by Lindsay Becs
“I need to do this, Dad. I wish you’d understand that and quit being so against me entering your world. Racing is in my blood. It flows through my heart and into my soul. I have to do this.”
He nods slowly. “I guess I’ll be seeing you on the enemy’s side.”
“Really?” I deadpan. “Ducati and Zander are hardly your enemy.”
“They threaten to take my trophies, and now they’re trying to take my girl. Enemy number one, Pops.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “We cool?” I ask before I leave.
“As we’ll ever be. For now,” he adds with a smirk.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, Pops. Be careful, yeah?”
“Always.” I smile.
2
Zander
I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked Poppy to travel with me. It’s the perfect combination of something ready to blow up in my face. I must be a glutton for punishment when it comes to the King family. But there’s just something about Poppy King that I can’t keep away from.
When she showed up at the track several months ago, I was shocked and surprised at how much she’d grown up and changed. The one thing that hadn’t changed was her feisty temperament, but it did get bigger and spicier.
Gone was the little girl I first taught to ride, and in her place was a woman who I knew was going to take the world by storm. And I can’t wait to watch from the front row as she does.
A big truck with a lift kit pulls into the parking lot, and I laugh to myself when I see Poppy driving. She’s got to be barely big enough to climb inside, let alone drive that beast of a ride.
“Nice cage,” I yell when she swings the door open.
“Thanks. When my parents put the ban on me driving anything with less than four wheels, I took it to the extreme and told them I wanted the biggest truck I could get.” She jumps down after grabbing her bag from the back seat.
Shaking my head at this spitfire, I smile as I watch her. “You sure showed them.”
“Buster and I have been through a lot, but it’s time to get back to my first love.” She gives me a wicked grin. Is she talking about me? “I’m talking about a bike, dude. Stop looking like I just asked you to marry me,” she jests.
“I know,” I say, trying to sound smooth, but she definitely busted me. “Come on, we’ve got a plane to catch.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re climbing into the private plane to take us to Qatar for the first race of the season.
“Wow, you must have really suffered these last two years without RK,” Poppy deadpans.
Shaking my head, I fall into a cushy seat.
“Why do you always shake your head at me? You look like my dad when you do that.” She fake shudders.
Barking out a laugh, I reach for a bottle of whiskey stashed in the compartment next to me. “You’ve just changed a lot in the past couple years.” I leave it at that, downing the contents I just poured into the glass before pouring another.
Poppy is ten years younger than me, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing her killer curves. I’m a hot-blooded guy after all. Her long brown hair, which looks soft like feathers, and her gorgeous blue eyes make her stunning. She’s sure to break lots of hearts down the road.
“Must be pretty bad if I’ve already driven you to drink yourself to death,” she mumbles.
Lifting the glass toward her, I ask, “Want some?”
She scrunches her nose. “No, thanks. I hate the taste of liquor.”
“Like most women,” I add. “I don’t like flying. This helps me calm down enough not to get too worked up,” I admit to her.
“Really? You’re afraid to fly?” I nod, looking down into the amber liquid. “You drive on two wheels at over two hundred miles per hour all over the world, but you’re afraid of flying through fluffy clouds?”
“Hey! Sometimes there’s turbulence.”
“Right…” She smirks, pulling out her earbuds and connecting them to her phone. “Well, I’m right here, big guy, if you need a hug or a reassuring hand to hold.”
“For some reason, I think you’re lying, but thank you for the offer, Soda Pop.”
Chuckling to myself, I drink the rest of my whiskey and sink down into my seat. We take off soon enough, and once we’re in the air, I get comfy, hoping for a nice long nap.
It’s practice day for me on the track here in Qatar. With it being the first race of the season, excitement and adrenaline are high everywhere and with everyone. Some nerves from newer riders, but all in all, everyone is flying high and ready to go.
I’m talking with a crew member when I hear a deep British accent that I’ve been avoiding since we landed.
“Macallan!”
Spinning around, I walk to where Benton King is standing at the entrance of the Ducati bay. “Was wondering when you’d make your move to hit me again,” I say with a smirk, being a little shit to him. I’m testing the waters and probably asking for it, but I also want to know where he stands with Poppy training with me. She told me she was upfront with him and he sort of gave his blessing, whatever that means.
“I’m not going to hit you, ya wanker. But I will say this: My daughter better not get hurt under your teaching again. You better keep your hands and dick to yourself too, yeah?”
“Whoa!” I hold up my hands with my eyes going wide. “Benton, it is not and never has been like that. She’s a kid—your kid—and my relationship with her is only as a teacher/student professional one, never anything more. I may joke with her a lot, and she may bust my balls, but I promise she’s not going near them for real.”
“Good then.” He looks at me with a growing smile. “She is a ball-buster like her mother, that’s for sure. Good luck there, mate.”
“Oh, thanks,” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
“Mark my words. I will end your career and blacklist you from riding with anyone ever again if I find out you do become more than friendly with my daughter. If she gets hurt, I’m talking so much as a papercut, it’s over for you, Macallan.”
