Racing the Sky

by Layla Dorine

  “What will you guys do once you figure out what it is?”

  “Try and locate its den and set traps for it, or trap it and tranquilize it. See about relocating it outside of the area, somewhere there’s less chance of it coming into contact with people.”

  “So you won’t kill it?”

  “No, never. Our jobs are about conservation, not destruction. Only way we’ll put it down is if it actually attacks a person,” Vic said.

  River nodded and reached for a slice of pizza, the gooey cheese sticking the piece beside it, forcing him to take both, “Have you ever seen one up close?”

  “No, but I’d like to.” Vic helped himself to a couple slices as well. “I sure hope I’m working the day it’s caught.”

  “Just be careful that you don’t end up on the business end of those claws,” River remarked.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Vic chuckled. “Those would be some pretty badass scars though.”

  River laughed at that. “Not sure I’d wanna be that badass.”

  “Hey, chicks dig scars, right?” Vic laughed.

  “More than just chicks dig scars,” River muttered.

  “Huh?”

  River looked straight ahead, eyes focused on the TV as he took a bite of his food. He shrugged, not even glancing over at Vic. “Just sayin’,” he finely grumbled when Vic didn’t stop looking at him.

  Neither said too much more; they passed the evening in companionable silence, finishing off the pizza and the beers and staring at the races, groaning when their favorite black and green truck ended up on its hood instead of finishing. By the time it went off, River was blinking sleepily.

  “Why don’t you crash on the couch for the night?” Vic suggested.

  “Yeah, I’d better. Was a long day and I’m feelin’ those beers.”

  Vic got a couple blankets and a pillow while River kicked off his boots and socks, but after he pulled off his shirt, River caught Vic staring a little longer than necessary. He smirked and lazily rolled his abs, making Vic flush and tear his eyes off of them.

  “Night,” Vic muttered.

  “Good night, Vic,” River replied, chuckling low as Vic made a hasty retreat up the stairs.

  Settling down on the couch, River muted the television and closed his eyes. As he drifted off, he found himself wondering what Vic would do if he decided he was done with flirting, pressed Vic against the wall, and kissed him senseless.

  ***

  It was not unusual for Nicky to roll himself into the Rec room at the end of a long day and rack him and Raff up a game of pool. What was unusual was when Raff dropped himself into a chair and glowered at the table rather than break. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to have had a bad day in one of their physical therapy sessions; what was uncommon was for both of them to be snarling expletives at the objects in the room. In Nicky’s case he was cussing the cue and his clumsy fingers; in Raff’s it was the chair, the table itself, his prosthesis, and his very existence all in the same breath. Nicky finally broke when Raff refused to. If one could call it a break; the balls barely went anywhere. Great, that was just one more thing he’d lost. Growling, he sat back glaring at the table as Raff continued to grumble.

  “Here,” a voice spoke up from behind him. A red-haired man with scars crisscrossing his face pulled up in a chair beside Nicky, one hand mangled and resting on his lap.

  “Let me show you an easier way,” the man said, and held out his good hand for the stick, which Nicky passed to him. The man rested the stick on his wrist, then nailed the cue ball, sending it smacking into the six and sinking it.

  Nicky blinked. “Thanks,” he said, and glanced over at Raff, who wasn’t even paying attention.

  “No problem,” the redhead said, and handed the stick back to Nicky.

  Nicky lined up his next shot, balancing the cue on his wrist, and, sure enough, he managed a stronger, more precise hit.

  “Sweet,” he said, his bad mood at once lifted.

  “Doesn’t look like your friend is much interested in a game tonight. Do you mind if I play?”

  “I don’t mind,” Nicky said, and he still didn’t mind when, after fifteen minutes of determined playing, he lost. He hit more balls than normal, and he hadn’t had to fight with his stiff and aching hand, which had raised his spirits considerably.

  “I’m Daniel, by the way,” the redhead said.

