“Then you need to get that ruthless part of yourself back, the one that drove you to win at all costs.”
“You know that was the old man’s doing,” I said through gritted teeth, the memories of my father poking at the edges of my mind. “I just want to ride, Ralph.”
“I know, Finn, but you’ve also made this your job, which means you need to get paid. To get paid, you must win. I’m not asking you to cheat, I’m asking you to get aggressive.”
“And what if someone gets hurt?” I asked bitterly, more bad memories of my younger days flooding my mind.
“You’re older with better skills now. You’re not a kid, and your Dad’s not running the show. You can still race safely and win at the same time,” Channing offered. “Let’s get out there and practice. I’m not above dirty tricks. Show me how you’ll beat me.”
“It’s hardly a challenge, Chan. I’ve been kicking your ass since we met.”
“Yeah, but I’m good enough to be your practice partner. It’s not like you always beat me. Now, let’s grab the ditch humpers and have some fun while calling it practice.”
I dropped the ball on Ralph’s desk. My thoughts of Kenni had been replaced by the chilling specter of my father’s former influence and the fateful day, everything collapsed on me. I shuddered, feeling queasy as I tried to shove away the mental images of that black day. I reminded myself a long time had passed, and I’d atoned for my sins. I wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old kid, racing recklessly. I was a grown adult with a good team and an even better manager. He wouldn’t steer me astray. The truth was I did need to put Matt in his place and show him I owned this sport. It was time to get dirty.
We loaded the play bikes into the back of my F150 and headed out for a track in the high desert, about an hour’s ride from my place in Culver City. Channing kicked back in the rear seat, pulling his ball cap low over his eyes, claiming he needed to center his chi or some Zen bullshit. Ralph sat next to me, his gaze drifting over to me, again and again.
“What’s on your mind? I see you peeking at me out of the corner of your eye,” I inquired, turning my head to look directly at him.
“Keep your eyes on the road, kid. I’m just thinking.”
“I thought I smelled smoke,” I replied with a grin. “Seriously, though, what’s troubling you?”
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I feel like I owe you an apology.”
My stomach dropped like it always did at the mere hint of my father, but I waved it and Ralph’s concerns aside.
“It’s fine. It’s ancient history, Ralph. Time to focus on the prize, right?” I said with a fake but hopefully convincing grin. I was grateful for my mirrored sunglasses.
“Just wanted you to know I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” he said with a solemn tilt of his head.
“Insensitive? What, are we pre-teen girls, now? Pfft,” I replied with a raspberry noise, then quickly changed the subject. “We’re going to own this season, you know that, right?”
“As long as you’re committed to putting that Boy Scout routine on the back burner, the sky’s the limit.”
“Superhero, you mean,” I corrected him like I always did.
“Whatever. Just stick that do-gooder attitude up your ass and tell me you’re going to rip it up.”
“I already told you I was on board,” I replied with a vague middle finger wave.
“Show me that fuck you attitude on the track when you’re racing against the bum in the back,” Ralph said, jerking his thumb toward Channing, who also gave him a one-finger salute. “I need to know you haven’t forgotten everything after all these years, playing goody-two-shoes.”
“You know me. There isn’t anything I can’t do on a bike. I don’t even need two wheels.”
Channing snorted and pulled his ball cap lower.
“Put your money where your mouth is, dickhead,” he grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest, daring me.
“Fifty bucks says I have you in the weeds within the first lap.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he replied, finally sitting up fully. Ralph dipped into his pocket for his wallet at the same time.
“I’m putting my money down on Channing. No offense, Finn.”
“Both of you shut the fuck up,” I said, trying not to laugh as I flipped my wallet to Ralph. “You’re dicks. Hold on to my money. You’re going to be giving it back to me shortly.”
We ribbed and insulted each other the rest of the way to the track. By the time we arrived, Channing and I had already bet our homes, the names of our future children, and our retirement funds on the outcome of our practice session. We were out of the truck almost as soon as I stopped, racing to unload the bikes and prove the other wrong.