Swallowing, I nod. “Anything else?”
“Look, I don’t like it, but deep, deep, deep down, I know you are the best to train her. Just don’t make me regret it, yeah?”
I nod once more. “We good then?”
“Yeah. We’re alright.”
“Good. I missed you, you old lug!” I lunge for him and give him a big hug.
We were teammates, and he was my friend before. My mentor who I looked up to. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt and devastate me when he fired me and told me to keep my distance. The Royal King family had become my family in the short time I was with them.
“Ready for this season?” Benton asks, stepping back.
“I am. Feeling good. May the best man win out there, huh?”
“I think we both know who that is, yeah?” he laughs. “Be good to my daughter!” he adds over his shoulder as he leaves.
I hear them arguing.
Mom screaming.
Dad cursing.
Thuds and glass breaking.
A loud bang.
Then another.
Then silence.
I stay in my closet with my eyes shut tight, my hands over my ears, trembling as I rock back and forth. I pissed my pants a little bit ago when the first bang happened. My ears are still ringing from it.
I’ve been repeating the words my mom always says to me when I’m scared. “Bad dreams go away. Little bird fly away. Open the door and be free. Look at the sun and feel the breeze.” It seems like I’ve said them a million times. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting in here. Slowly, I lower my hands and open my eyes, inching the door open and making my way across my room. It’s still quiet. Too quiet.
Maybe he passed out after he knocked her out. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. I wish she would let me help her fight him. But she made me promise not to get in the middle of his attacks on her. I hate him. I hate him so much.
I grit my teeth as I walk out of my room and into the hall. I see a broken lamp on the floor, and the curtains on the front window have been pulled down on one side. Then I see her foot. “Mom!” I call out to her as I run into what I wasn’t prepared for. I stop when I see the blood and brain matter across the room. It’s everywhere.
I turn and brace my hands on the wall next to me as I puke. Tears start falling down my face, and it pisses me off. I punch the wall over and over, yelling until my voice goes hoarse. I sink to the floor when I have nothing left to give, head in my hands, elbows on my bent-up knees. Then I look up, just enough to see him rocking in his La-Z-Boy chair, smoking a cigarette. Couldn’t care less when he beat her unconscious, and now he killed her and he seems too calm.
I rise from the floor and walk to where he sits, staring at the blank TV screen. I spit on him as I walk through the massacre he created. “I hate you!” I yell.
I rush to the kitchen to get the phone, and for the first time, I call 911 and report the monster I live with. I hang up and inform him that the police are on their way. His empty eyes find mine. He looks straight through me, almost like he’s pouring his darkness into my soul.
I hear the sirens approaching in the distance. He snarls at me then, backhands me across the face and then turns back to the blank TV and cigarette in his hand.
I hate that I’m linked to him.
I hate that his darkness lives in me.
“I hate you!” I yell again and again until an officer pulls me out of the house.
“Ahhh!” I yell. My eyes fly open as I startle from being shaken awake. I’m met with concern-laden blue eyes that instantly make me feel better. Running my hands through my hair, I let out a breath and lean back.
“Are you alright?” Poppy asks hesitantly, crouching in front of my seat with her hands on my knees. We’re on our way to the next race, and I must have dozed off.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m sorry if I scared you. I have nightmares sometimes,” I admit, staring at her bright-pink painted nails.
“Do you want to talk about it? When I was little, my mom used to say that if you talked about the bad dream, it would help make it leave and then you could fall back asleep with only happy things to dream about.”
“Did it work?” I ask, my voice sounding scratchy, and I wonder how long I’d been yelling.
She lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes.”
With a creased brow, I search her face, so soft and relaxed. She may be young at eighteen, but she’s so driven that it makes her seem older sometimes. Here, in the dim light of the plane, she looks younger with her hair up in a ponytail and an RK hoodie on. I’ll have to fix that and give her one of my team hoodies.
I swallow my unease before I begin to tell her what I don’t tell anyone. I never even told Penny when we traveled and became close friends years ago.
“I didn’t have a good childhood,” I start, and she settles into the seat across from me, leaning forward to listen. “My dad was an asshole. Beat my mom and me and was an alcoholic.” I go on to tell her about the night my dad killed my mom.
“I’m so sorry, Zander,” she says, crouching in front of me and taking my hand in her small one. I see tears brimming her eyes, and I hate that. I don’t want her pity or anyone else’s. I hate what I came from. My father, who took away the most loving mother a son could ask for.
“Not your fault, Soda Pop. We all just get the hand we’re dealt, and that’s that.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
“Where did you live after that?” she asks, and I like that she’s so concerned for the little boy of my past.
“I moved in with my grandmother. Grams is my mom’s mom. She’s great but had no idea what she was getting with me,” I chuckle.
“Is your father still alive?” I’m grateful she didn’t ask more about my rebellious youth.
