by Layla Dorine
Racing the Sky
Layla Dorine
Published by Encompass Ink
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Racing the Sky
Copyright © 2017 by Layla Dorine
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Artist: 8th Floor Studio
Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance
EAL Editing Services
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means without written permission of the author.
Chapter One
Juggling an armload of books and a six-pack of sodas, Victor Murphy shoved open the door to the house he shared with his best friend, Nicholas Erickson, grateful for the surge of A/C that smacked him across the face. Stepping inside, he quickly shut the door against the sticky, oppressive heat, and blinked, disoriented at the darkness of the room.
Thankfully, it didn’t stay that way. The click of a pull chain preceded a dim lamp’s glow, slashing light and shadows across Nicky’s face.
Shaking his head, Vic deposited his books on a high table just inside the door, pulled a soda from the pack, cracked the tab, and drank greedily while studying his friend. Nicky’s attempt at a smile looked more like a grimace as he lifted a bottle in salute, then took a long drink of his own.
Undoing a couple buttons on the brown, short-sleeved oxford shirt he was wearing, Vic sank down in an overstuffed chair and put his feet up, sighing loudly as he got comfortable. “You wanna tell me why the hell you’re sitting here in the dark?”
“Not really.”
Vic snorted and took another drink. Go figure. That was so typical of Nicky. “Okay, so is this a private pity party or can anyone join in?”
“I’m not sulking, or feeling sorry for myself; I’m just sitting here.”
“In the dark, with a bottle of whiskey and sad country music on low?” Vic questioned. “Come on, talk to me, Nicky.”
“I’ve got nothin’ to say.”
Vic sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and stared down at his can. Empty already. Damn, they weren’t going to last long at this rate. When Nicky proved true to his word and didn’t say a thing, Vic looked up at him and glared. “If you won’t talk, then I will.”
Groaning, Nicky slid further down in the chair and took another long drink from his bottle. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Too bad, deal with it. Look, I know it’s hard to accept Terry dumping you. Hell, I was as shocked as you were to find out that he’d been cheating, and with who. Holy shit, I can’t blame you for being pissed. But it’s been a week, man, let it go. He’s all over town with Dirk. Do you think he cares that you’re sitting here moping?”
“I told you, I’m not moping.”
Vic snorted and waved his hand around, gesturing at the room. “Then, pray tell, what is all this if not moping?”
“Enjoying the peace and solitude of the night; or I was, until you showed up and started with your lectures and questions.”
Vic tried not to laugh at the petulant look on Nicky’s face, but a chuckle slipped out anyway. “Being mad at me isn’t going to change things.”
“Maybe not, but I was hoping it might get you to go away.”
Nicky closed his eyes, but was startled into opening them when Vic snatched the bottle from his hand, took a gulp, grimaced, then swallowed hard.
“God, that burns.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t meant for you,” Nicky snarled, snatching the bottle back.
“Look, what Terry did was shitty, but you can’t keep beating yourself up over it.”
“I never said I was sitting here drinking because of him; you’re the one who implied that.”
“Is it because of him?”
“Nope.”
“Then what’s going on with you?”
“For the last time, nothing is going on, so drop it.”
Vic’s eyes narrowed; then he sighed and shook his head. “Fine, consider it dropped, but I know you, and you’ll tell me eventually.”
“Whatever.”
Vic frowned and headed into the kitchen to make a snack. For four years he’d lived in the little house on the corner of Osprey Street with Nicky and Terry, his closest friends from high school. They’d sort of clung together after graduation as Vic had entered college while Terry and Nicky had focused all of their free time on racing motocross.
Nothing had surprised Vic more than when Terry had casually risen from the table the week before and informed both him and Nicky that he was moving out and had been sleeping with Dirk Thompson for the past three weeks. It had devastated Nicky, despite how hard he tried to hide it, and it had angered Vic to see his friend in pain. It had disgusted him too, seeing as how Dirk had a reputation for sleeping around with damn near anyone who’d have him. Hell, Vic had it on good authority that Dirk had propositioned Nicky a time or two.
Both Nicky and Terry were mechanics by day, working at the same auto body shop across town, and raced their dirt bikes together in the evenings. They’d competed in weekend races for years, traveling up and down the coast, hoping to make a living at the thing they loved; and three months ago it had seemed like they were there. Or at least, Nicky was, when he’d landed a sponsorship following a huge win, his sixth of the season.
It hadn’t been long after when Terry had started finding more and more reasons to avoid evening practices with Nicky, but he’d had no reason to suspect Terry’s excuses had been lies. Looking back, Vic wondered if Terry’s jealousy had driven him into another’s arms.
The hardest part of it all was Vic was glad Terry was gone. Selfish as it might be, without Terry around he and Nicky could hang out more, maybe climb some boulders and hike the trails outside of town. Vic loved being up in the mountains, but Terry had almost never wanted to go, and when he had he’d complained or derailed the trip somehow. He’d always wanted to be the center of attention, especially back in high school, and Nicky had never seemed to care.
