Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Johnny
Race Day – Angel Stadium | Anaheim, California
The pits were filthy. Johnny imagined all that dirt coating his arms and face.
He hated walking through the crowds to get to the Apex area.
Events were set up along the way where people hung out and waited in line to ride bikes or try to win some contest or other.
There was even a booth where you could wear virtual reality glasses while riding a motorcycle that had been set up like a mechanical bull.
They’d even roped off an area where kids could ride bikes, skateboards, and scooters over a miniature race track.
And loud music—everywhere. And dirt. Like a big chaotic festival of people, noise, and dirt.
Lines of fans stretched along the front of several of the bigger pit areas, waiting to get autographs.
He recognized the orange-and-black banner of the KTM factory team.
That was the team Tyler used to work for before finding Davey.
They made a super-cute couple. They’d always been polite to Johnny, and he repaid that by bringing the competition to their doorstep.
Why the hell did they still like him? Maybe they didn’t. He certainly didn’t fit in with them.
Johnny saw the KTM racer, Cole Lindt, sitting on a tall stool, signing pictures for fans.
He looked up and smiled with a nod. Did he recognize Johnny from hanging out with the Apex team?
He didn’t know, but it had him feeling a little paranoid.
He raised his hand in a brief wave and kept moving around the corner to the Apex pit on the next row.
The thought that people might recognize him made him antsy and ready to hide.
The giant red-and-blue Apex Racing signs advertising their team jumped out at him immediately.
Their area had solid temporary flooring that some of the other pits didn’t have.
They also had three giant, shiny red toolboxes set up next to each bike.
Johnny couldn’t argue that their setup looked more professional than most of the other teams. Lindt’s team looked pretty good, but even his team used simple plastic flooring rather than the expensive stuff Apex supplied.
He’d seen some teams that parked their bike stands right on the dirty ground and only set up small strips of plastic or rubber or something under them.
Apex classed it up for sure, but it didn’t make Johnny that much more comfortable hanging around.
Tyler and Mickey talked to each other in the back of the pit area.
Every few seconds, Tyler would wave his hands or point to one of the bikes.
Johnny didn’t see Davey anywhere. Pilot stood with his arms crossed over his beefy chest at the front corner where he could see everything going on, both in and around the pit.
Johnny didn’t want to bother him or the mechanics, but there was no one else there.
He pushed through a small crowd of fans and stopped next to Pilot. “Hey, man.”
“S’up, J-man?”
“Do you always have to call me that?” Pilot reached out to rub his hands through Johnny’s hair, but he ducked and moved to the side. “Stop it.”
“Sorry. Can’t help messing with you, bro.” Pilot smiled, his eyes warm with the brotherly love that sickened Johnny.
“Whatever.” He’d never tell Pilot the truth about his feelings anyway.
It was pointless. He leaned back against the huge semi-truck parked behind them that lined the pit area, acting as a back wall.
There was nowhere else to sit or get comfortable, but Johnny figured the team wasn’t there to get comfortable. “Where’s everyone?”
“Eh...” Pilot shrugged, lifting his hands. “They’ll be here later.”
Before Johnny got a chance to question Pilot on that, a few people he recognized came around the corner.
Angel, Stewart, and their female racer, Sarah Bolster, all decked out in her racing gear, and their security from Trident, Broady, following.
Sarah chatted with an animated smile, and Angel did a lot of nodding.
They beckoned the mechanics over, and they converged around her bike. Business as usual.
Everyone had something to do. Everyone except Johnny. He exhaled loudly. “I’m going to go to the stands.” He didn’t have to be the center of attention, but he didn’t like being invisible either.
“You know you can hang here. Davey and Rico will be here soon to sign autographs and shit before the first heats get underway.” Pilot put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. It sat there, weighted entirely too heavy.
He could agree to stay. It would be easy, and it seemed safe to be there beside Pilot, but simultaneously it was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
“I’m in the way. I’ll catch you later.” He stalked off to the stands where Apex had reserved a seat near the front for him.
It was too close to the track, the dirt, and the bikes, but he couldn’t refuse since Apex had gifted it to him.