  “Nicky.” He offered his good hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” Daniel said. “I’ve seen you guys playing before, but you always seemed so engrossed in whatever you were talking about that I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Usually we’re just bitching about how bad one of our PT sessions went,” Nicky admitted.

  “I hear that,” Daniel said, then held up a rack. “Another game?”

  Nikki glanced over to see that Raff had maneuvered himself across the room to the window and was staring out. “Nah. Some other time though. I better go see what’s up with him. He’s not himself tonight.”

  Daniel nodded. “You guys are lucky to have found someone to click with. Most of the folks in here seem to stick to themselves, still wrapped up in what got them here and all.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard not to be,” Nicky said.

  “I know. I’ve been there too. I’m just trying to tell you that it gets easier when you can take your mind off it for a bit. Remember that you’re a regular person instead of someone damaged.”

  Nikki gave him a nod of understanding, and it dawned on him that Daniel was probably talking as much about himself as he was about them.

  “Play again tomorrow night?” Nicky asked hopefully.

  Daniel’s eyes brightened. “I’ll be here,” he said, and then wheeled away.

  Nicky wheeled himself up beside Raff and nudged him with his leg. “So, what’s got you so pissed tonight?”

  “Just these goddamned sores. They keep telling me that newer models won’t cause as many and that they’re common as I’m learning to use the prosthetic, but my insurance won’t pay for the high-tech models, and it’s not like I can actually work right now to buy one myself, so I’m screwed. Using crutches without the prosthesis makes my underarms hurt like hell, and now they’re saying I have to wait for the latest sore to heal before using the prosthesis again. At this rate, I’m starting to feel like I’m going to be here forever. There just always seems to be sores to heal from, or abscesses to drain, and I…damn it, I’m thinking about giving up and saying fuck learning to use one. I’ll just park my ass in a chair for the rest of my life.”

  Despite his own aversion to being stuck in the chair, Nicky could understand where his friend was coming from. He also understood that just sitting and listening would go a lot further than giving unwanted advice.

  “I’d miss you,” Nicky said at last.

  Raff growled. “I don’t want to fuckin’ leave; I’m just so goddamned frustrated!” He reached up and brushed a hand through his hair, tugging at some of the strands. “I thought about calling my folks and asking them to come up, but I know what my old man would say, and if I told him about the prosthesis, he’d insist on tapping into their retirement fund, and I don’t want that. I don’t want them out there building a damn ramp on the front of my house either. I’ve been slowly fixing the place up for years, and I’ve got plans to build a porch there.”

  Nikki chuckled. “So you can sit on it and threaten little kids with your cane, tell them to get off your lawn and turn the hose on them if they walk too close to your begonias?”

  Raff looked stunned, then burst out laughing. “Do you even know what a begonia is?”

  “Some kind of flower little old ladies love and feel viciously protective of?” Nicky offered.

  “Something tells me that begonias and little old ladies threatening you is something you are intimately familiar with.”

  “Before dirt bikes, I liked skateboards,” Nicky admitted. “I may have crash-landed in a begonia bush a time or two.”

  Raff doub
led over, roaring with laughter. It took him a while to gain his composure, sit up, and wipe his eyes. “Thanks, man, I needed that. The image of you in a begonia bush, with flowers and leaves all tangled in your hair…yeah, I’m not gonna get that out of my head for a while.”

  Put that way, Nicky started cracking up too.

  “Actually,” Raff said, “the porch is supposed to be for building models. I was planning to screen it in. I figured I could sit out there with a pitcher of lemonade and work on some planes and stuff. That way I’m not spending days trying to air out my living room to get rid of the stench of paint and glue.”

  “Good idea.” Nicky remembered the chemical smell from the one time he had tried to build a model muscle car. He’d quickly discovered that his fondness for the real thing superseded any enjoyment to be found in putting together the miniatures.

