Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Johnny
Race day - AT&T Stadium | Arlington, Texas
Pilot, Tate, and Bryce traveled to Texas for the races.
Johnny didn’t want to go, but that left him home alone, frustrated, and anxious.
He couldn’t even call Gavin, because he would be working.
He was alone. Bored. Worried. He kept expecting his asshat father to burst through the door and attack him at any moment.
He’d spent the first few nights after the accident with his father at Pilot’s house.
Pilot wanted him to report it, but Johnny only wanted it to go away.
He got up off the couch, determined to do anything but sit there and feel sorry for himself.
A milkshake would help, and he had Reese’s ice cream in his freezer.
His phone buzzed as he dug into the container of yummy ice cream and plopped it into his blender.
He added milk and the lid. He’d check his phone after he dumped his tasty concoction into a glass.
When he finally sat back in the living room with his treat in one hand and his phone in the other, he tapped his screen to see who’d texted him. Pilot: Please go check on Bryce. He’s not racing this week, so he got left behind. PLZ
He hadn’t expected that. Bryce raced in the West division, and the East was racing this week, but he thought Bryce had gone with them anyway.
They expected to have another shootout with both divisions the following week in Missouri, though.
Bryce probably had to work out and train all weekend, and Pilot would worry about him being there alone.
He was probably worried about Johnny too.
Having Johnny check on Bryce was a clever way to check on Johnny at the same time. Tricky man!
Will do! Johnny texted back. He liked Bryce and liked being checked on.
Ironically, Gavin had stopped calling and texting.
That was probably Johnny’s fault, but he liked it better knowing Gavin was thinking about him.
He’d been acting like such a brat. He owed Gavin a response.
Instead, he finished his milkshake, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then drove over to Pilot’s house.
Bryce opened the door, wearing track pants and no shirt with his sweat dripping down his chest. Yep, he'd been working out. “Hey, Johnny. Good to see ya. Want to join me? I’ve been knocking out some time on the rowing machine.”
“I’m planning on hitting the gym later. I came by to see how you’re doing.”
“Ah!” He nodded. “Pilot called you, huh. Come on in. Want a water or something?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Johnny followed him in. He wasn’t going to stay long. A quick check was all Pilot needed. “You know, following Pilot’s orders.”
“Okay, but you’re here now, so why work out later?
We’ve got equipment here. Even a treadmill, you know.
Come on, let’s work out. Then we can get some lunch.
I’ve got some sweats you can wear or shorts.
” Tate probably had something that would fit him.
They were similar in size, if not muscle structure.
He followed Bryce into the back bedroom. Bryce rummaged through one of the dresser drawers. “Why didn’t you go to Texas with the guys?” he asked and threw a pair of shorts at Johnny.
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“Man! If I didn’t have my coach on my ass about training, I’d have gone. I can’t get enough of the races.”
“Isn’t Davey your coach?”
“Yeah, but don’t let that whole friendship thing fool you. He’s a demanding beast but also the best. So I’ll take it.” He flipped a shirt at Johnny. “Get changed.”
Johnny toed off his sneakers and yanked off his jeans. While he dressed, Bryce stepped out of the room. Once he’d changed, he slid back into his sneakers and joined Bryce in the spare room where they kept their workout equipment.
“Treadmill is all set up unless you want to lift?” Bryce pointed at the free weights in the corner.
“I’m good.” He got up on the treadmill and walked at a moderate pace to warm up.
Bryce sat on the weight bench and lifted a dumbbell, up and down, working on his biceps. “I get the impression you don’t much like Supercross, Johnny.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe we could go ride after lunch—”
“Oh, no. Thanks, but I’m not getting on a bike. No way, especially not on a dirt track.” Johnny scrunched up his nose in distaste.
“Is that why you don’t like it? The dirt?”
“That’s part of it. Also, the gear, it's too much. Getting in and out of all that just to ride around a while?”
“Pilot's done it. He seems to think it's fun.”
“I still don't get the allure. Nope. The dirt is bad enough. I'd rather watch it on tv than even be at the track. I always leave feeling dirty.”
“Even in the stands? You’re nowhere near the dirt.” Bryce switched the weight to his other arm.
“I know. Not rational. Can’t help it. But I will admit after having gone to a few of the races, it's not as dirty for the spectators as I thought it'd be. Still...”
Bryce shook his head. “I love the dirt. Tate’s the same. It’s like there’s nothing better than getting all roosted up, and you get dirt in your hair, on your face, in your mouth, but there’s something about it. Tate says it gets in your blood.”