We spent the day playing in the dirt. I was after the fastest line or the best way to ride a section of the track, every single time we raced. Channing did a good job of keeping me behind him, brake-checking me at every corner. I did my fair share of getting around him and returning the favor. By the time we were done, Ralph called it a draw. I was satisfied, reassured I could still fight my way through a tough race, but my main plan of attack was always to get ahead and stay that way. It was the safest path to a win, and safety was top priority to me.
“You guys smell like flaming ass hair surprise,” Ralph said as we loaded the bikes back onto the truck. “I’m not looking forward to the ride home in such close quarters.”
“Just wait, old man. We get to hear Channing complain about his case of monkey-butt from riding all day long, too.”
“What? I don’t have callused cheeks like you do, Hawkins. My ass is as soft as a baby’s bottom.”
“Oh, sure,” I replied. “It looks just like one, too, except for the layer of fur all over it.”
“Fuck you. I don’t get any complaints.”
“Doesn’t mean your wife gives you any compliments, either,” Ralph snorted.
We made the trek back home, tired but satisfied with how the day had gone. We agreed to spend every day of the week leading up to Supercross grinding, going over every defensive block in my wheelhouse. Channing had always been good riding defensively but chose to get out of racing when his girlfriend, Melanie, turned up pregnant at eighteen, and he needed a more secure way of providing for a new family. Being my mechanic gave him a regular salary, kept him in the world he loved, but also afforded him the chance to ride with me regularly.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to work on every block pass known to the sport. I want you to stuff Channing as many times as you can,” Ralph advised formally.
“I heard he likes that sort of thing,” I quipped as I steered the truck off the freeway ramp, back toward Ralph’s garage. Channing knocked me on the back of the head.
“Hey! I’m trying to drive.”
“You deserved it. Besides, you’re a better driver than a racer. I knew we were safe.”
We left the bikes loaded in the truck bed since we planned to head out at dawn the next day, and they were the play bikes—thrashed past the point of being useful race machines, but in good enough condition we could ride them hard with no worries. No one in their right mind would steal them.
After I dropped everyone off, I returned home. I’d had a fulfilling day, but once I’d showered and changed into my comfortable clothes, I was alone with my thoughts. Memories of my father kept trying to creep in, so I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from my wet bar and poured a healthy glass. Lying on my sofa, alternately sipping and flipping through channels on cable, I tried to occupy my mind. Kenni’s face appeared unbidden but so very welcome. I took another drink, holding the mouthful for a moment, feeling the sting of the alcohol before swallowing and savoring the burn in my throat.
Remembering the image of her wide eyes looking up at me the moment we met made me feel like someone was squeezing my chest. I was breathless but amazed. Nothing and no one had ever stirred that kind of reaction. I wanted more—needed it. I couldn’t imagine having to wait another five days before I
’d see her again at the Supercross opening. I was planning to make it worth the wait, to spend time with her before we left Anaheim, but I knew I had my work cut out for me. It was turning out to be my year for hard effort, but I looked forward to it with a relish, unlike any other.
Supercross. I dreaded it almost as much as I geeked out over it. I loved going on the circuit, feeling the infectious enthusiasm of every race, watching the freestylers’ amazing tricks. It was all fantastic, but following my clash with Dalton Simmons, it had far less appeal. I hated bumping into people who were once my friends. Worse than those who believed his rumors were the ones who looked at me with pity on their faces but no kind words on their lips. I didn’t need their sympathy, but I had needed their loyalty. Two years later and I was just as much an outcast as I was the days immediately following my breakup with Dalton. I stayed in the pit most of the time to keep contact outside Team Michaels to a minimum. I hadn’t been faced with his ugly mug since I punched him in front of everyone at the Ladies’ MX Pro Am two years before, but his laughter still haunted me. If I did run into him again, this time I’d go for his junk…. with my favorite wrench.
