Ridin' Dirty (Beautifully Dirty #2) (15 page)

The trucks got into the pits sometime yesterday and set up, so they are ready to go as soon as we get there. Fans can pay additional money to get a pit pass, allowing them into the pit party to see the riders they love up close, get pictures taken with them, and autographs, too. There is a ton of other entertainment there, as well. Usually there is a drift car, a BMX bike show, a couple monster trucks on display, and all the different booths for the sponsors of the teams. It truly is a whole lot of fun for the fans to hang out there, but the real entertainment comes once the racing begins.

I step off the elevator to see Ryan walking out with his team. Walking over to the chairs in the lobby, I see Jesse. We talk for a few minutes before we are ready to head out.

Arriving at the track, I head straight to the truck. I am informed we have a couple of our big sponsors visiting for this race. As I enter under the tent, I see a few familiar faces and others I don’t recognize. Jesse and I head inside the truck to start getting ready, as we only have about forty-five minutes to dress, have our meeting, and say hello to our visitors.

We both walk out pretty much at the same time, but he is fully dressed and I have my pants undone, carrying my jersey in one hand, and my helmet in the other. I don’t really pay attention to who is staring and who isn’t. Walking over, I start talking to my mechanic, as he’s giving the bike a once over again. He is known for double and triple checking things, and I’m completely okay with it, too.

As I turn, I see a TV announcer standing there doing an interview with our team manager, and as he finishes, she puts the microphone down and walks over to me.

“Can I get an interview, Cooper Brewis, or should I call you ‘The Bomber,’ like I hear your team shout out at you?”

“Haha, you can and I will be happy to do one with you, but I have a practice that I need to be going to at this very moment,” I say, pulling my jersey over my head, right in front of her.

“No, I mean after that or in between the heats and the main?”

“Sure, come by, either time works for me.” I pull my helmet over my head, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to get my ass to the track.

“I will.”

She walks away. I hear my bike start up, and turning toward it, I see my mechanic is smirking at me. I shrug my shoulders and throw my leg over my bike seat and he follows right behind me, jumping on the back. Then, we are off to the first practice of the day. I need to get a good lap time in, so I can get a decent gate pick.

After both practices, I am able to pull the third fastest out in the 250 lites. Ryan is again leading the whole class; he was a whole three seconds faster than me, and over five seconds ahead of most of the other guys. Every second in racing can mean the difference between being the one leading the pack or watching the first few riders go by.

I am sitting on the couch upstairs in the truck, with just my Calvin’s on. Taking a shower after the second practice seems to help me relax for a bit, before I’m back on the line, ready to go in the heat race. Laying my head back, closing my eyes and stretching my legs out in front of me, I hear the door leading to the stairs open and close. I figured it’s our team manager, my mechanic, or Jesse coming to discuss the first heat race. I drew out for the second one, so it gives me a little more time to regroup.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was told just to come up.”

It’s not the voice I expect, and as I open one eye, I see a set of legs that aren’t attached to any of the people I work with.

“Hey, it’s fine, there is no need for you to leave. I’ll throw on a pair of shorts if that makes you more comfortable.”

“No, I mean, I’m kinda used to it in this line of work. I would like to know if you want to do that interview now, but if you need to be alone before your race, I get it. I can come back later if you prefer.”

“If you are used to this,” I say pointing directly at my boxer briefs, “then I’ll stay right here in them.” I want to see what she will do.

“You can, as long as you are okay with coming outside in just those to do it. You’ll be on camera in front of the world to see. This is a TV interview.” She is giggling a little, when talking to me.

“I certainly don’t mind, sweetheart, but I’m thinking my manager will be pissed and you’ll never get the interview done, with the way you are staring,” I say back, as I pass by her closely, on my way to grab a pair of shorts. The hallway is pretty small, so unless you are turning sideways, there is no way that two people will fit. I hear her breath hitch, just a little. I love knowing I have that power over a lady.

I decide in the end, if I am going to be on TV doing this interview, then I need my gear on. Throwing on my socks, then my pants, we both go downstairs. I slip on my boots but keep my jersey off. We walk out and over to my bike, as she wants it in the background.

She asks me how I got into the sport and what drives me, then she wants to know where the nickname ‘The Bomber’ came from. I explain to her about how I started watching it on TV then riding and racing. When it comes to my nickname, I explain that my mechanic started calling me that the minute he started working with me. When we went to the first race and he saw me come off the line, he said I was like a bomb ready to explode coming out of the gate, hence the name ‘The Bomber.’

She continues on with the interview by asking what it’s like to be on one of the most successful teams in the business. She ends it with what the ladies want to know, is there anyone special in my life? I give her the answer I know she is looking for, telling her that I have a lot of special people in my life, but no there isn’t just a one.

After she walks away, I realize what I’ve done. I need to explain it to Ansley before she sees this interview. I don’t want to throw us out there, for the world to know and pick apart, until we are ready for that.

I know that I have about forty-five minutes before the race, so I jump on the stationary bike to start warming up. About five minutes after I do, Miss TV starts walking back under the tent, stopping right in front of the bike to thank me and wish me good luck.

The heat race goes well and I finish second, right behind one of Team Kawasaki’s bikes. That fucker is fast tonight; I don’t know who lit a fire under his ass, but I can’t catch him at all.

I am back at the truck and I can see Ryan’s truck, which is across from the Hyped Energy tent. Two of the Hyped girls are under the Honda tent, but I can’t see if Ansley is or isn’t one of them. I’m sitting back in one of the chairs with my feet up and my eyes glued on that damn tent. I hadn’t heard from her and she always texts me good luck. I couldn’t figure it out.

