Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз. Страница 72

It could have been totally random that my bike lost speed like crazy. Maybe I was more distracted than I thought on my run-through and let off too much on the gas. Maybe not.

I didn’t know which option was scarier; the fact that my bike was probably an irreparable flaming piece of shit, or the possibility that I’d made such an embarrassingly novice mistake.

This was a big race for a local. I had a lot leaning on it if I wanted to attract the attention of the early sponsors for the season, so I could get some better gear and pick up my game.

I had connections, which I could use if I didn’t wind up with any local sponsorships. Connections so good that, like Evan Lennox, I could probably set someone’s orchard on fire and get away with it. But, unlike Evan, I’d done my shit and learned my lesson a long time ago. If I wanted to prove myself, I had to do it as Jake Kelly, not riding off the coattails of the Macleans.

Just as thoughts of my family started to make me feel like I’d eaten a tray of bad oysters, one of the only Macleans I could tolerate strode over, his arm slung around Cadence. The last time he’d come to see me race, it had been a disaster. I’d just punched him in the face a few days before, and I worried the whole time I was on the bike that he was putting the moves on Bren.

“Hey.” I gave them a wave. Brenna turned in my arms and smiled her greeting.

“Hey, Kelly. Just came to watch you rip this shit up.” His eyes went over my shoulder where my bike sat a few dozen feet away, leaned against the tailgate of my truck. “Holy fucking shit. You goddamn stubborn asshole! What the fuck is that?”

Bren’s arms tightened around my waist.

“Jake fixed it.” Brenna slid her arms away from me and crossed them over her chest, her legs spread apart in this cute, defiant stance, eyes narrowed, mouth set, all ready to stare Saxon down and fight for my honor. Ever since the whole crazy essay debacle, Bren was making an effort to prove her support, and I knew it was killing her. I knew, deep down, my worrywart girlfriend agreed with Saxon on this one.

Her defense made my heart gallop in my chest. Bren believed in me.

“I guaran-fucking-tee he did notfix that thing enough to race it.” Saxon was trying hard to keep it cool, but I knew he wanted to scream his ass off at me.

“It will work fine.” For a split second, I was reassured by how confident my voice sounded. Until I remembered that I was lying through my damn teeth. I had no clue if it would work. Brenna’s trusting, relieved expression made me feel even shittier for my lie.

“Work fine? You put a fucking Band-Aid over a slit artery. Work my ass. This is asking for trouble. Race with a bike that actually works, or don’t fucking race, Jake. You shouldn’t be putting your ass on the line because of your fucking pride.” Saxon’s eyes were pure black and evil-looking, exactly like they got before a throw-down.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. I didn’t particularly feel like beating his ass into the ground. To tell the truth, I was feeling tired and just done with this whole day before it really got started, but it wasn’t in my nature to go down without a fight. Saxon’s eyes jumped to my fists.

“Save it. You think I’d punch you in the head before you get on that death-trap? You don’t need to lose anymore brain cells. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you break your neck, even if it would serve you fucking right.” Saxon stuck his hands in his pockets and we both glared for a minute. Then he said, “You need help?”

I looked at Bren and could see from her tight smile and big eyes that she was nervous. I tugged on her hand, and she made her smile even bigger, but she wasn’t fooling me. “You alright here?”

“Sure. Of course. Actually, I think I’ll get some food.” She kissed me, a quick, light kiss she used to try to trick me into thinking she wasn’t remotely worried, and then turned to Cadence. “Do you want to go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

Cadence glanced at Saxon and he nodded slightly. “That would be great,” she said and gave Brenna a quick, nervous smile.

The girls walked away, and Saxon and I stared at their very fine asses for a minute. “We are disgustingly lucky. How did two fuckups like us end up with girls like them?” Saxon asked.

I chuckled. “I heard a rumor we have these irresistible lady-magnet genes.”

He patted his pockets for his cigs, but didn’t take a pack out.

“No smokes?” I started towards my bike and he followed.

“It’s part of my good boy makeover. And, honestly, it’s the part I’m fucking shedding as soon as I get my car back permanently this fall. I’ll make sure I don’t smoke in the house, because it really does screw with Aunt Helene’s allergies, but I officially love nicotine and miss it like hell.” We got to my bike and he squatted down by it, letting out a low, long whistle. “This bike is hurting for retirement.” He ran a hand over the gouged, pitted plastic of the body. “I don’t remember it being this big a steaming pile of shit.”

“It wasn’t. I’ve been training like crazy, probably when I was overtired, and shouldn’t have been on the badass tracks I was riding. Plus I got rusty after those weeks with the crazies in New York. I crashed it a few times when I got back on, and just kinda hammered past the dents. I knew I probably did more damage than I figured.”

I straddled the front wheel and closed my fingers over the handlebars, loving the fact that this bike had seen me through some tough times. This bike had helped me impress Bren. This bike showed everyone I was something when most people bet I was nothing.

Saxon jumped back to his feet and shook his head at me. “You’re gonna lose. And that’s a fucking crying shame, because there isn’t one guy on this damn course who could touch you with a ten foot pole as a rider. You need to shake all this sentimental crap, Jake. Racing could be your ticket to something bigger, and you need to learn to use whoever, whatever to grab that chance. No one’s going to remember the guy who kept his pride but placed third.”

Hatred for him burned and stung in my throat. I blinked hard and my entire body tensed, because I knew he was right. On every count. I was going to lose. I could get hurt. I could take myself out of the running. And it was all for what? To prove to a bunch of jackoffs with more money than god that I was better than them somehow?

Saxon’s hands closed over my shoulder. “This is only a local. You can place high enough to attract the right attention. You don’t have to be first.”

“I’m not used to being anything else,” I muttered.

“Well, stop being a stupid fuckup and use your limited brain power.” The announcer crackled over the loudspeaker, and Saxon dropped his hand off my shoulder. “They’re about to start. You need anything?” I shook my head and swallowed hard past the shrapnel-like ball of blatant fucking fear in my throat. “Aunt Helene is here. I got her a seat already. I bet the girls are with her now.”

“Aunt Helene is here?” I squeezed my temples and regrets toppled over each other in my head, each one vying for first place. “Nice to have a big audience for my fuck-up debut.”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d have the balls to race that piece of shit.” Saxon grinned and put on these aviator sunglasses that should have looked douchey, but didn’t. He always managed to pull shit like that off. “You’ve got brass nads, man.” He gave me a salute. “I’ll be around if you need anything last minute.”

I’d never started a race with such a ball of lead in my gut. I felt like my entire equilibrium was thrown. The whole damn thing felt completely, nauseatingly off. I saw Bren, Aunt Helene, and Cadence, all down by the gate, jumping, waving, and cheering, and I waved, but the lead in my stomach got hotter and heavier fast.

The bike hummed nicely under me when I started the engine at the lineup. I’d checked and rechecked everything I could think, but I wasn’t some top notch mechanic, and fear about what I might have missed fogged my brain. The roar of the other engines helped drown out the worst of my doubts, and I forced myself to focus.