Chapter 3
Chapter three
Partying
Rico spent the next few days training hard. He exchanged some texts with Dillon, but nothing serious. He wasn’t sure how to get more from the man without spending actual time together, but the big New Year’s Eve party was later that night, and Dillon would be there.
“Get your head on the track, Rico!” Tim yelled at him. Probably for the twentieth time that day.
He rode up to Tim and killed the bike. “Sorry. Distracted.”
“The party?”
He pulled his helmet off. “Yeah. I’m nervous about it.” It would be his first time seeing Dillon since the kiss.
“Why? It’s pretty much friends and family, right?”
“Yes, but...”
Tim gave him that look—the one he associated with being a dad because it looked so much like his old man’s look. The one he got every time he screwed something up. Then he grabbed Rico’s goggles. “You’re not using the tear-offs enough.”
“Huh?”
“We literally have an unlimited supply. You get something on your goggles? Tear it off.”
“Right.”
“But what?”
“No, I’ll do it. I have to get used to not trying to skimp and save every penny.”
Tim shook his head. “I meant about the party. You said but.”
Rico shrugged. He didn’t know if he wanted to tell Tim everything. They were paying the man to coach him on the track, not discuss his love life. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if it’s keeping you from racing your best out there. We practice being perfect. Not fucking off. That only teaches you how to fuck off at the track. Now, what’s up with you?”
Explained like that, he had no choice but to spill it. “Someone is going to be there at the party, and I like them.”
“Like them? Like-like them? As in romantic interest?”
Rico didn’t want to say yes, because then he’d get a lecture on how Supercross racers didn’t have time for that. Obviously, they shouldn’t. And was Dillon a romantic interest, or was Rico trying to get laid?
“I see the answer all over your face, Rico.”
“I like the guy way too much.”
“Dillon?”
Rico couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “How’d—”
Tim held his hands up. “He’s the only one left.”
“Right.” Maybe that was the answer. He liked Dillon because there was no one else around who was interested.
“One more time around. This time think about the track, not about Dillon, and we’ll break early.”
“You got it, boss.”
He pulled his helmet and goggles back on and started the bike. The roar of the engine poured into his ears and got his blood boiling. Racing. That’s what he did. That was his life. This was what he wanted. He couldn’t screw it up because of his dick. Stop thinking with the little head, man!
The next lap around was sweet. One hundred percent, all the right lines, all the right jumps. He liked it so much, he took a second lap, then a third. Then Tim was motioning him over.
When he killed the bike, Tim gave him a thumbs up. “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s how you do it. You were on rails, mother-fucker. Look at this time!” He held up his tablet, but Rico couldn’t see shit.
He pulled off his helmet. “What?”
“The last two laps were both the fastest I’ve seen, and you obliterated the sand. Know what that means?”
“No?”
“Time to change the track. Go get cleaned up and enjoy yourself tonight, but no alcohol, and I’m sure Orlando has already told you to lay off the junk food.”
“Yeah, but Davey is making sure there’s plenty of veggies and shit I can eat. I’m not the only racer.”
“Right, Bryce is going to be there.” He pointed his tablet at Rico. “He’s probably going to be training with you the next few days too. You better not let that super-punk beat you.”
“Super punk?”
“The purple hair...”
“Whatever.”
Rico showered and dressed in a casual sweater and jeans.
Then he changed to a race jersey. Then he changed to a button-down shirt, then back to the casual sweater.
He put on sneakers, took them off, put them back on, took them off, and stuffed his feet into a pair of loafers, then took them off and put the sneakers back on.
Pathetic.
He thought about changing again, but Tyler was calling him to help get ready for their guests. He was kept busy after that until several guests started arriving.
Davey’s other cousin, Jessie, showed up with two young guys in tow.
They seemed like best friends. Rico had only met Jessie once and thought he was a little goofy.
He hadn’t inherited the racing gene, so Rico didn’t have much to say to him.