“No. Uh-uh. No way.” Johnny shuddered.
“What else?”
“What I don’t like?”
“Yeah.”
“It's loud. Especially the bigger 450 bikes. How do they hear themselves think?”
Bryce laughed. “There’s nothing better than that sound. Braaap! I love it. I’m hoping to get a 450 bike next year.”
“That leads me to my next point. It's obsessive. You’re obsessed.
Since you and Tate have been in his life, I've seen up close how obsessive you all are about it.
Pilot's almost as bad, but not quite. I don't think you and Tate can have a full conversation without Supercross involved in it somewhere.”
Bryce laughed his comment off. “It’s probably true. You must be getting used to it since you’re dating Gavin now, right?”
Johnny shrugged. “Maybe. Gavin used to race, but he wrecked and had a very bad injury early in his career and went for his degree instead with intentions of getting into the business side of Supercross. So he’s very into it like the rest of you.”
“I imagine. He may not be riding and racing, but the whole thing is obsessive.”
Johnny tapped the treadmill controls, increasing his speed. “Yeah, it is. If I stay with Gavin, I’ll have to get used to it.”
“If? I thought you guys were good together. Like together-together.”
“Nothing in my life makes sense anymore,” he huffed out. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“Yeah, that sucks. I say follow your heart. It’s never steered me wrong.”
“Ha! Yeah, but you’re, like what, twelve?”
“Ha-ha, asshole. I may be young, but I’ve had a full life already.
I’m doing something most people only dream about.
” He put the weights on the floor and turned his back on Johnny.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Bryce’s feelings, but he probably took enough grief from other people on his age. He didn’t need it from Johnny too.
“Most people don’t dream about Supercross, dude. Hate to break it to you.” His breath became harder to catch with his exertion. “Obsession...”
“Again...ha-ha, Johnny. That’s not what I mean, even. I mean, I have a full career, and I’m successful. Do you not realize how successful I am?”
“Are you bragging, tiger-boy?”
“Don’t call me that.”
Johnny got off the treadmill. He’d pushed too hard. “Come on—”
“Seriously, Tate and I both are at a level of success that’s like, I don’t even know what to compare it to. Maybe like an NFL quarterback like Tom-fucking-Brady.”
Bryce grabbed a towel and flipped it behind his neck. “You know about other sports besides motocross?” When Bryce turned to glare at him, Johnny winked to let him know he was teasing.
“I love your sarcasm. I’m sure that’s what kept you friends with Pilot all these years.”
“Seems like your familiar with the concept.” They both laughed, releasing the built-up tension.
Bryce racked his weights and got on the rowing machine, but Johnny didn’t feel like getting back on the treadmill. “Hey! Seriously, though? You’re like Tom Brady successful? Even I know who he is.”
“Sort of. I mean, you’re a numbers guy, right?
There’re over two hundred thousand members in AMA, and there are only, what, twenty-one spots or so in the Main Event.
Think about it. Even if you take in both the 250 leagues and the 450s, that’s only sixty-something racers that hit the pinnacle every week.
Out of more than two hundred thousand. And that’s only the ones registered.
Not the folks at the small tracks who only wish they could register. ”
“Yeah, but that two hundred thousand is at all levels, not the top. It includes all those mini-me riders, too. Doesn’t it?”
Bryce snorted. “You have been hanging out with Gavin.”
“Maybe. I know he’s working on building a pipeline for BikeMax. He scouts for talent at those other levels. Isn’t that what happened to you? Someone saw you racing amateur and wanted to give you a shot?”
“Pretty much. A few pro teams were interested. Factory teams sponsor camps all the time and put coaches and stuff in at the lower levels. My parents shelled out a lot until I did the Loretta Lynn thing, though. That’s when I first got serious recognition and some sponsorship.
Sometimes it’s more than winning races.”
“Yeah, that’s what Gavin’s been doing.”
“Your eyes twinkle when you talk about him. How are you not sure, dude?”
Johnny didn’t have an answer for that. Gavin showed him exactly where his heart was when they were together, but when he wasn’t around, doubts crept in.
Mostly, he worried about how they could make it work when Johnny lived in Colorado, and when he wasn’t traveling, Gavin lived in California.
“Let’s get milkshakes.” He’d had enough of the heavy conversation.
Bryce stopped rowing and laughed. “You’re killing me. I can’t do that, but I can do a protein smoothie.”
Johnny made a face, sticking out his tongue. “That doesn’t sound nearly as much fun.”