“Kenni, can you give me a hand over here?” Matt called as he inspected his racing bike. I wondered what the hell was wrong now. If I could have banned him from using it, I would have. Thoughts of him running along the track behind the other riders made me smile. He needed to learn to work more with his bike than against it. I kept telling him he needed to treat it like a lover, but he always came back with the smart remark that he rode them hard, too. Of course, it always earned an eyeroll from me. You’d think I’d learn and pick a new analogy.
“Whatcha need?” I asked, blowing a bubble with my chewing gum until it popped as I came alongside him.
“I need you to do some wrenching, of course. The suspension seems off, but I need to get to the technical briefing, so I don’t have time to show you what’s wrong. Take it out for a quick ride, and you’ll see what I mean.”
“You know I can’t run a four-fifty. Why don’t you ask Wally?”
“I looked for him, but he’s vanished,” Matt said, looking down at his watch. “I’m sorry, Kenni, I gotta go. You’re the best.”
I gave him a wry smile as he kissed my forehead, then strode out of the pit. I loved my brother, but he was a smug, demanding asshole. I looked around for Wally, but Matt was right. He’d just disappeared.
The briefing wouldn’t take too long, so I had no time to find Matt’s wayward manager. I’d have to do the test ride after all. Giving myself a pep talk, I tried to make myself believe I could handle a straight ride. I just couldn’t do complicated maneuvers like turning around without laying it down.
I mounted the bike, ready to turn it over when a familiar figure strolled under our tent.
“Hey there, Kenni,” Finn greeted me with his crooked grin. “You racing with us, today?”
“Hardly,” I snorted as I pointed to my feet. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my toes barely reach the ground.”
“I did,” he laughed, hands on his hips. “What are you doing then?”
“Matt says he has a problem with the suspension, but he had to get to the technical briefing, so he couldn’t give me details. Say, shouldn’t you be there, too?”
“I should, but I had to come see about a girl.”
“You better get your butt over there unless you want to end up disqualified,” I warned, wondering why I even cared.
“I will… under one condition,” he said, coming around the front of the bike and balancing his elbows on the handlebars, chin resting on his fists.
“What’s that?” I asked shakily, unnerved by his nearness. His face was too temptingly close to mine. He’s a racer, Kenni. Just like all the others.
“Say you’ll come out with me tonight after the race. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I told you, I don’t really drink, Finn. The other night met my cocktail quota for the year. Now, stand back.” I tried to nudge the bike forward to dislodge him, but my strength was no match for his.
“Come on, just one little drink,” he asked, that tempting gleam in his eyes making my knees weak.
“Fine. I’ll just have a Diet Coke, so if you’re hoping to get me drunk, you’re out of luck.”
“Damn. Back to the drawing board,” Finn said, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “I’ll behave…. until I think up another sketchy plan.”
“Get out of my way, so I can take this thing out for a spin, champ.”
“Champ. I like the way you think.”
“Argh!” I gurgled in frustration. “Just move already.”
“Not until you promise you’ll come,” he teased, straightening up and shaking the bars to the bike, trying to knock me off this time.
“I already said I would! Now get out of my way.”
He released his hold on the bike slowly, taking care to ensure I had it under control.
“Kenni, let me take it for a quick ride for you. I’ll let you know what’s wrong with it. I don’t want to see you wipe out and hurt yourself.”
“Are you crazy? Matt would kill me if I let you anywhere near this bike, especially before a race. He’d flip if he saw you this close to it now,” I replied, biting my lip. It was a big bike, and though I could operate it in the simplest of terms, I wasn’t likely to get the same sensation Matt did when he rode it. I really would benefit from the help, and Matt would be gone for at least another half hour. Though I probably shouldn’t, I trusted Finn.
“Get off,” he said, motioning for me to dismount. “If your brother has an issue, I’ll handle it.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to let the one racer my brother despises almost as much as Dalton Simmons ride his bike right before showtime,” I said, climbing off against my better judgment.