  “I need to build some benches around the fire pit in my backyard,” Nicky said. “And a Jacuzzi. After all the time I’ve spent in the one here, I can’t imagine going home and not having all that hot water soothing the stiffness away.”

  “I don’t have enough yard space for a Jacuzzi, let alone a fire pit. Though, damn, it would be nice to have a barbeque.”

  Nicky nodded, and the two started discussing in earnest all of the things they planned to build, fix, or change around their respective homes. It was a welcome respite from feeling sorry for themselves, and by the time they said goodnight each was in much better spirits.

  ***

  Terry,

  Your dad asked me to write this. I thought about writing a bunch of “fuck yous”. Hell, I’ll be honest, I did scrawl a bunch of them all over a piece of paper. But in the end I tore it up. I guess because your dad was right: I did love you once. More than I’d ever loved anyone or anything, even racing, and I don’t want you to treat the next person who comes into your life the way you treated me. I was never blind to the way you treated me. I knew I wasn’t as important to you as you were to me, but I accepted that because it never occurred to me to try and change you. You were just Terry, and for all your faults, what I always saw first was the guy who made me laugh, the daredevil I admired, the stubborn shit who wouldn’t give up until he got whatever he was struggling with. I always admired the way you could talk to anyone. To me you were fearless, didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought, and weren’t afraid to be different and let everyone know it. You were also the guy who got angry after we went to Sea World because it didn’t feel right to you, seeing all those majestic creatures in tiny little tanks. You’re the guy who punched out Morgan Dupree for wrecking Kylie Adams’ art project and making her cry, and you were the guy who tried to make me feel like it was okay to be the only person with no family to come to their graduation, by reminding me that I had you and Vic, so I wasn’t alone.

  I always figured we were each other’s family, you, me, and Vic, but I’m glad to hear that you reconciled with your dad. I still wish that was something I had a chance to do. I gotta be honest here, Terry, after everything we shared, hating you is hard, especially when I’m sitting here writing this and thinking back on all the good shit you did, even if it was mostly for others. I’ll never understand why you stayed with me but kept me at arm’s length. Why you felt the need to put me down and deny me affection. What was so wrong with me that you were never able to love me the way that I loved you? It scares me, being with Gray. He’s so different from you, but I keep on wondering when I’ll mess up or when he’ll realize I’m not worthy and start shoving me away, especially now that I’m broken and can’t even say I’m a good racer anymore. I’ve got nothing to offer him, or anyone really, so I guess in a way I brought this whole mess on myself. Maybe if I had tried harder you wouldn’t have come to hate me so much. Guess I fucked up both of our lives being stupid out there and showing off. Anyway, now you know why I stuck around. Kinda selfish of me; wasn’t it? Should have known admiration wouldn’t spark affection, but damn, Terry, being with you was like walking hand in hand with the sun. Should have known I’d get burned.

  Nicky.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was early the next morning when Terry pulled into the driveway of the house he used to live in with Nicky and Vic. He was shocked to see River’s car sitting between Vic’s jeep and Nicky’s truck. For a moment, Terry just sat there, reminiscing about some of the more interesting times they’d shared.

  When they’d first moved in together they had all been drunk on the freedom of having graduated and being in their own place. Nicky’s place, really, since his father’s insurance had paid for it. They’d lived like complete slobs that first year, until they’d taken a hard look around and noticed what a sty they were dwelling in. The lawn looked great, and they spent a good chunk of their free time out there, tossing a Frisbee around, working on dirt bikes, and barbecuing, but the inside had looked like a frat house.

  Terry laughed to himself, thinking about Nicky tying mop heads to his feet and trying to mop the kitchen floor. He’d been lucky not to break an ankle the way he slid and careened around the room, falling several times until his shirt was so soaked he’d had to strip it off. Terry had been vacuuming the living room, or at least that was what he was supposed to be doing; he’d ended up ogling Nicky instead, and damn near clogged the vacuum when he’d accidentally run over a shoestring.

