my job? Did he really think my father had handed this life to me? Even though I didn’t care what he thought of me, that thought surprisingly hurt.

  Glancing down at my side, he asked, “How are you doing after that slide out?”

  Again, I couldn’t tell whether he was blatantly mocking me for my poorly executed attempt to pass him—my multiple failed attempts to pass him, if truth be told—or he was actually concerned, which would be absurd. He couldn’t truly be concerned about me. This was a mind game.

  Stopping suddenly, I spun to face him. Glancing around to make sure no one who knew us was close, I snapped, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  Looking at me like I’d spoken another language, he slowly said, “Um…I thought I was being pretty straightforward. How. Are. You. Doing? What else could those words possibly mean?” He cocked a puzzled eyebrow, then his lip curved up into a half smile. “Are you just pissed that I beat you?”

  Trying very hard not to notice the way his damp hair was sticking up in that messy, carefree look that only Hayden could successfully pull off, I snipped, “You were being a jackass and getting in my way at every opportunity. No, what could possibly piss me off about that? Did you miss the fact that I wasn’t the only rider out there, or were you just too mesmerized by me to notice the forty-plus other racers on the track?”

  His mouth popped open in disbelief. “Oh my God…Are you seriously angry at me for racing defensively?” he snarled. Leaning in toward me, he added, “That’s the name of the game, honey, and if you can’t handle it, then I suggest you find another line of work. Maybe something where you won’t have to worry about breaking a nail.”

  He finished with a smirk that was both infuriating and tantalizing. We were standing so close to each other that a flash of tingles ran across me, like his gaze had physically touched my skin. God, why the hell did racing against him have to feel so…good?

  I stepped away from him, hoping to break the kinetic energy between us. It didn’t help. My voice was shaking when I finally found some words that were kind of civil. “For the hundredth time, don’t call me honey, sweetheart, baby cakes, or sugar pie. My name is—”

  “Mackenzie Cox, of the elite Cox family,” he interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, I know exactly who you are, and exactly why you’re really sore at me. Daddy can give you all the best gear and all the best bikes, but he can’t hand you a win, can he? That, Twenty-Two, you still have to earn.” There was fire in his eyes as he spoke, and heat in his voice. The combination did nothing to squelch the squirming sensation of anticipation that was flaring within me. Cat and mouse. Give and take. Run and chase.

  “Fuck you, Hayden,” I spat, then I turned and stormed away.

  As I was striding off, I heard him shout, “Just pick a time and a place, princess, and I’ll scratch whatever itch you’ve got!”

  * * *

  The track doctor took entirely too long to see me, but once I was done, I was given a clean bill of health. Bruised, raw, a few scratches, yes, but nothing broken and only minor swelling in my ankle. That made me a vision of health in my book, and well enough for the doctor to send me off with just a bag of ice, a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, and instructions to take it easy for a few days.

  As I slowly walked back through the motor homes, semis, vans, and campers to the Cox Racing area, where my father was most likely preparing his speech for me, I came across Myles. He’d had an exceptional day today, finishing third, right ahead of Hayden; funny I hadn’t even noticed him in front of us the whole time.

  “Hey, Kenzie,” he said, smiling brightly. “Great race today. Harsh fall, though. How’s your leg?”

  Lifting my foot, I swiveled my swollen ankle for him. It only mildly ached. “It’s totally fine, Myles. I can take a little bashing.”

  He grinned like he’d just had a dirty thought. “That’s good to know.” I was about to tell him to stop being such a guy when the light faded from his dark eyes. “Did I see that Hayden guy giving you crap after the race?”

  My heart started thudding. Had he seen us? I rolled my eyes, and it was only partly for effect. “Douche had to rub it in that I wiped out. Told me Daddy couldn’t buy the race, I had to earn it…” Even though repeating the words felt like barbed wire digging into my skin…Hayden was right, in a way. Equipment would only get me so far. Skill had to get me the rest of the way.

  Myles’s normally jovial face hardened. “Asshole. If he bothers you again, Kenzie, just let me know.”

  Biting my lip, I nodded. The thought of Myles getting into an altercation because of me didn’t sit right. And the idea of him getting into it with Hayden…bothered me for reasons I didn’t even want to think about.

  Annoyed that there was some speck of concern for Hayden buried anywhere within me, I shook my head and told Myles, “I gotta go see my dad. Catch up with you later, okay?”

  “You bet,” he said, clapping me on the back.

  When I returned to the Cox Racing area, I hung out with Nikki instead of going to see my dad right away. She was in the garage, working on my backup bike. Per my doctor’s order
s, I leaned back in a chair and put my foot up on the workbench. I needed to ice my ankle anyway. And put off seeing the disappointment in my dad’s eyes again. Not that I could do either for very long.

  My cell phone rang while I was resting, but before I could even curse the fact that I was going to have to get up to answer it, Nikki rummaged through my bag near her toolbox and handed it to me. I thanked her as I glanced at the screen. It was Theresa. “Hello?”

  “Oh my God, Kenzie, I saw you crash into the wall on TV! Are you okay? Is anything broken? Do you have a concussion? Have you passed out or vomited? Because I heard that’s bad…”

  Hearing the stress in my sister’s voice made me smile. She could be such a worrywart. “I’m fine, I promise.”

  “Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor? What did they say, tell me every single word.” With a sigh, I relayed everything the track doctor had told me. When I was finished, Theresa was silent for a solid ten seconds. Then she quietly told me, “Dad’s crazy for pushing you to race. You could be killed out there.”

  I gritted my jaw before responding. “I want to race, Theresa. All of this is my choice. Always has been.” Even though we’d all grown up in this world of racing, my sisters didn’t understand my need to be a part of it. They had both given up riding motorcycles when they were young, but I was more like Dad. Racing was in my soul.

  Theresa let out a wistful sigh. “I know…Just be careful, okay?” As I assured her that I was as careful as I could be, I heard someone eagerly whispering something in the background. Theresa let out an annoyed grunt, then snapped, “I’m not asking her that, Daphne! She said she was fine.”

  “What does she want?” I asked, removing my boot.

  “She wants to know if you’re going to be in a wheelchair for the wedding, and if you are going to be, she wants to know if she is going to have to find someone to push you, or if you’ve got someone in mind.”

  Daphne had gotten engaged recently, and her upcoming wedding was all she ever talked about now. Shaking my head at my obsessed sister, I told Theresa, “I’m fine, and I’ll talk to you guys later,” then I disconnected the phone. God, I really wished they hadn’t been watching today.