“What’s he got against Simmons?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked in wonder. How could he not know? Dalt had been dropping hints to anyone who’d listen as often as he could.
“I mean, he’s an asshole, I don’t blame Matt, but hate’s a strong word for a rider who can barely keep his bike on the track,” Finn replied dryly.
I couldn’t help it, the comment started a fit of the giggles. Dalton wasn’t a bad racer, but he wasn’t the most talented guy on the circuit, either. If anyone was a dirty trickster, it was him. I was far more at ease, knowing not only did Finn seem perfectly unaware of the rumors that burned through the circuit like wildfire just two years ago, he wasn’t likely to side with the creep who started them.
“Alright,” I said, squelching a laugh. Finn Hawkins did not need to know he was getting to me. “Go ahead and take a quick ride. Do not do anything but take it around the perimeter of the track. Don’t try to jump the whoops, and for the love of God, don’t do any stunts. Just one quick trip around outside, okay?”
“You’re the boss,” he said as he took my place on the machine. “I’ll be right back.”
Before I knew it, he’d sped out of the pit and was gone. He didn’t even ask for a helmet, though I supposed he wasn’t likely to chew asphalt on just a quick trip. I prayed I wasn’t being stupid, letting him take off with Matt’s bike. Matt would explode if he ever found out. I stood there, worrying my hands together until Finn came motoring back in.
“Thank God, you’re back,” I breathed, relieved he’d made it in before we got caught by Matt.
“Aww, did you miss me, Kenni?” he said, cocking his head to the side and grinning with that stupid sparkly smile and equally dumb thick, glossy brown hair taunting me.
“No, dumbass. I was worried you’d taken Matt’s bike to sabotage it.” I said, grabbing hold of the handlebars and jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “Off.”
“Your admirable opinion of me notwithstanding, there’s nothing major wrong. You just need to adjust the compression damping. It handles rough right now, but a small amount of wrenching will set her to rights.”
“Why couldn’t Ma
tt just tell me that?” I grumbled. “It’s not like he wouldn’t realize that was the problem.”
“Not a clue, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he had, I would’ve had to rely on my charm to get you to come out with me. Blackmail is so much more effective.”
My mouth went dry at his words, and a shiver ran through me. I felt sick to my stomach, even though I knew Finn was kidding. His face was nothing but a picture of innocent humor, so he wasn’t being cruel, but I cringed inside. I tried to smile back, but it was weak at best. His blackmail comment struck far too close to home. I was sure it was a joke, but it left me feeling cold.
“Go get briefed before you get DSQ next to your name. You definitely don’t want to be disqualified now, not after you didn’t finish your last race.”
He reached out, tracing a finger along the length of my jaw, a soft look in his gray eyes. They were the same shade of stormy skies on a wintry afternoon, but rather than making me think of cuddly, warm blankets and hot apple cider, my unease was swiftly replaced by visions of tangled white sheets and sweat-dampened skin.
“I’d get disqualified for you, Kenni,” he said softly, a real smile hovering at the edges of his lips.
“I don’t think your team would appreciate that, especially not the first day of Supercross. Go!” I said, shooing him away, feeling more and more off-kilter as I clung to the shreds of my indifferent act. I needed him gone, so I could get my wits back.
Finn hesitated for a moment as I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me again. In the end, he shook his head softly, winked, and walked out of the pit. I wheeled Matt’s bike over to its mount near my toolbox and did my best to focus on the suspension. Which is to say, I was completely distracted with thoughts of watching the mist move in Finn’s eyes until Matt came back.
***
I skipped the day’s practice races, preferring to hang out with Wally and talk about the upcoming season. I spent some time rubbing elbows with the guys who rode the smaller bikes because they didn’t look down on me. Most of them were in their teens, so they had little to no knowledge of my past and thought it was cool Matt had a “girl wrench” or in regular people speak, a female mechanic.
Ride: A Driven World Novel Page 3