Chapter 1
Chapter one
Slade
Arlington, TX
My first press conference was educational.
A spot had been set up in the back of the fanfest area, where several racers had been invited to do a Q&A session between qualifying and the heat races.
After qualifying well enough to get into the heat, everyone wanted to ask me questions, making me feel like I’d done something special when all I did was ride.
Maybe not all, since I did better than expected, and the pros were a bit different, but I’d had the opportunity earlier in the year to ride in SMX NEXT on the Supercross tracks and honestly fell in love with it.
The tracks were incredible, and the fans were wonderfully supportive.
“Slade, Slade, how does it feel knowing you qualified on your first professional attempt?” That had been asked already at the podium so it must have been an important question, or at least the one with the most interest.
I leaned toward the mic. “Feels amazing. I couldn’t be happier with my performance.”
“Slade? Do you think you’ll get a transfer spot in your heat race, or will you go to the LCQ?”
That one had me chuckling a bit. No one wanted to go to the LCQ—Last Chance Qualifier. “I’m hoping for a transfer spot. I’m running well, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t.” And that’s when I caught his gaze.
Clay Preston.
One of the top competitors in my division, riding for BikeMax Toyota team. He had a tough reputation, but more importantly, he won races. He smiled at me and my heart fluttered.
Someone else asked a question but I missed it until the guy next to me bumped my shoulder. “Oh, Sorry. What was that?”
“I asked if you think your team can actually compete with the pros.” Wow, he sounded snarky. Sure, I was a privateer, which meant paying my way without much sponsorship, supported by my family. Dad was my head mechanic, and everyone knew all that.
“Feels like a loaded question. I’ll just say I’m here and ready to win.”
There was other chatter after that, and as the reporters asked other questions, my mind and my gaze drifted back to Clay.
There seemed to be something that zinged between us, so I wondered if he would be interested in me.
I was twenty years old now, the same age as most of these guys, even Clay, but Clay had been riding pro for the last few years, while I’d still been in the amateurs.
It made me feel like I was behind, at least in experience.
I couldn’t be mad about it though, without my family supporting me and pushing me further, I wouldn’t be here fielding stupid questions.
Mom got me in the Loretta Lynns under the Myers/Aztec Moto banner, and I won my division, which pushed me up to the SMX NEXT, the highest amateur division.
Aztec Moto was the track in New Mexico where I practiced, and they happily put up a little sponsorship money to see me represent them on a bigger stage.
I hoped it brought in more racers to the track.
Moto was such a family-oriented sport, and Myers was the hot family name right now.
Clay walked away from the area, leaving me a little disappointed.
I had hoped he’d wait until we were finished so I could meet him.
Not that he even knew or cared that I was alive.
His earlier smile probably wasn’t directed at me anyway, no matter how much I would have wanted that.
I could just forget all of that nonsense anyway.
It wouldn’t get me anywhere, and racing was more important than any cute guy.
The press conference finished up, so I headed back to my pit area to get ready for my heat race.
I jumped on the stationary bike that Dad has set up on the side of the truck, while he tinkered a bit with the bike.
My uncle was helping or rather pointing things out for my dad to do, and my brother was stretched out across the bench seat of the truck, sleeping.
He’d driven all night while I slept with my head against the window.
It was cool outside where the pit, really just a square piece of land with the truck, bike, and tools, was located, but we raced inside at AT&T Cowboy Stadium.
It was crazy that the Dallas Cowboys played football here and were on the field probably only a month ago, and now it was filled with dirt for us to race around in.
Soon enough it was time to line up. Excitement filled the air with hope.
Every single one of us at the gate wanted to get into the Main Event and race against the top riders in the division.
That meant two-time champion Chris Bowie, Sarah Bolster who rode for Apex, and of course, Clay Preston on that red, white, and blue #78 Toyota.
Of course, they weren’t all lining up in this heat.
Clay was here, but Chris and Sarah were not, they would race in the second heat.
Only the top nine from each would transfer directly to the Main Event.
The rest would go to that dreaded Last Chance Qualifier, or LCQ, and only the top four would move to the main from that round.
Those races were hot and fierce, but I was determined to have that pass. Honestly, I wanted to win.
We took a site lap, where we got one more look at the track and gauged the feel of the dirt before lining up.
Picking a gate depended on how you qualified, so I got third pick, which meant I would get a decent gate that I thought I could get a holeshot out of.
I wasn’t as experienced as some of these other guys, at least on this type of track, but I knew my strengths and weaknesses and how to use them.
The rut wasn’t terrible in front of my gate, and it was a pretty straight shot, all working in my favor.
The Monster Energy girl with the 30-second board walked in front of us. Go time.
Gates dropped.
As we turned the first corner, I didn’t have the holeshot, but I was right behind Clay who did.
I pushed the bike harder, challenging him and riding close to the back of his rear tire.
If he made the slightest mistake, I was passing him.
It didn’t matter how cute I thought he was when we were on the track. I wanted first.
The moment came, and I flew past Clay, but he wasn’t going to simply let me by.
After the next turn, we raced side by side over the whoops section.
The bumps spaced close together were the best obstacle, since you had to basically tap the tires over the top of them.
Some would be jumping through that section by the end of the night, but that was more difficult— if you asked me— besides blitzing the tops was faster.
Clay’s longer legs had to be pumping hard, because he squeaked by me.
We fought it out through the next lap, going back and forth, until another racer passed us both.
I wasn’t sure who it was, but I didn’t want to get caught up fooling around with Clay and slowing us both down.
I let the immediate fight go and concentrated on hitting my marks.
A few other racers caught up to us anyway, and after a lot of back and forth, Clay ended up in third with me right behind him. That had been exciting, and while I wasn’t first or second, I still finished strong and —even better— transferred straight to the Main Event.
Angling toward the exit, I saw Clay stopped ahead of me and looking back. As I got closer he waved me over. Maybe I’d been wrong about him, he could actually be interested in me—at least as friends.
I pulled up next to him and he leaned in close to my face.
“Look rookie, you better stay out of my way. You should just be happy getting a transfer spot and not fighting the pros like me for position.” He grabbed my helmet and gave it a shake.
“You could have wrecked us both.” He shoved me off then drove away.
That had not gone like I’d thought at all. Not fight him for position. Hell no.