Furious Rush

by S. C. Stephens

  The buildings gleamed in the early-morning sunlight and the anticipation of breakneck speed started filling me. My ankle was fine, my scrapes were healing, and my bruises were slowly fading—I was ready to go fast again. Crazy, balls-to-the-wall fast.

  Ignoring the Benneti side of the track, like I always did, I headed over to the Cox side—the right side, as we called it. Perpetually late Nikki wasn’t in the shop below the offices, but a few other members of the crew were there, along with two other racers—Myles and a guy we’d lovingly nicknamed Ralph, because he always threw up before a race.

  Myles was standing beside Kevin, examining one of his bikes. I waved at him when he looked my way, and he nodded his head in greeting. Then a devilish smile played across his lips and his dark eyes sparkled with playfulness. “Good timing. Your sister is here. She’s upstairs with your dad. Going over fabric swatches.” He raised one eyebrow in a knowing smirk.

  An amused grin stretched across my mouth. “Seriously? This I’ve gotta see.” Myles laughed and I cast a quick look around the garage, looking for evidence of recent spray paint abuse. “You notice the signs?”

  When I looked back at Myles, he crossed his arms over his chest. Anger instantly replaced the levity. “Yeah, those dicks. Sux Racing…I got somethin’ they can suck.”

  Studying his expression, I asked, “You see both signs?”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  With a small laugh, I held my fist up to Myles and he silently bumped it. I doubted he had actually been involved with the sign—that just wasn’t his style—but his loyalty was endearing. Myles would never leave us, never jump ship for greener pastures with another team. He bled blue and white.

  Setting down my stuff, I was about to go upstairs to see my dad and Daphne when Myles started making an odd lasso motion with one hand.

  “Ready to get your cowgirl on tonight?” he asked.

  I knew he wasn’t propositioning me; he’d known me too long for crap like that. “Umm…what are you talking about, Kelley?”

  He stopped moving and frowned. “Didn’t Nikki text you? We decided to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by riding fake bulls, and you’re coming with us.” He grinned, like this idea they’d concocted was genius. Now I was frowning.

  “Oh, and when did you and Nikki decide this?” I tapped my finger against my jaw, like I was thinking. “Maybe after Daytona, when you hijacked Nikki and then you both abandoned me at the hotel hot tub to go clubbing? Thanks for texting me the change of plans, by the way. Oh wait, you didn’t.” No, Nikki had texted me an apology the next morning. Bitch.

  Myles scratched his head in an adorable expression of guilt. “Right…We were totally going to text you when we got to the club to check it out…but there was foam. We got distracted…Sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes at his answer. It didn’t take much to distract those two. “You’re both assholes.”

  Myles cringed and grinned. “So you’ll let us make it up to you tonight then, right?” I opened my mouth to tell him no, that I needed to focus on racing, but as if he’d read my mind, Myles lifted his finger and countered my unspoken argument. “One drink…surely your diet allows for that. And a motorized bull, Kenzie…Just think of the core work! It’s like being on a motorcycle that bucks. Where else can you get that kind of training? And it’s a team thing, a bunch of us Coxes are going. And you’re the best Cox…you have to be there. It’s mandatory.”

  The cute look on his face would have most women agreeing to do whatever he asked, and I was no exception. I laughed as I caved. “Fine, one drink. But I’m not staying out late.”

  This time he rolled his eyes. “I know that, Kenzie. It is you, after all.” Then he started rubbing his hands together, like an evil scientist scheming to take over the world. “This is gonna be great. Nikki will pick you up tonight. And make sure you wear something green. Wouldn’t want you to get pinched.”

  He winked and I lifted a finger in warning. “If you even think about it, Kelley…” He raised his hands like he was the most innocent person in the world. I didn’t buy it for a second.

