Double Clutch

by Liz Reinhardt

  I showered and got ready, taking extra long because I was freaking out about the day, and I preferred to focus on getting my mascara on without any clumps than imagining what would happen when Jake and Saxon and I all wound up in one place together later that night.

  Before I knew it I heard the familiar rumble of Jake’s truck and the crunch of his tires on the gravel of our driveway. My heart raced and I gripped the sink vanity for a few seconds, trying to work up the courage to go out and meet him.

  I heard Mom open the door. I heard Jake’s low voice, and I heard her say, “Thank you, Jake. That was so thoughtful of you.”

  I crept out of the bathroom like the coward I was, and saw Jake had handed my mom a bunch of flowers. He had on a blue button down that brought out shades of blue in his usually gray eyes. His hair was brushed down and gelled. It seemed like he had worked really hard to get a certain look, but I wasn’t sure I knew what it was. Maybe ‘responsible boy who won’t break your daughter’s heart’?

  Thorsten came down the stairs and shook Jake’s hand. I was so relieved Fa was here today. His cool Scandinavian calm tended to offset Mom’s natural crazy neuroticism. Jake stood awkwardly when I came down the hall.

  All three of them looked at me at once. Thortsten looked happy and kind, as usual, Mom looked like she was trying really hard not to cry, and Jake smiled so wide it looked like it had to hurt.

  It was Jake who moved forward first, then stopped. He seemed to sense my mother’s territorial vibe.

  “Wow. You look really pretty, Brenna.” Jake fumbled with one of the buttons on his shirt.

  My mom gave him an assessing look. “She does, doesn’t she?”

  “You’re going to need to keep away from the track. It’s way too muddy.” Jake looked a little worried.

  “Is it dangerous, Jake?” my mother asked.

  “No, ma’am, not for Brenna. Sometimes the riders wipe out, but we’re in a gated track.”

  “I see you drove.” My mother gave Jake a long, piercing look that I’m pretty sure most interrogators would kill to master. “Have you been driving long?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve worked on a farm since I was about fourteen, and I drove their tractor the first day. After a few months, they let me drive the work trucks too. I never speed,” he added hastily.

  “You work on a farm?” Thorsten asked. He grew up on a farm, so he had this agricultural camaraderie thing. “Where do you work?”

  “Zinga’s, sir.” He looked at me, just a really quick flick of his eyes, but I could see he was nervous.

  “I love their apple tarts!” Thorsten said enthusiastically.

  It broke the tension. Everyone laughed.

  “Fa loves to eat anything,” I said.

  “I should be very fat.” Thorsten motioned in front of his stomach like he was pregnant. “I have to walk everywhere, or I’ll get a big gut.”

  Mom laughed and patted his flat stomach. “Well, you kids should get going. Brenna, do you have your cell phone on?”

  “Of course.” I took her into my arms and held her very tight. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

  “Well, he’s very polite,” she whispered as I held her. “And he certainly is very good looking.” Louder she said, “Wear your seatbelts at all times, no exceptions. Give me a call when you get to your concert and when you get out. I don’t care how late it is.”

  We agreed, I kissed her and hugged her again, kissed Fa, and grabbed Jake’s hand. If it was possible, I felt even lighter than I did after I talked to Jake the night before. As Jake opened my door and I climbed into the old truck, I saw the familiar flick of the curtain, and it made my heart glow with toasty warmth.

  Jake pulled out very slowly and carefully. He probably overdid it, but I imagined Mom would appreciate his effort to impress her with his caution. “Wow. Your mom is scary.” Jake undid the top button on his shirt and took a deep breath.

  “I thought she was nice.” I felt the defensive prickle that I always felt when someone said something not completely complimentary about my mom.

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t nice. I said she was scary.” He looked a little pale. “She stared at me the whole time like she was trying to decide if she should punch me in the face or let me go out with you.”

  I laughed. “You’re exaggerating. She told me she thinks you’re hot.”