His friends were all about meeting Bryce.
Rico rolled his eyes. Whatever. He grabbed a drink and lingered in the back of the living room, avoiding them.
Other members of Apex’s crew started showing up.
Drivers, security team, mechanics. Rico knew them, or new of them, though some he hadn’t formally met yet.
Tim and Orlando were supposed to show up.
Rico felt more comfortable with them, but they hadn’t arrived yet.
But they weren’t who he was waiting for.
Eventually, Tim showed up. He had a huge hulking boyfriend with him, but Rico didn’t give up his spot against the wall to greet him. He waited there quietly, ignored in the accumulating group of people. Then the front door opened again, and Dillon rolled in.
With some chick behind him, holding his hand over his shoulder.
She was cute enough but plain. She had short dark hair and a pixie face. She was nothing fancy in a simple blouse and jeans. Rico wanted her dead.
He glared at her hard. Why did she get to hold his hand and laugh with him like that?
Rico felt too hot, and he couldn’t breathe.
He stepped outside to the patio, hoping for relief.
He inhaled the cooler evening air. It did nothing for his aching heart.
He’d been so stupid to think they could actually have something.
Hell, Dillon probably thought the only thing Rico wanted was to get in his pants.
Maybe he had, but not anymore. Obviously–wasn’t it obvious?
“Hey, man.” Orlando stepped out on the patio. “It’s nice out here.” They had the pool areas all decked out with twinkling party lights. If it weren’t for the fucking cold weather, it would be the best spot for the party, but it wasn’t the weather making Rico feel less than festive.
“It’s okay.” Rico crossed his arms over his chest for warmth.
“Yeah? What are you doing out here anyway? Come back inside.”
“In a minute.”
They stared at each other. Orlando was added to Rico’s long list of people failing to figure him out.
“Seriously, Rico. You were excited earlier. Why are you out here by yourself?”
Rico shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about Dillon, and that crash and burn wasn’t everything. “I, uh, don’t really fit in.”
Orlando gasped. “What? You fit in with these people better than anyone.”
“Tate and Bryce are, well, they’ve always been on teams. I haven’t.”
“So?”
“It’s different.”
“They’re not snobs.” Rico looked back into the house through the sliding glass door. “They’re different too.”
“I don’t think I would have been asked to join if I wasn’t gay.”
The slider opened as Rico was speaking and Tyler stepped out. “That’s not true. We didn’t even know you were gay until we met in Vegas, and Davey was already planning on asking you to join.”
“Then why am I here?” Rico raised his hands, begging for something, anything to clue him in.
“Because you’re different. You have skills, an obvious winner, but you also had the confidence it takes to do whatever you set your mind to.
That translates in the dirt, Rico.” He tilted his head to the side.
“I haven’t seen this side of you before.
I get it though. We all have our insecure moments.
But ultimately, you fit with this team because you don’t quite fit anywhere else. That’s what Apex is about.”
Rico pursed his lips and nodded curtly. He’d liked that about the team when Davey had first reached out to him. That hadn’t changed. “Maybe I’m just letting this party stuff get to me.” He flicked his hand toward the door.
“Well, knock it off and come inside.” Tyler smiled at him. “Both of you. It’s fucking cold out here.”
“All right, let’s go.” Rico followed Tyler back in the house. Orlando patted his back as they crossed the threshold. It felt like a reassurance Rico hadn’t even known he needed.
The music was pumping, and people were dancing. Tate and Bryce were grinding against each other with some very sexy moves.
And Dillon had that girl in his lap.
He spun his wheelchair around in a circle, making her laugh. Rico sent another death-glare her way then headed to the kitchen.
The big Apex bodyguard, Pilot, who was also the third boyfriend with Tate and Bryce, was mixing drinks.
He was a big, muscled man with his hair shaved military style.
He could have been a pro-wrestler or a movie star with his golden skin and dark eyes.