  Shaking my head at Myles, I left him with his bike so I could go upstairs and witness the hell my sister was putting Dad through; I was dying to see him elbow-deep in wedding magazines. Even though Dad would rather do just about anything else for her, Daphne had decided to make him her wedding planner; she ran every aspect of the ceremony past him. And I mean every aspect. Just last week they’d been going over fonts for the napkins. I think Dad only put up with it because he was the last parent left to us, and he felt obligated to give Daphne the wedding of her dreams—even if it was costing him enough to purchase a small island in the South Pacific. Daphne wanted the best of the best, and Dad just couldn’t tell her no.

  I lightly knuckled the door, then waited for my dad. He answered with a weary “Yeah,” and I gleefully stepped inside.

  What I spotted was absolutely priceless. Daphne had turned Dad’s desk into a mosaic of pastel delight. Every frothy, tutti-frutti, bubblegum shade of femininity was duking it out for a place of prominence on Dad’s overflowing workspace. Peppermint blues competed with seafoam greens, cotton-candy pinks, lilac lavenders, and sunset tangerines. As Daphne handed Dad swatch after swatch of minutely different shades of peach, his face contorted into a pained expression of helplessness. He reminded me of someone who had endured countless hours of slow, methodical torture designed purely to destroy a person’s mind and was on the tipping point of losing the last shred of his sanity. It was great.

  The second Dad saw me, his spirits lifted. “Mackenzie, thank God you’re here.”

  I held a hand up to stop the request I heard coming. “I can’t stay long. I’m working on the track today, like you asked.” I wanted to be subjected to examining Daphne’s endless color palette about as much as Dad did.

  Daphne finally noticed my entrance and smiled at me. “Hey, Kenzie!” She grabbed two pieces of pink fabric and held them up. “What do you think…Summer Nights or Raspberry Parfait?”

  I shook my head. “They look exactly the same to me, Daph, and neither one looks like its name, so I say screw them both. I mean, Summer Nights? Aren’t nights inherently dark? Hence the word ‘night’? So shouldn’t that color be black? Or really, really dark blue? It just makes no sense to me.”

  With a groan, Daphne tucked a long blond lock behind her ear. “You’re about as helpful as Dad. If I asked you two to choose between Kawasaki Green and Yamaha Yellow, you’d probably have no problem.”

  At the same time, Dad and I both said, “Kawasaki Green.”

  Daphne groaned again while Dad shot me a smile. We didn’t always get along that well, but I think Dad found it easier to connect with me than with my two older sisters. It was no great secret in my family that Dad had wanted sons, but fate had blessed him with all girls, and I was the only one who’d followed in his racing footsteps. My sisters wouldn’t even ride anymore. I think Dad had died a little inside after each daughter had given the sport up. But then I’d become the son he’d never had. Only, I wasn’t a boy and I’d never be a boy. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d never entirely be what he wanted me to be.

  Turning back to Dad, Daphne said, “So, like I said, I need your help picking out coordinating colors for the wedding.” She handed him a clipboard with a spreadsheet that looked to be about thirty pages thick. “I’ve gone through and listed all of my favorites and the reasoning behind them. I want you to go through the colors and pick out your top twenty favorites, along with your reasoning for each choice, then I’ll merge the two lists and see if we agree on any color combinations.”

  Dad took the clipboard from her, but it was with clear reluctance. “Couldn’t your fiancé help you with this?” he asked her, pain in his voice.

  With a smile bright enough to power Oceanside, Daphne shook her head. “Nope. This is a family matter, and Jeff’s not family. Yet.” She winked, then spun on he
r heel. “I’ll give you some time alone to ponder your decisions. Call me if you have any questions. See you in an hour!”

  She waggled her fingers over her shoulder as she walked out the door. Once the storm had passed and the office was calm, Dad’s weary eyes found mine. “Please do me a favor and never get married.”

  “Not a problem,” I murmured, looking over his homework assignment. “Dad, did you see…?” The expression on his face made me pause. There would be time to tell him about the signs later—he had enough on his plate right now. “Never mind. You’ve got a lot to do here, so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be on the track if you need anything. Anything not wedding related, that is,” I added with a laugh as I started backing away.