  He looked over at me, his eyes dancing. “No way!”

  “When she hugged me.” I reached over and tousled his perfectly gelled hair a little.

  “Wow.” He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Your mom’s like this super scary, super hot professor. I guess I’m just really flattered.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Do you think I’m hot?”

  “I do.” I leaned against his shoulder. “Especially in that shirt. I love all those buttons.”

  We laughed easily. It was nice to be able to be so comfortable with him. I thought after we slept in the same bed, there might be some kind of residual awkwardness, but there was nothing like that. He kept one hand on the steering wheel and shrugged out of his dress shirt.

  “I’m a little nervous about the race,” he admitted.

  “Don’t be. You’ll do great,” I said, though, of course, I had no idea at all.

  “I don’t usually mind screwing up, but I don’t love the idea of doing it in front of you.” He tapped his hands nervously on the steering wheel. “Just don’t go home with the winner instead of me.” He wanted it to be a joke, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at it.

  “Don’t be insane. Like I’d even be interested in anyone else? Anyway, maybe you’ll win,” I suggested. “I can’t even tell if there’s a real chance that you will. You’re always so pessimistic about yourself, I don’t know if I should believe you.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” He shifted and drummed on his steering wheel faster, not able to settle down at all.

  When we pulled up, there were hundreds of other cars already there. I felt my jaw drop. I guess I had been expecting a couple dozen people and a little dirt track. This was huge. The track was enormous, and there were already really little kids flying around it. Like really little kids; kids who looked small enough to be in kindergarten.

  Jake looked over at them and grinned. “I was that age when I won my first race.”

  I remembered he had told me he was four when he started riding. “Do you win a lot?”

  He laughed and rubbed his neck. “A lot for an amateur.” He reached into his backseat, pulled out a long sleeved, jersey-like motocross shirt, and put it on. He got back in the truck to put on his pants, then boots and knee and elbow pads. When he stood and turned, his helmet tucked under his arm, I felt a little girly thrill. He looked very sporty and tough.

  In the back of the truck, under a tarp, was his dirt bike. It was bigger than I expected, and very clean.

  “Did you wash it for the race?” I pulled a finger along the shiny metal of the fender.

  “Of course.” He looked at me in shock when I laughed. “What’s so funny?”

  “Jake, you washed your dirt bike the day of a big dirt track race? You don’t think it’s funny?” The more I thought about it, the more it made me giggle, chuckle, then full out laugh.

  Jake just sighed. “You,” he said and kissed me between giggles, “just don’t understand.”

  He parked near one of the ramps that were set up in the area, hopped into the back, and pushed his bike down. He set the helmet on the bike. Then we walked to a tent where people were waiting with clipboards and number placards.

  The sound was intense. There was the constant whine of a dozen bikes racing at the same time coupled with the cheers of the crowds and the droning announcements from four big loud speakers.

  “Jake Kelly.” Jake smiled at the older woman checking people in.

  “Jake! How nice to see you! I hope you win the big one this year.” She smiled and handed him a large number seventy-eight for his bike and hi
s shirt.

  “Thanks,” he said shyly and we moved on.

  “So, are you some hot shot in the world of dirt bike racing?” He attempted to pin the number on his shirt. I brushed his hands aside and pinned it for him, making sure it wasn’t crooked.

  “In the world of amateur Sussex County dirt bike racing I’m like a demi god.” He winked at me.

  Just then a gaggle of girls called his name. When he looked up, one of them took a picture of him with her phone, and they giggled and ran.

  “Oh no.” I put my hands on his big, broad shoulders. “This is going to be one big Jake Kelly love fest, isn’t it?”

  “I hope it’s one big Jake Kelly win fest.” He tugged me closer and leaned to whisper in my ear. “I prefer a private Jake Kelly love fest later on, if you know what I mean.”

  He was just about to kiss me, which would have been wonderful, when a bunch of guys wearing the same kind of motocross outfits came over to us.

