Chapter 4
Chapter four
Racing
Angel Stadium | Anaheim, California
The first race of the season was beyond exciting.
Rico had raced Supercross before but never like this.
He was on a team. With a team bike, a team jersey, and team expectations.
In his previous racing career as a privateer, he only had himself to let down or pump up.
He had to come up with his own jersey, his own bike.
There had never been a team. Everything was different.
Apex Racing changed all of that. But it was still racing. That part would always be the same.
Practice went well. Tim had given him praise. He didn’t have the best practice times in the field, but Tim said they were good enough to get into the Main Event. That’s what counted. He hoped Tim was right. Rico would look stupid and probably get fired if he didn’t at least get in the Main.
California was hotter than New Mexico, and Rico basked in it.
He walked out of the Apex trailer with his jersey tossed over a shoulder.
The pit was crowded with the entire Apex team, including Bolster, their female 250 racer, Bryce, Pilot, two other bodyguards, coaches, and Tate.
He was a little surprised Tate was there, but he was getting used to that dynamic.
Wherever Bryce was, Tate wouldn’t be far behind, and Pilot would be right behind both of them.
He pulled his jersey on and made his way through the pit to his mechanic, Mickey Hun.
He had met Mickey a few times and seen him a week ago at the New Year’s party, but they hadn’t talked much.
Rico had assumed Tyler would be his mechanic, but Tyler was managing three bikes, so Mickey was in charge of Rico’s 450.
They had made the change at the last minute, probably so Rico wouldn’t have time to complain.
He had made them promise he would work with Tyler when he signed on, but Rico was actually okay with the change.
Having Tyler at the track would have meant having the big bartending bodyguard, Pilot, with them too.
Rico didn’t think they needed a bodyguard, especially not for qualifying. “Everything good?” he asked.
Mickey looked up and winked. “Right as rain, boss.”
Rico laughed. “Yeah, whatever. I’m not the boss, that’s Davey.”
Mickey snorted. “He’s not. Haven’t you figured it out yet? How long have you been at The Ranch, man?”
“What are you talking about?” Did he mean Angel or Stewart? They were leading the team, sure, but Davey—
“Tyler. My man Ty is the boss. Nothing happens without the bikes, and nothing happens with the bikes that isn’t Tyler’s decision.” He shook his head and smiled. He had a good sense of humor and a reputation for joking.
“Are you kidding me now?”
“Nope, serious as a heart attack or a wreck on the track.”
“That’s not even funny.”
“Nope,” Mickey said again. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll get it figured out.” He motioned Rico to come closer, and when he moved in, Mickey whispered in his ears. “Davey’s wrapped around Ty’s fingers.” Mickey held up his own fingers and wiggled them around.
“Yeah.” Rico thought back on the last few weeks spent with the couple. He’d seen signs but hadn’t paid much attention to it. Mickey was probably right, but it wasn’t Rico’s business. “Good to know. Now about the bike...”
They talked mechanics for a few minutes.
Rico was used to being the only one touching his bike, having a professional work on it seemed surreal.
Mickey reassured him that it was perfect.
He’d made the minor adjustments they’d talked about after Rico’s practice, and it was ready for Rico’s qualifying laps.
Mickey jumped behind him on the bike, then they headed for the track.
Rico was more familiar with the track, and more comfortable after having done a track walk, practice laps, and a slow sight-lap to look at it one more time before the qualifying race.
He lined up behind the gate with a few other racers. Some he knew of like Cole Lindt, and some he didn’t recognize. They didn’t matter. Only this race. Only finding his line and riding it.
The gate dropped, and he tore out, riding fast and hard on the throttle.
He leaped forward. He might have had the holeshot, but he didn’t stop to think about it.
The first jump, the rhythm section, around a turn, the whoops.
..on and on and back to the start. This was a race against the time, not the other bikes, but he treated it the same.
He wanted to beat the other guys on the track.
He passed the mechanics area where Mickey held up a sign with his time or something like that on it, but Rico didn’t read it.
He was too intent on keeping his mind on the dirt, picking his line, riding like he knew how.
The joy of it swelled in his heart. The speed, the air over a jump, the smell of dirt and oil. How could Dillon not miss this?
Once he got out in front with a nice lead, he stopped thinking about the time clock or the racers behind him. He rode in his own zone. When he cleared the finish jump for the last time, the crowd cheered, and he slowly realized he finished.
First.
He shook his head and shifted his gears, laying off the throttle and slowing the bike. He coasted to the front where the podium was set up. He pulled off his goggles and helmet then strung his goggles around his neck.
Mickey ran over to him and pounded him on the back. “Man! You killed it.”
Rico gave him his hand to clasp. “First?”
“Fuck, yeah! If you ride like that in the Main, you’re going to win for sure!”
Rico shrugged. “That was fun.”
Mickey looked at him like he was crazy, but he suspected the mechanic had at least an inkling of what it was like to ride like that. He probably rode for fun on the weekends, but Rico didn’t ask.
An interviewer stuck a mic in his face so he could thank Apex, Davey, and a bunch of sponsors. Then Mickey slung his leg over the back of the bike, and they headed back to the pit. Mickey would need to clean the bike up and make some minor adjustments before the Main Event.
When he got there, Mickey took the bike and lifted it onto the stand, using his hip like he’d done it a million times. He probably had.
Laughter grabbed Rico’s attention moments before a group of people came around the corner, entering the pit from the far side. He recognized Davey first. His business partner, Angel, was also with him, but then he saw someone surprising.