Easy going, wild child Nicky, with his long, blondish-brown hair, piercing green eyes, and infectious enthusiasm, had been the one Vic had been drawn to; though Nicky scared him at times. He took too many chances and tended to jump headlong into things. At times he could be downright reckless, and Terry had always seemed to egg him on. There had been times when Vic had longed to pull Nicky back, hold him tight, and wrestle him to the ground to keep him from harm, but that would have been like cutting off a bird’s wings, and Nicky, damn he loved to fly.
There were times when he’d envied Nicky and Terry their freedom from the classroom, but in just three weeks he’d be graduating with a degree in ecology and nature studies and was planning to take the summer off before deciding what he wanted to do. Park services was an almost natural choice, and Vic was pretty certain that was the direction he’d choose. Still, it would be nice to have time off to be sure. Especially now that Nicky was free.
Sighing, Vic sat at the table with his beer and a couple of slices of cold pizza from the fridge, listening to country songs drifting in from the other room. Sad, melancholy lyrics bemoaning loves lost and dreams broken filled the room, one after the other, reminding Vic of why he’d never bee
n a country fan. He thought about burning that CD, but knowing Nicky, he’d just make another one and likely play it louder. Better to leave him be and let him get it all out of his system. He had to get tired of it sometime.
After finishing his snack, Vic wiped the table, washed his dish, and turned out the light, determined to get the last ecology chapter read before he called it a night. Thank God he didn’t have any classes before noon. He’d never get any studying done if he couldn’t do it late at night when the house was quiet and focus was easier to maintain.
Passing through the living room, Vic saw that Nicky had fallen asleep in the chair, the bottle of whiskey in his hand. At least he’d screwed on the cap. Vic carefully removed it and sat it on the floor beside the chair. Snatching a throw blanket from the couch, Vic covered Nicky and headed to his room.
***
Nicky woke with a throbbing pain behind his eyes and an awful crick in his neck. Not to mention he was pretty sure his left leg was asleep, and he had to piss. With a groan, he opened his eyes and instantly regretted it when sunlight from the living room’s bay window assaulted him. Shielding his eyes, Nicky stumbled to the bathroom, leaving the lights out while he took care of business. His body ached from having spent the night in the chair and his brain screamed that it needed coffee.
He washed his hands and headed to the kitchen, slamming his shoulder into the doorframe on the way. Cussing, he considered just stumbling upstairs to bed when a loud beating on the door caused him to swear more and change directions. Yanking the door open, he cringed at the light, sun spots erupting in front of his eyes and blinding him to who stood there. Terry’s electric blue gaze scowled down at him, framed by his stylishly spiky black hair.
“You look like shit,” Terry commented, practically pushing past Nicky to step inside.
Nicky grunted, unsure of how to respond to that, and not sure if he really wanted to.
“We came for the rest of my things,” Terry stated flippantly, already crossing the living room as Dirk stepped past Nicky.
Of all the fucking nerve. Nicky saw red and closed his eyes, willing himself not to slam the door and throttle Dirk, or, better still, throttle Dirk, toss him out on the lawn, slam the door on him, and then spend the next hour cussing at Terry. Taking a deep breath, Nicky paused, then blew it out slowly as he counted to thirty. Only then did he finally close the door. His head felt like broken glass and he desperately wanted a drink. He even considered detouring to the kitchen to get one, but Dirk and Terry were already upstairs in the bedroom, and Nicky wasn’t about to leave them there alone.
Rubbing his temples, Nicky followed them, stopping in the doorway as Terry pulled a suitcase from the back of the closet and began to pack.
“Hey,” Nicky piped up. “That’s my T-shirt.”
Terry scowled and threw it at him.
“Those are my jeans too.”
Terry held them up, looking them over before he tossed them to Nicky. “They look better on me.”
Nicky seethed as he counted to thirty and then counted to thirty again, holding his tongue rather than going off on Terry.
Terry had turned his attention back to packing and picked up the rune necklace from the dresser that matched the one he was wearing and put it in his pocket.
Nicky’s eyes widened as he did, and he could feel himself getting clammy and cold. “Why are you taking mine?”
“Because I bought them,” Terry reminded him, not even turning around to see the look of hurt on Nicky’s face. Every race since sophomore year when Terry had purchased the runes for them, they’d worn them as good luck charms. It was hard for Nicky to believe that Terry was actually going to take his away. It was more than a prized possession; it was a symbol of failures and triumphs.
“Wanna move?” Dirk asked, and Nicky blinked at having been caught reliving the past.
“Wanna die?” Nicky shot back, shoving Dirk. Before he could do anything more, Terry had pushed him into the wall, hard enough to crack the plaster.
“I thought you were more mature than that, Nicky,” Terry snapped as he pinned Nicky by his shirt.