“He is, but I haven’t seen him since that night. He’s serving a life sentence in prison.”
She nods her head, and I laugh a little. “I may shake my head at you, but you seem to nod a lot.”
“Guess it rubbed off.” She smiles softly. “I’m going to try to get some more sleep if you’re alright.”
“I am. Sorry I woke you. Go rest up before we land.”
“Sweet dreams, Zander.”
“Poppy?” She turns my way, pausing her hand before putting her earbud back in. “Thanks for listening.”
“It’s what friends do.” She smiles again before raising her hood up over her head and closing her eyes.
Huh. I guess we are friends. She’s the closest thing I have to one these days, that’s for sure.
3
Poppy
I’ve been traveling with Zander and his team for two months now. The IMR circuit isn’t anything new to me. I grew up on it with my parents, my dad the infamous racer and my mom the model and face of Royal King, the ultimate Paddock Girl.
But doing it with Zander is so different. I’m not as easily recognized as the daughter who’s expected to follow in her mom’s steps as a Paddock Girl. I can just be me and enjoy it. I can enjoy it all and be the girl who wants to follow her dad instead.
Zander trains and races during the days that we aren’t traveling between countries, and by night he teaches me. When he’s on the track, I watch him closely, learning his moves along with every other racer out there.
My dad always said that you need to know your opponent’s moves, ticks and tells as much as you needed to know how to ride. He might not be the one teaching me his skills, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still value the things he’s said throughout the years.
“You look deep in thought over here.” Speak of the devil. My dad walks up behind me, where I’m perched watching some of the lower-level racers practice.
“Just soaking it all in.”
He slings his arm around me in a side hug, kissing the top of my head. “I should disown you for wearing this garbage, yeah?” he says, pulling on the sleeve of my sweatshirt with Zander’s team and number on it. I appreciate him giving me some space while I navigate my way through this side of the track and IMR.
“Why? You didn’t want me on your team,” I tell him pointedly with the sass I get honestly from my mom.
“Pops, you know it’s not like that,” he says, his voice softening, and I feel bad.
Sighing, I roll my eyes and sink into his side again. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… frustrated, I guess.”
“With me?”
“Yeah, Dad. You basically shut me out when I told you I wanted to follow you and race, but you didn’t like that someone else was doing it either. I lost two years of good training and learning because of it. So, yeah, I’m kinda frustrated and annoyed with you for making light of it all.”
“Poppy, look at me,” he says, turning me to face him fully. “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t take you seriously. But you were so young, princess, and this race world is hard enough for a man, let alone for my baby girl.”
“I’m not a baby though. I’ve known I wanted to do this since I was a kid.”
He nods his head, studying me. “I’m sorry if I hurt you and you felt cast-off. That wasn’t my intention. I was angry at Zander for teaching you behind my back and getting you hurt before you were even old enough to drive.” I open my mouth to defend him, but Dad holds his hand up to stop me. “I know now that it was an accident and there was value to what he and Penny did. I can see that he was the safest person for you to learn from. And now, I think it’s better that he teaches you. You listen and learn better from him than if it were your old man doing it, yeah?”
I smile at him, “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
“You remember our motto though... ‘Be smart. Be wise…”
“‘Then be fast.’” I say the last part before he can.
Satisfied, he steps back. “I need to go and call your mum before it’s too late. But come say hello more often to your old man. He misses yo
u.”
“I don’t know… I’m becoming more of a Ducati fan…” I joke as he begins to walk away.
“Hush your mouth, child!” he jokes, walking backward.
“Never!” I yell through a laugh. “Go twenty-seven!” I can’t resist adding Zander’s number just to really drive my dad crazy.
“Oh!” I hear him yell, sounding wounded as he turns the corner.
I’m still laughing when Zander comes from the direction where my dad just left. “Hey,” I say as I wipe tears from my eyes from laughing so hard.
“Were you just yelling my number to your dad?” he asks cautiously.
“Maybe.” I walk to meet him. “You done for the day?”
“Yep.”
“My turn?” I ask hopefully.
“I was actually going to ask if you wanted a night off. Want to do something else for once?”
I can’t help but show my disappointment when I answer. “Like what?”
He chucks my chin with a smile. “I thought we could go out with some of the team to a club. You like to dance?”
“That’s more Ruby’s language,” I grumble. “She’s the family prima ballerina.”
Ruby, my baby sister, is the dancer of the family. She’s the grace I lack even at her young age of twelve. But she also takes the heat off of me since I’m not exactly the girlie girl my mom wished I was. Clothes, make-up, and beauty are their things, not mine.
“Oh, bitterness has shown its face!” Zander laughs with his fist covering his mouth and taking a step back.
“I’m not bitter. I just had to sit through way too many of her recitals through the years.”
“Come on, we need to loosen you up,” he says, taking my hands in his and pulling me to follow him toward the exit of the track. “Let’s take a night off and have fun away from here for once. You do like to have fun, right?”