“Dillon.”
Dillon lifted his head and caught Rico’s gaze. Rico hadn’t realized he’d said his name out loud. His heart leaped into his throat, and he swallowed it back hard when Dillon smiled and lifted his hand in a little wave. “Hey, Rico.”
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Came to see you race. Said I would.” Dillon rolled closer.
He wasn’t in his normal chair. This one had big wheels that looked like they should be on a dirt bike rather than a wheelchair.
It made Rico want to see Dillon on a bike.
He imagined Dillon would be glorious. He made a mental note to search YouTube for some old videos of Dillon racing. The need to see it burned inside him.
“Well, uh, thanks.” He was glad Dillon was there, but he still couldn’t shake the memory of that chick in his lap at the New Year’s party.
Davey smacked Dillon on the shoulder. “You should feel privileged, Rico. This asshole never came to any of my races.”
“You lie. I went to about three.” Dillon flipped him off.
Davey huffed. “Doubtful.”
Angel grabbed Davey’s hat off his head and smacked him in the chest with it. “Stop it. Leave Dillon alone.”
“Yeah, Davey, leave me alone,” Dillon griped at him, but his smile and the light sparkle in his eyes said he was playing. Rico felt a surge of jealousy. He wanted Dillon teasing him, but he had to stop that. Dillon had made it clear they were only friends. “I’ve seen you race enough, anyway.”
“Speaking of watching races—my God, Rico—where the hell have you been hiding that?” Davey asked. “I’ve seen you race, and I’ve seen you tearing up my track, but none of it looked like that.” He shook his head and stole his hat back from Angel. He pulled it on his head with a grunt.
“I don’t know.” Rico shrugged. “I felt it. Here.” He tapped his chest over his heart. It was the only way to explain it.
“I know what you mean.” Dillon rolled in closer and turned his chair to the side so he could see the fans walking up and down the pit area.
“When you’re in the zone. Nothing else matters.
” He waved his hand, apparently to indicate everything else in the world.
“I’ve been there.” That wistful expression crossed his face for a second, then it disappeared even quicker.
No one said anything about it, but it was seared into Rico’s memory. He had to do something about it.
Rico finished fourth in the Main Event. He knew Dillon was watching. He wanted to win. For him.
It didn’t happen.
Back at the pit, everyone cheered and slapped him on the back, but he felt like a loser.
Tate took third, Regal took second, and Cole Lindt finished first. They were top competitors and would be hard to beat, but Rico could do it.
They all had jumped quads in the middle rhythm section.
Rico had only tripled, but that had made all the difference. He knew it before Tim even got to him.
“Great job, Rico.” He smiled like it was a victory.
“No, it wasn’t. If I had grown some balls and took the quad, I’d have finished better. At least better than Tate.”
Dillon rolled up beside him. “I don’t know about that.”
Great. The only one he wanted to impress, wasn’t. “How do you mean?” He hated how defensive he sounded.
“Relax!” Dillon held up his hands as if fending Rico off.
“I only meant that those three guys who finished in front of you have been the top in points for the past three years—even when Davey was racing. And Regal even longer.” He shook his head, and his shaggy hair slid around the sides of his face.
“This is your first 450 race, and you were right up there with them. Impressive. But those guys aren’t going to simply slow down for you. They’re not going to let you in.”
He was right, but Rico didn’t want to hear that. “They don’t need to let me do shit. I’m coming. Whether they like it or not.”
Dillon’s smile looked predatory. He grabbed his crotch and leaned forward. “I like it when you talk like that.” His words were almost a whisper, deep, and silky. Tim had already walked off, so no one else heard.
“What are you saying? Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“No.” Dillon snorted. “You are misinformed.”
“I saw her at the party.” Rico wanted to flirt with him and have fun, but another part of him wanted more than that.
It scared him, but Rico would meet any challenge head on.
He wouldn’t hesitate to go for it as long as there was a chance, but he wasn’t willing to be shot down right out of the gate.
A girlfriend or lying about it equaled a no-go situation.
“Yeah, I know, but she’s not my girlfriend. Never was. Only someone I know.”
Rico put his hands on his hips and gave his most stern look. “Sure seemed like more to me. Kissing and whatever. Sitting in your lap. All night.”
Dillon had the decency to look abashed. “I didn’t ask her for that. I didn’t instigate it.”
“You didn’t tell her no.”
“I didn’t, but I’d asked her to the party long before I met you.”
It sounded like an excuse to Rico, but then again, they hadn’t said they were dating.
They hadn’t decided to be exclusive. They were friends.
If he wanted more, he needed to get out of that zone quick.
By the way Dillon tilted his head to the side and stared at him with wanting eyes, Rico thought he was maybe interested in that too.
“Okay, whatever. Next time, I’ll do better.”
“With the girl or racing?” Dillon asked.
Tim walked back and handed Rico a bottle of water. “Rehydrate. Orders from Orlando.”
“Yes, boss.” He took the bottle and drank half of it down. When he looked up, Dillon was looking at him like he needed the rest of the bottle. “Want some?”
“Not water.”
Davey walked over with nothing but smiles. “Hey, guys! Party at The Ranch tomorrow. You killed it out there, Rico.”
Rico took the congratulations, but he still wasn’t convinced. “I need more work on quad jumps.”
“You’ll get there.” Davey patted his shoulder, oblivious to the smoking hot glances Rico was getting from Dillon. “Right, Tim?”
Tim smirked and side-eyed Dillon. “Oh, he will.”