He would have rather been up in the luxury booth they had reserved overlooking the entire field.
That would have been a dream for Johnny.
Better than front-row seats even. He scrubbed at his arms and wished for a packet of those disinfecting napkins to clean up with.
Even though he knew there wasn’t anything on him, he still felt dirty. He hated walking through the pit area.
He didn’t search out the BikeMax Toyota booth on his way to the track.
Gavin would be there. He hadn’t seen him since the flight home from their trip.
It’d been a crazy time. Fun, sexy. It was some kind of dreamworld, though.
Johnny couldn’t live up to that kind of thing, what they had there, and Gavin would end up disappointed.
Why the hell had he even agreed to meet, for shit-sakes?
Gavin had wanted Johnny to stay with him at his hotel room, but he’d already paid for enough things in their relationship—if it could be called a relationship.
Maybe it was better not to see Gavin again.
By the time he made it to his seat with an overpriced beer and a soft pretzel to snack on, the second 250 heat race was going on.
He watched, excited for Gavin and his new racer, Clay Preston.
He could at least celebrate that little success.
Gavin had told him about how hard he’d worked to get Clay up to the 250 West league from an amateur division.
The kid was young, and his parents weren’t sure this was the best time for him to move.
He had to convince all of them, but the contracts were signed, and Clay currently raced in fourth position in the heat.
It would be good enough to transfer to the Main Event if he could hold the spot.
Damn! Johnny was learning way more than he’d ever wanted to know about Supercross racing.
He tugged at the neck of his shirt where it started feeling too tight, too constricting.
Johnny watched Clay secure his spot and Bryce take second in the preliminary race.
Later, the Main Event for the 250s would be a big showdown with both East and West riding together in the Main Event.
That meant Clay and Bryce would be racing with Sarah Bolster from the East. She’d raced in the first heat for that division, earning a transfer spot with a fifth-place finish, but Johnny hadn’t seen that race.
Bryce and Clay running together made it hard for Johnny to know who to root for, so he cheered for both of them.
Then the bigger bikes took the track. Tate would be racing in the first heat. Johnny admitted that knowing a few of the racers made it more interesting. It allowed him to be distracted from his swirling emotions and conflicting thoughts.
He finished his pretzel and moved to the edge of his seat. He couldn’t see the whole field, but he had a great view of the finish line jump, and he could watch on the big screens hanging over the stadium.
Tate took the holeshot. Johnny cheered. They went around and around the track.
Johnny tried to keep his eyes on Tate. Cole Lindt challenged him twice.
He was the asshole who’d given Davey and Tyler a hard time, but he’d backed off since his teammate had been arrested.
He didn’t want that kind of trouble, apparently.
Johnny knew a lot more about it than he should since Pilot and Trident worked security for Apex, and Gavin had been the sponsor for the asshole who’d been arrested.
He’d done some serious PR work to get BikeMax’s name away from the mess.
Johnny was surprised Gavin had sponsored the homophobe at all, but Gavin had said business was business.
The crowd moaned together as Cole took the lead away from Tate. Obviously, the crowd favored Tate. They cheered when Tate pulled alongside Cole. They jumped together over the finish line jump, and Johnny couldn’t help his heart surging. He called out Tate’s name and lifted his nearly empty beer.
Tate pulled ahead in the next turn, then took off, leaving Cole to eat his roosted dirt. Johnny cheered along with the crowd and finished off his beer. He waited until the end of the race, to make sure Tate finished first before going back to the concession stand for another beer. And a hot dog.
He watched the second heat race, but he didn’t know any of the racers. Halfway through, he pulled out his phone. He’d been hoping for a text from Gavin. He wanted Gavin to check in with him despite having to work. Nothing.
Nothing from Pilot, either.
Johnny nursed his beer, not wanting to even be there.
His connections to all this hoopla were loose at best. He didn’t have a purpose other than sitting in the stands, cheering.
He didn’t even rate sitting in the luxury booth with Stewart.
He didn’t care. But watching the races alone, even when you knew the guys, bored him to pieces.