  “Hey Jake,” said a guy with slicked black hair and crooked teeth. “Ready to lose?”

  “If I’m racing you, it isn’t really a worry.” He put his arm around me tight.

  I noticed every guy in the group looked at me a little hungrily.

  “Who’s you’re girl, Jake?” the crooked-toothed guy asked.

  “Guys, this is Brenna. I’m not introducing them,” he said cheerfully to me. “They’re mostly idiots, and plus that, you don’t really need to know anyone here but me.”

  The guys hooted. “He’s just scared you’ll realize there’s something better than the old village dirt bike,” Crooked Tooth said, half joking, half nasty.

  I smiled dumbly because I didn’t really know what to say. The tone was a little meaner than I was comfortable with. The guys moved on quickly, most of them looking back to whistle or cat call.

  “That was weird.” I put a hand out and Jake grabbed it, pulled it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles.

  “They’re scumbags. Listen, don’t talk to any of them while I’m racing, okay?” His eyes had that strange, maniacal gleam that only bubbled up when he got seriously angry.

  I felt my face go hot. “I know I’m not really in any position to be offended that you just said that, but c’mon, Jake.”

  “I’m not worried about you.” He kissed me softly. “They’re like damn dogs. Give them any encouragement, and you won’t be able to get the hell away from them.”

  “When is your race?” I asked.

  “Twenty minutes. But I get a few minutes to run the course between races. I’ll take you to the stands, okay? You want a soda or some food?” There were little vendor huts set up all over. The track had turned into a little city with food and clothing vendors, port-a-potties, repair stations, and sponsor huts.

  I was a little hungry, but I didn’t want Jake to miss out on any practice time. “I’d rather get one with you after you race.”

  “Alright.” He squinted a little in the sun and smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here. No one’s ever come to see me race before.”

  “Never?” I couldn’t believe his dad never wanted to be by his side when Jake raced.

  He hesitated. “Mom of course, before she died. And Saxon. Back when we were friends. He used to race, actually.”

  “Oh,” I said. He shifted uncomfortably, and I switched tracks. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  “Good.” His smile was a little more guarded. We walked to the stands. He came as far as he could go with his bike, then directed me to sit where he could see me.

  “It’s important.” He held me by the elbows. “I want to be able to see you, okay?”

  “I get it. Wait.” I took my camera out of my purse. “Stand next to your bike.” He did and gave a cocky smile. I snapped the picture and kissed him again. “Have fun and be careful.”

  He laughed. “Love you!”

  “Love you, too!” I called. When I turned to go into the stands, I saw it was dirtbike-groupie central. There were girls all over, talking on cell phones, reading magazines, watching the track, chatting and laughing. I sat just on the perimeter. No one talked to me, but I was fine just watching.

  “Hey!” called a girl with really white blonde hair and a shirt that looked exactly like a corset. It was a little shocking and I thought it might just be a frilly tube top, but when I looked closer it was definitely a corset. Like a Victoria’s Secret black and red lace corset that’s usually worn under clothing or just in a bedroom, I guess. But this girl had it on as a shirt, with tight jeans. “You Jake Kelly’s girlfriend?” She laughed behind her hand and some of the other hoochie-looking girls laughed along.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

  “Well, enjoy it while it lasts.” She snapped her gum loudly. “He goes through them pretty quick.” She made a nasty face at me. I was being taunted by a corset-wearing, gum-cracking hoe with straw for hair.

  “Thanks,” I said with a big, fake smile, then I opened my eyes really wide. “I think one of the girls just got out.” I pointed to her chest.

  She pressed both hands over her scantily covered boobs and looked down frantically. I had already turned back to the race, but I did hear her call ‘bitch’ in my direction. I sighed. It would be nice if everyone here wasn’t a leering idiot or a backstabbing hooker-want-to-be.

  To top it off, I had no idea how it worked. I didn’t know how many laps they raced, I didn’t know what the classes were, I didn’t know what the different divisions meant. Honestly, I never imagined it would be this complicated.

