Chapter two
Nix
The bar wasn’t overly crowded, so finding Jason Gibbons wasn’t difficult.
We’d been friends for a few years, and I enjoyed Jason’s company.
I slid up to the long, polished bar beside him and raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention.
The mood in the place was typical. People chatted under low lights, or drank alone, watching one screen or another that were hanging all over the bar.
Several were tuned to baseball games, one or two on less popular sports. Soccer across the room.
“Nix! Hey, so good to see you.” Jason shook my hand.
I nodded to the tall glass, sitting in front of him with the umbrella sticking out of it. “Whatcha drinking?”
“The special.” He pointed to the board, where a list of drinks with fancy names were listed.
The bartender came over. “Want one?”
“No, you have a decent IPA on tap? That’s more my speed.” I settled for a more popular name brand. Not my favorite, but it would do. With my drink ordered, I turned to Jason to get down to business. “Not that I don’t like hanging out with you, but I know you actually wanted something. What’s up?”
Jason leaned back a bit in his chair. His brown hair looked a bit tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it.
He pursed his lips. He seemed excited but was trying to look relaxed.
Or maybe his drink had him heading that way.
“Straight to the point.” He shook his head.
“Yeah, I want something. So, you know what’s going on with Supercross right now? ”
“No, uh, honestly? I haven’t been following. I’ve been working on a few X-games things. It’s been keeping me busy.”
“If you can put that on hold, you’re going to want to.” He took a sip of his drink. Whatever they put in it was turning his lips an artificial shade of red. Probably wine.
I shifted a coaster back and forth between my hands on the bar. Jason wouldn’t drag me out here for nothing. “Okay, I’m interested. What’s happening?”
The bartender slid the beer in front of me. I lifted the frosty glass, then took a couple of long, cool swallows, then set it on the coaster.
Jason had to have something worth pursuing. He was a serious journalist, even if he primarily wrote about dirt bikes and moto. “One of the best, Cole Lindt, was injured.”
“So? They get hurt all the time, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but this is a story.” His eyes widened with contagious excitement as he spoke.
“Why?” I could guess a few things but waited for Jason to reel me in.
“First, he was a favorite to take the championship before the wreck. He was third in points, but only a few points separated the top three. Everyone. I mean everyone thought he’d pull ahead.
” He shook his head and slapped a hand on the bar.
He drained his glass and lifted it, asking for another. “This is good.”
I wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the drink or the story. I lifted an eyebrow, silently asking him to continue.
“Right. So, we…” Jason gestured between us, then tapped his chest. “We need to do a documentary. Right? Follow Cole’s recovery and comeback.”
“And if he decides he’s not going to return? Then we’ve followed this guy around with a camera for months, maybe longer, and have nothing to show for it.”
Jason turned to face me, and I noticed he didn’t have his camera.
He always had that thing. He was no photographer or videographer like I was, but he liked to have his old Nikon to shoot ideas and thoughts.
Unlike my equipment, it was only good for casual shooting.
Maybe he thought it made him look more like a reporter.
I pointed to his neck where it normally hung.
Jason scoffed. “It’s not attached. It’s locked in my room.
Stop giving me shit. I’m serious here. Cole will be back on the track.
I know these guys. Guys like him, Supercross stars.
They get to the top because they don’t let anything prevent them from winning.
No way will Cole Lindt let this stop him. He wants the championship. He’s due.”
I tossed the idea around in my head. I knew that name. “Who is this guy? Didn’t he have some scandal or something a while back?”
“Yep. That one. Not the guy who was banned from Supercross and arrested, but the other one on his team. They were attacking other racers on and off the track.”
“Ahh…I remember. They were attacking the gay kid.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “McAllister.”
“Yep. That’s the one.”
“Why would I want to give him any publicity?” As a gay man, I certainly didn’t want to help promote an asshole like that. I wasn’t big headed, but my films made good money, and if I filmed someone, they got noticed.
Jason clapped my arm and leaned in. “It’s a total comeback story. All the way around. I happen to know that he came to some kind of agreement with McAllister. And I suspect he’s gay.” He righted himself on the stool and looked around, motioning for the bartender. “Where’s my drink?”
“Maybe you’ve had enough. Especially if you think that Cole Lindt dude is gay.”
“Nope. I know he is. Feel it in my bones.” He shook his hands out in front of him.
“Well, I’m not dragging him out of the closet. This is a bad idea.”
I stood to leave, but Jason grabbed my arm. I had a hotel room with a big comfy bed calling me, but Jason had been a good friend for a long time. I gave him one more shot at it.
He let go of my arm, holding up his hands to gesture wildly.
“Okay. There are a few ifs here. If he doesn’t want to come out, we don’t have to use that angle, but maybe if he has a chance to tell his story, he will.
But even if he doesn’t, this is solid. We can use more than Cole.
We can make it about overcoming the injuries in the sport.
Plenty of injured racers that return and some that don’t.
What does it take for them to get back on the bike?
It’s a great opportunity. If we can make Cole the center, I think it’ll be better. Either way, we have a story.”
I blew out a long breath that made the hair falling in my eyes flutter. Jason was probably right. About all of it. He had great instincts and connections in the industry. It could be a lucrative deal. “You have a network or something sold on it?”
“Not yet, but with you on board.” He spread his arms out. “Piece of cake. Come film this with me.”
I was a sucker for a good story. “Okay. For you, I’m in. Send me the details.” I tossed some cash on the bar, enough to pay for both our drinks.
The bartender slid a glass in front of Jason, complete with umbrella and fruit stuck on the rim. He took a drink and squirmed around. “So good.”
“Enjoy that.”
“I will.” He was cute when he was tipsy. Too bad we’d been friends too long to be anything else.
“You’re not driving, right?”
“Hotel. Right here.” He pointed up.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Jason laughed as I walked away.