Nicky wiggled and fought, tears pricking his eyes. “Why the fuck did you have to bring him here for, huh, Terry? Was it just to rub it in my face?”
“Newsflash, Nicky, not everything has to do with you. He’s my boyfriend. He’s helping me move. Why don’t you go take a shower or something and leave us alone? You smell like a fuckin’ brewery.”
Nicky struggled out of Terry’s grasp and grabbed up the jeans and T-shirt Terry had thrown at him. Stalking into the bathroom, he slammed the door, shaking it in its frame seconds before he rammed his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered and several chunks of it fell into the sink, but it did make him feel just a little bit better. Home repairs were going to be a bitch at this point, but he was beyond caring as he turned the water on hot enough to scald. Stepping beneath the spray, he gasped and let the heat wash over him. Pain helped, as did thinking about the ride he was going to go on as soon as he got done.
Nicky washed his hair and let the water flow over his face, all the while telling himself to calm down, that losing his shit because Terry decided to be a dick wasn’t going to help anyone, especially him. Remembering Terry stuffing that rune into his pocket was almost too much and he had to resist the urge to punch the wall. With a furious oath, he turned off the water and got dressed, realizing as he did that his boots were back in his room.
Still drying his hair with a towel, he entered the bedroom in time to see Terry with Dirk pressed against the dresser, kissing him passionately.
“Get your shit and get the fuck out!” Nicky yelled.
Terry broke the kiss slowly before looking over his shoulder and giving Nicky a lazy smile. “Dude, you need to chill. We’re almost done. Besides, I paid my share of the utilities for the month. I’ll go when I’m ready.”
Nicky swallowed hard, trying to control the surge of rage that was threatening to spread out of control.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Vic bellowed from the doorway, glaring at the three men in the room with tired, bloodshot eyes. His hair was disheveled and he hadn’t even bothered to pull on a shirt. Nicky jumped at the sound of his voice and turned, fists clenched. Terry still had Dirk pressed to the dresser.
“Damn,” Vic muttered from the doorway, eyes on the two men across the room.
“I’m going out,” Nicky grumbled, finally able to make himself move. He got his keys and boots, trying not to look at Terry as he did.
As he passed Vic in the doorway he hardly felt the other man’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Be careful.”
“Just get his key before he leaves,” Nicky snarled, shrugging off the hand.
“I lost it. Why do you think I knocked?” Terry shot back.
“Whatever,” Nicky muttered as he turned and headed out the door. It didn’t take him long to load his bike in the back of his truck and leave. As soon as he hit the highway he felt calmer, and thirty minutes later, when he reached his destination, he almost felt normal again. He unloaded his bike and went through the usual ritual of checking it over before he pulled on his helmet and hit the track.
Riding fast and loose, he put the bike over the first few jumps with little flair, then broke into a backflip on the high one. The feel of the air, the roar of the machine: it was like the bike and his heartbeat became one and pushed everything else away. He wobbled a bit on the landing, easily corrected, and then gunned the throttle, pushing for more speed before launching into another jump. It was like breathing, easy, in and out, over the dirt mounds, into the air, body and machine in perfect sync. He never wanted it to end.
***
Vic remained in the doorway while Terry packed. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the frame. “Want to tell me why you have to be such a dick to him?”
Terry glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “He’s the one with the problem, not me. I just came to get my stuf
f; then I’m gone.”
“Yeah, and bringing Dirk here wasn’t your way of deliberately provoking him?”
“I can bring Dirk wherever I want.”
“Yeah, you can,” Vic conceded. “But did you ever stop to think that maybe you shouldn’t? Doubt you’d like it much if the shoe was on the other foot.”
Terry scoffed. “Yeah, like Nicky ever would have left me. He knows he had it good.”
Vic’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he stood there wishing he could knock the smirk off Terry’s face. It might not do anyone any good, but it would make him feel better at least. He resisted the urge while Terry finished packing, saying nothing more. As Terry and Dirk were leaving, Terry paused and gave Vic a lopsided smile.
“Look, we’ve been friends a long time, and I don’t want that to end,” Terry told him. “We’re having a barbecue at our new apartment next weekend, and I really hope you’ll come. Saturday at two. If we have enough people we’re going to get a touch football game going and maybe even break out the Super Soakers too.”
“Maybe,” Vic muttered.
Terry and Dirk turned and headed for their truck, leaving Vic standing in the doorway. He knew he had no intention of going to their gathering, and as they pulled away he called Nicky’s cell phone, letting him know that Terry and Dirk were gone. Worried for Nicky’s well-being with the mindset he’d left in, Vic asked him to call back when he got the message, knowing it would likely be a while. He just hoped Nicky was safe.
In the meantime, he sat at his desk, cracked open a textbook, rummaged around in his mini-fridge for a soda, and tried to read. He reread the same paragraph three times before frustration hit and he slammed the book closed, his hand sweeping in a wide arc, knocking the soda from the desk.