  Dad sighed and shook his head. “So much pink,” he muttered, studying his desk. Still laughing on the inside, I hastily began my escape. I was halfway through the door when I thought I heard Dad whisper, “Vivienne…how could you leave me here alone with so much pink?”

  I froze at hearing Dad mention Mom’s name. He didn’t talk much about her; I could list the number of times he’d brought her up in the last several years on one hand. The grief was heavy in his voice, though, and feeling an enormous amount of trepidation, I slowly looked back at him.

  “You…okay, Dad?” I asked, tense. Dad and I didn’t discuss things like this. We discussed racing, or my crazy sisters, or how evil the Bennetis were. We didn’t talk about feelings, didn’t delve into emotions. Not like this.

  Dad’s face immediately transformed into a stoic mask of professionalism, and I relaxed. Stern, controlled, and powerful I could handle. Cracked and needy, not so much. “Of course I’m fine.” He pointed a stern finger at me. “I want to see your practice results the second you’re done.”

  I gave him a curt nod, then darted out the door. Potential emotional crisis averted. Thank God.

  When I got back downstairs, Nikki was finally there. She was busy working on my main bike, getting all the dents and dings out of it. By the look on her face, she’d been dying to get her hands on it since we’d gotten back to California. I thought of pestering her about not texting me the change of plans in Daytona…but I didn’t want her to ask what happened at the hot tub, so I simply waved a greeting at her and left her to her work.

  Grabbing my bag, I headed to the locker room to put on my leathers. Once I was done, I felt a surge of nervous, pent-up energy coiling in me. I tried to contain it, control it like my father always said, but it was like I was coated in doubt. I’d messed up so badly in Daytona. I needed to show Dad that I was back on track, unstoppable. With a long, slow exhale, I pushed my backup bike toward the course entrance. I could do this.

  Ralph was out running his laps when I got there, so I waited, somewhat patiently, for him to finish. I bounced on my seat, testing the suspension; flexed my gloves, keeping my fingers warm; and wiggled my toes in my boots. I wanted to go, wanted to impress Dad.

  While I was waiting, someone else pulled up beside me and shut his bike off. I looked over to see Hayden straddling his red Honda. Damn, he looked good on his bike, like a Greek god resting on his chariot. His lips started curling into a smile, and I immediately returned my eyes to studying the racer on the track. He couldn’t affect me if I didn’t look at him. Hayden wasn’t about to let me ignore him, though. “Hey, sweet cakes, want to practice together? You know you ride better when you’ve got a nice view.”

  I looked over in time to see him nodding at his backside. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Don’t flatter yourself…sweet cakes.” My words came out with the acerbic sting of pure venom. Why couldn’t he ever call me by my name? And what the hell was he thinking? We couldn’t practice together. He couldn’t even step foot on the track for a few more hours.

  Undeterred by my frosty tone, Hayden leaned his bike toward me. “Come on, ride with me. It will be like Daytona again, only better.”

  I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of engaging him, but I couldn’t help but ask, “Better? How?” Just acknowledging his ludicrous idea was stupid. I shouldn’t be standing next to him, let alone talking to him. Discreetly glancing around, I made sure no one was looking our way.

  His voice brimming with eagerness, Hayden said, “With just two of us racing, one of us is assured the number one spot. And I’m pretty sure you know who that will be…and that’s why you’re really scared to race me.”

  I knew he was just saying that to get to me, but I couldn’t help my reaction. “I’m not scared of anything,” I bit out, staring him down.

  “Good,” he stated. “That’s exactly how you should feel before you enter a track, not nervous, like it’s your first time.” I could only gape at him; how did he always see right through me? While I pondered that, Hayden popped on his helmet, leaving the visor up, and started his bike. Over the roar of his engine, he yelled, “Race me or chase me, Kenzie.”

  And with those words, he lowered his visor and shot forward onto the track. Shock held me in place, and I wasn’t sure what I was more surprised about, the fact that he was actively breaking the track rule—again—or the fact that he had actually used my name.