There is a family of four that walks into my view, next to our roped off areas. It takes my mind off of what might be going on over there. I get up, grab a Sharpie, and go over to them. The boys are probably around ten or twelve, and they are decked out with their
O’Neal Racing
jerseys.

“Hey guys, have you been enjoying the racing, so far?”

“We have, you are really good!”

You can see the excitement in their eyes. I love it. I never came to anything like this when I was younger, so I can only imagine how they are feeling right now.

“Thank you. So, who are you here to watch?”

“We love Ryan Evans, he is so fast.”

“Oh, yeah . . . he is, isn’t he? Well, I’ll tell you a little secret, Ryan and I started riding together when we were about your ages. So, keep it up and you could be here one day.”

They both say in unison, “OH, MY GOD, REALLY?”

I look up at their parents and we all start laughing. They look like good kids; I open up our roped off area, inviting them in and they are beyond excited. Before they leave, they ask me to sign their jerseys and one of my posters, then I hand them each one of my old jerseys, which I sign and as well as giving them some stickers. Watching them walk away with huge smiles on their faces is worth it.

“Let’s suit up, boy, we have a race to get to,” Jesse shouts over at me.

“Who you calling boy? You’re younger than me, shithead.”

“Age is just a number, I act more mature,” he says with a smirk on his face.

I laugh out loud because he is such a kid at heart. Any chance he gets, he is screwing around so, he knows he is full of shit.

We are both on the starting line, waiting for the thirty second board that is displayed in front of us to start moving off of the track, so we know there are only seconds before the gates all drop.

The first turn is crazy; several guys tangle up together, and though I make it out clean, I don’t get the holeshot. I can see Ryan and the damn Kawasaki guy in front of me. Ryan is gone; he has a clear track in front of him, which means that he will check out and there is no catching him. I make a stupid mistake over a jump and land hard, causing me to lose a couple spots. As riders go flying by me, I catch my footing and hold on with everything I have. I am in sixth as I go by the mechanics’ area, noticing my time on the pit board, two seconds and sixth. Which means, I was two seconds behind the guy in front of me and I am sitting in the sixth spot.

By the end of the night, I finish just off the podium in fourth. I’m not completely happy with the outcome; I know I can do better. Jesse however, stands on top of the box in third. Ryan of course, is standing in the number one spot, both on the podium and in points. If this is any indication of what the season is going to be like, he is going to sweep the races.

I walk out of the trailer, throwing on a t-shirt, and I start helping pick up some things under the tent. At this point the pits are almost dead, there is a few fans that wander through but only if they have all access passes. Once the mains start and after the races, the pits are shut down for the regular passes. The only way you are getting the all access ones, is if you know someone in the industry, like a rider, a mechanic, or a big sponsor, otherwise there is no way of getting them.

Leaning on my bike seat, talking to my mechanic, who squats down on the opposite side, I notice Ryan, Ansley, Kenna and Maddie walking over together.

“Hey there Jackass, nice race. What the hell happened to you tonight?”

“Yeah, I went over the first tabletop and came up short as I landed, fucking hit the handle bars with my chest, but was able to save it. I ended in fourth, not where I want to be.”

“That sucks, soon it’ll be your night and you’ll be standing next to me, of course in second but you’ll be still next to me,” Ryan says with a chuckle at me.

“Screw you, dickhead.” I laughed back at him.

“Did you get hurt, Coop?” Ansley is sweet as hell as she says it lower like she wants to ask, but doesn’t know if she should. She was actually being a bit shy, which I love.

“I think I’ll live, but if you want to kiss it and make it better, then by all means,” I say, lifting up my shirt to her.

“Oh, my God, Coop. Does it hurt?” She sees the bruising that is already starting and immediately puts her hand to my chest.

“A little, but it’ll be fine in a day or two, there’s no crying in racing. It’s either get up and get going, or get the fuck off the track.”

Her hand lingers for a minute before she realizes what she is doing, her fingers graze my skin as she slowly takes her hand away. Looking up at me, she smiles and then remembers that the others are still standing behind her.

They all say their goodbyes, as I finish helping everyone pick up under our tent. Heading back to the hotel, I need a hot shower and a bed soon.

Ansley

AFTER WE WENT HOME
the next day I watch the interview Cooper did with the blonde reporter. I see the way she is looking at him. I also notice him flirting back with her as he answers the last question. How could he have said that, no one special, really? A tear fell from my eye as I sit on my bed watching. What a jerk. I thought something was starting to happen with us, but clearly I was completely wrong.

As the week went by, I kept busy doing things around the house. Every time Cooper texted me, I would briefly text back, but I didn’t put any effort into texting him first.

It’s now Friday morning and Kenna, Maddie, and I are about to board a plane to Texas, for the next round in Supercross. We’ve been traveling all over California for a little over a month, so it’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Oh, did I mention it’s Valentine’s Day weekend? This should be fun.

As soon as we land, I go and get the rental car, then we head to the hotel to change. We have to make our way to the stadium right away, because we have a bikini photo shoot on the track scheduled today.

“We are going to rock these new suits, you know that.” Maddie is tiny without trying, so she never has to worry about working out.

“I’ll try to, I didn’t work out this week.”

“Oh, Ok, Ansley . . . like you have anything to worry about,” Kenna says, rolling her eyes at me.

“Hey, what’s up your ass? Lately you’ve been bitchy.” I need to ask, it’s been bothering me. I don’t think I’ve done anything, and she is always biting off my head over stupid things.

“Nothing, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”