  It was the memory of those moments, and the letter he’d received from Nicky the day before, that had prompted him to drive over this morning. Things might have ended badly, but Nicky had been right: there’d been a time when they’d been happy and when he had known how to treat the people who were important in his life. Terry had come to realize that Jake was one of those people, and the newfound friendship they’d forged was very important to him. For all the wrongs he’d done to his cousin in the past, he’d come here this morning, looking to do something nice for him. He tried the bell, but it was still out of order. He grinned to himself; they’d always been slow on home repairs. Instead, he knocked loud enough that there was no way Vic could sleep through it.

  Vic answered, looking bleary eyed and disheveled, his messy brown hair sticking in several different directions. No doubt he’d just gotten up, but then that was exactly why Terry had stopped by so early: he’d been hoping to catch Vic before he left for work.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Vic growled, anger replacing exhaustion.

  Terry took a step back and held his hands up in front of him, the smile slipping off his face. “Relax. God, Vic, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”

  “You, by being here!” Vic snapped.

  Terry sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Look, you hate me, I get it, and I don’t see you forgiving me anytime soon, which sucks. You were a good friend, better than I deserved. I just… I’m trying to turn my life around and I really just came by to ask about good locations to take wildlife photos.”

  “When have you ever been interested in the outdoors?”

  “I deserved that. Hell, the shit part of it is, I loved being in the woods as a kid, fishing and running trap lines with my grandpa.”

  “Wait. What?” Vic’s eyed widened.

  “My grandparents have a farm. I spent a lot of time there as a kid.”

  “So what, you just developed hay fever and an aversion to trees when you got older?” Vic asked, his face a study in confusion.

  “I never had hay fever,” Terry admitted.

  Vic stood blinking, and then his face darkened. “You lying bastard. Why the hell were you forever using that as an excuse not to do shit?”

  Terry struggled to meet Vic’s eyes. “I was jealous, okay? You and Nicky had so much more in common than we ever did. I know he would’ve spent much more time with you if I hadn’t said that and come up with other stuff for us to do.”

  “He’d have loved you no less for having spent more time with me.”

  “You sure about that?” Terry asked. “Look, I know how you felt about him, feel, whatever, and I never asked if he fe
lt anything for you except friendship ’cause I didn’t want to know.”

  “So you manipulated him!” Vic said, not even bothering to make it a question.

  “Yeah, I did. I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him. Even if I did completely fuck all of that up in the end.”

  “Yeah, your loss, thankfully. You never deserved him. Now get back to the fucking point of why you’re waking me up this morning.”

  “My cousin is a photographer. We were talking out at the farm a few nights ago and he mentioned wanting to do wildlife photos. You’re the only one I know who’d know where to send him to get really good shots.”

  “Well, after this do me a favor and forget you know me.” Vic turned and went back in, muttering to himself.

  He soon returned with a map with a series of red circles on it and all but shoved it into Terry’s hand. “I hope, for your sake, that you do stop being a dick and that you honestly work on changing the way you treat people, but don’t come back here again. I’m not your friend, and I’m not going to forgive what you did, especially not after finding out all the shit you lied about over the years.”

  Terry felt a flash of fury knife through him and his fists clenched. He considered asking Vic about all of the times he’d lied and said he was Terry’s friend, only to be eyeing up Nicky, but none of that really mattered anymore. Hanging his head, Terry slowly exhaled. “Fine, I’ll go, but thanks for this. I’m sure my cousin will appreciate it.”

  “Maybe. As long as he’s nothing like you.” Vic slammed the door in Terry’s face, making him jump.

  ***

  It had taken a few days to switch his PT schedule. Dr. Anderson had wanted to be sure Nicky fully understood what he was getting into. Wheeling into the stable the first time, Nicky was in awe.

  “I didn’t realize they were so tall,” he muttered.

  “Come closer and we can introduce you to a few of them,” Dr. Anderson insisted.