Or a bodyguard, which he was, but mixing drinks like a bartender was an incongruent image.
“What’re you doin’, man?” Rico asked him.
“Hey, Rico. I’m having a blast. What’s your poison?” Pilot smiled up at him, every bit the gentle giant.
“Uh, water. I’m in training.”
“So are my guys, but they’re drinking cranberry spritz. A little sweet, but not too much. And it’s a ton more festive than water.”
“I’ll try that.”
“Good.” Pilot set about making two tall glasses, adding ice and cranberry.
“Why are you tending bar instead of dancing with your men?”
Pilot poured club soda over the cranberry and handed Rico a glass. “Cheers.” He held the other up, and they clinked glasses, both taking a sip. Rico had to admit it was pretty good. “Ahh...I’m having fun. I like watching them, but I don’t dance. What’s your excuse?”
“Dancing is not my thing.”
“You’re welcome to help with the bar.” Pilot waved his hand over the many bottles of alcohol.
“Nah...also not my thing.”
“What’s your thing then? I mean, besides racing.”
Chasing guys he couldn’t have. Rico shrugged. “Racing.” And definitely not New Year’s Eve parties.
Angel, the head of the Apex team outside of Davey, stepped up. “Rico, how’s it going? I heard your training is off the charts. You ready for the season?”
“As ready as I can be with the short time I’ve had to actually get ready.”
“Eh...I think you were ready before the training. You know what you’re doing. That’s one of the reasons we wanted you.”
“That’s, uh, good to know. I think. Thank you.”
“Thank me by kicking ass on the track. Now get some food. Plenty of good choices there, and the chicken Davey grilled earlier is amazing.” She smiled and winked, then headed for the buffet tables.
Rico watched her for a moment. She was really loading up her plate. Something seemed different about her.
“Pilot?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think?”
“Don’t start rumors, man. Wait for the announcement—if there is one.”
Rico nodded. That was good advice. He didn’t want to make waves, and if he started saying he thought Angel was pregnant when she wasn’t, he’d be in deep shit.
He looked over her carefully. Did her belly seem a little poochy?
Rico had an older sister, Maria. She’d been pregnant twice while he was still living at home.
His cousin, Tanya, had also been pregnant a few times, though she hadn’t been around as much as Maria, he had still learned the signs.
Dillon’s laughter drew his attention away from Angel and her potential condition.
It wasn’t any of his business anyway. But was Dillon his business?
Could he get through this party without even speaking to him?
Or his girlfriend? Rico didn’t like how angry he was over this. They’d agreed to be friends.
Rico hung to the outside of the crowd, mostly keeping to himself. Mostly watching Dillon and that girl. They seemed to stay in the center of the room. Every now and then, she’d go get him a drink. Then crawl back in his lap.
Finally, the torture was coming to an end.
The countdown to midnight was coming. They watched it on the giant flat screen.
Davey had bought the huge, eighty-five-inch beast right before the party.
The New Year’s Eve coverage had been on most of the night with that old MTV host doing the honors.
When they had played music, people danced.
When the coverage switched to talking, the crowd ignored it, mostly, until the final moments of the countdown.
Rico had been waiting for it. When it finished, he could go hide out in his room and replay the horrible night in his head over and over while he wished bad things on that girl.
Everyone counted the last three seconds. Then there was kissing. Not everywhere, but it was definitely in the one place he didn’t want to see it. The girl bounced in Dillon’s lap and kissed him hard. He put an arm around her back, and what was left of Rico’s heart crumbled.
He couldn’t look away from the torture. The noise around him seemed to silence to a low, background din. Then Dillon’s eyes opened and caught Rico’s gaze. He slowly grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back, never breaking eye contact with Rico. He mouthed Rico’s name.
Too late.
Rico couldn’t take another second. Maybe he was being overdramatic. It didn’t matter. Fuck Dillon and his girlfriend. He dashed straight to his room as if following a line on the track.
Fuck Dillon McAllister.