  Letting out an annoyed curse, I slammed on my helmet. Caution held me in place for a few precious seconds. I shouldn’t race with him, not like this. If someone sees us…if my dad finds out…... And Ralph—…where did he go? I scanned the track, but I didn’t see my teammate anymore. All I saw was Hayden’s retreating form as he owned what was supposed to belong to me. Narrowing my eyes, I started my bike. There was no way in hell I was going to let Hayden get the best of me on my track.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I shot forward. I was right behind Hayden in record time, and as much as I hated to admit it, he was right: I rode better when I was chasing him—more relaxed, more fearless, like racing was just about having fun and not about proving to the world that I belonged. My balance was perfect, my shifting was seamless, and my handling was flawless. I felt invincible as my front tire inched ever closer to his rear tire. Chase you or race you, huh? Well then, get ready for the race of your life.

  We ripped around the track over and over and over. Neither one of us gave up much ground for long. I’d sneak around him, hold him for a few heartbeats, then he’d snake around me and do the same. In the back of my mind, fear and worry were trying to punch a hole through the joy—Someone could be watching, someone could see, someone could think I’m willingly fraternizing with a Benneti. And wasn’t I? But I wouldn’t let the anxiety win—not until I had him. All I would allow myself to focus on was getting around him, gaining ground on him, not giving him an inch. I was nearly there too…and then my bike started acting funny. It was losing traction and losing power.

  That was when I noticed the condition of my tires, and my gas gauge; I was almost coasting on fumes. Hating that I was going to have to retire while Hayden was in the lead, I slowed down and started making my way to the exit. Hayden glanced back, saw I was leaving, and pumped his fist into the air in victory. Pompous jerk. I hoped he stayed out there too long and completely fried his bike. Let him explain that to Keith and his teammates. They’d probably give him another lesson on respecting the rules. Oddly, that thought made my stomach feel like it was cramping. Or maybe I was just nervous that I’d get taught a similar lesson.

  My heart was thudding in my chest when I returned to the Cox Racing garage bay. Act cool, act cool. I didn’t do anything wrong. I mean…it wasn’t my fault Hayden had crashed the track. When I eased back to the bay, several Cox Racing members were standing outside, staring at something. My already racing heart threatened to stall on me. Oh God…they know. As crew members stared at me, I pulled up next to Myles and Nikki and said the one word that would certainly be my doom. Removing my helmet, I asked, “What?”

  Nikki pointed up at the testing screen, used to measure lap times. Shit. The board, I’d completely forgotten about the board. Chips on the bikes logged our lap times…and displayed them right next to our racing numbers. Hopin
g against all hope that the board had malfunctioned somehow, and that Hayden’s bike number wasn’t plastered next to mine, I glanced back at the screen. My jaw dropped when I saw what had my teammates in a daze.

  “That’s my best time…ever,” I muttered, stunned. The board listed the last several laps I’d made, and all of them matched or exceeded my previous record. Some of them, when I’d really hit my stride, beat my best time by quite a bit. And even more shocking…Hayden was nowhere on the board. Either it really had malfunctioned…or he’d removed his tracking chip. I was dazed by what I was seeing—and what I wasn’t seeing. While having fun with Hayden, I’d smoked my previous times, and no one seemed to realize who I’d been racing against.

  From the looks on people’s faces around me, it was clear none of them had been watching the track while I was out there—and that wasn’t too surprising; everyone had stuff to do, and unless my dad or John was actively critiquing someone’s form, we generally just glanced at the lap times when the rider was done. I looked around for Ralph, since he might have seen me with Hayden as he was leaving the track, and spotted him near the back of the room; he was already halfway through his lunch, and seemed more concerned about his sandwich falling apart than about anything I was doing.

  All smiles, Myles clapped me on the shoulder. “Way to go, Kenzie! I think you even beat my best record. Your dad is gonna flip when he sees this!”

  Yes…he was going to flip when he saw it. But he would come completely unglued if he knew what I’d done to earn it.

  Chapter 6

  Nikki frowned at me when she picked me up that night. “What are you wearing? And why don’t I see any green?”