  Just as that thought went through my head, I noticed the girls turn into a giggling, preening pack of hyenas. There had to be a guy coming over.

  There sure was.

  “Saxon!” My heart leapt into my throat.

  Not this, not now, not when Jake was so nervous and excited.

  He had a cardboard box balanced on one hand. He wore dark aviator sunglasses and his usual tight thermal top and worn jeans with a studded belt.

  “Hey Blix.” He walked up to me.

  I was practically deafened by the combined hissing of a dozen rejected hussies.

  “You need to leave.” I put my hands up and shook my head.

  He ignored me and sat down by my side. He looked pale, his lips were dry, cracked, and busted in two places and a long bruise purpled his cheek. “I brought something. A peace offering.”

  “What happened to your face?” It looked painful.

  “Forget it. Here.” He pushed the box in my direction.

  Hot dogs all the way and icy Cokes. Salted fries with…

  “Is that vinegar on the fries?” I asked eagerly. What was I thinking? This was Saxon, the guy who had almost ruined what I had with Jake.

  “Yeah.” He put the box in my lap. “I had a feeling you’d be the kind of girl who liked her fries doused in something gross.”

  It was…nice. He looked like he felt guilty. But I had fallen hard and deep into his bullshit before. I wasn’t that stupid.

  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I said over my growling stomach. “You just need to leave.” I picked the box up and passed it back to him.

  “I need to talk to Jake. I need to apologize.” He looked in my direction, but I couldn’t see his eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses.

  “Not now. I’m sitting where he can see me. He’s about to race. If he sees you, you’re going to throw him off.”

  Saxon shoved the carton of food on my lap again. He was looking at Jake, who had already seen him and stalked over.

  “I told him,” I whispered in Saxon’s ear before Jake got close enough to notice. I still cared about Saxon too much to throw him to the wolves completely.

  “What happened to keeping some things between you and me?” he growled through his teeth.

  “There wasn’t enough room for everyone. I had to throw you overboard.”

  He smiled painfully around his split lip. “Like I said; hottest at your bitchy best. Score one, Brenna.”

  Jake was at the sta
nds by now, his eyes bulging with rage.

  “You come for more dental work, Saxon?” He hoisted himself over the gate and into the stands.

  Saxon held up his hands. “Down, killer. I’m here to say that I am a huge asshole. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the shit with Brenna. I’m sorry for what I said about your mom. That’s it. I’m just sorry.”

  “Fine.” Jake shrugged and pointed out of the stands. “Now get the hell out of here and stay away from her.”

  I felt a tad like a piece of meat, but also, somehow, touched. I didn’t exactly like that Jake had reduced me to a single pronoun, but I also knew his anger came from an urge to defend me and prove his trust in me.

  “I thought I’d stick around for the race,” Saxon said. “For old times’ sake.”

  Jake and I looked at each other for a long minute.

  “Did you get Brenna food?” He looked at the box I held. I felt like I should put it down or drop it.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think she would realize how long it could take.” Saxon smiled a little at Jake. Jake sneered back.

  Jake looked directly at me. “Eat, Bren. I’ll be racing in another ten minutes, okay?”

  I laid the box on the bench next to me and put my arms around him. “You can trust me, Jake,” I whispered.

  “I know that,” he whispered back. Then he kissed me, extra long for Saxon’s benefit. He jumped the gate and headed back to the track.

  The pack of girls behind me was practically clawing and hissing.

  Saxon gave them a glance that was pure disgust. A few of them got up and moved farther down the bleachers.

  “So you two laid it all out?” He picked up a fry, looked at it sickly and put it back.

  I felt less guilty eating his food once I realized how much it grossed him out. Based on his phone conversation from the previous night, I could safely assume he had a major hangover.

  “Jake already bared his guts. I was the one who had to quit taking the chicken shit way out.” I chowed down on one of the hotdogs. Saxon looked a little green, which only convinced me to eat with more relish. Pun intended.