Ridin' Dirty (Beautifully Dirty #2) (21 page)

We are taken to the stadium on the black golf cart the company owns and driven right to the field. At this point, I’m directed to where I need to be and what they want me to do. I have seen both Kenna, as well as others do it, but I never have. The bikes are all there, as I am given the AMA Supercross sign to carry above my head. Lifting it up, I start my walk. The bikes are being kick started as I get to the third racer. I see where both guys are before they see me. Cooper looks up, right before I am in front of him. We make eye contact, I smile at him, and mouth, “Good luck,” and he looks down. Continuing my pursuit to the other side, I keep looking forward. Just as I get to Ryan, I glance in his direction as he looks up. He smiles first at me, and again I mouth, “Good luck.” Ryan nods his head, acknowledging he read my lips.

I am glad that is over with. Now it’s just time to watch my guys race tonight.

Cooper

GETTING TO VEGAS,
knowing it’s the last race already, is kinda bittersweet. I know that outdoor season is going to be starting up within a month of this ending, but it’s still surprising how fast it all went.

Once we arrive, I go right inside the truck to prepare myself; we have an autograph signing after practices today around one, so until then, I’ll stay hidden. There have been people in and out of the truck all morning and I’ve never even seen half of them before; they are probably sponsors. I start to get my gear on for practice when there is a knock on the door to where I am dressing.

“Yeah?”

“Bomber, you have people waiting to see you in the meeting area,” my mechanic says.

“Who the fuck is it?” I think maybe it’s the guys from college. Cole, Adam, and Trey keep telling me they are going to try and make it out to a race. I know they are crazy busy with their own careers that have recently been taking off. Cole and Trey were asked to compete in the
X-games
this year and Adam well, he’s stacking up his trophies in the BMX world.

“Shut the hell up and just come out, asswipe.”

“You’re lucky I like you, and that I need you for my bike, or I’d be out and kicking your ass, right now,” I yell through the door to him, laughing.

“Ok, tough guy, just come out when you’re ready.”

I open the door, with my jersey off and pants undone. Fuck it, I want to see who’s here; if they don’t like the way I’m dressed they can leave, I say to myself, walking up three steps to the next floor, to where my guests are waiting. I’m not prepared to see who’s waiting.

“What are you two doing here?” I stop dead in my tracks, completely stunned, and I’m sure my facial expression says it all.

“Well, I thought we were invited, Son.” My father steps up and holds his hand out to me.

I just look down. I’m seriously not prepared to see my parents sitting in my truck. It takes me a minute to gain my composure but when I finally do, I take my father’s hand and shake it. My mother comes over and gives me a hug, whispering that she loves me. What the hell is going on with my parents? Speechless is an understatement.

“No, you were invited, in fact you’ve been invited several times. But you haven’t been to one of my races, so forgive me but I’m surprised to see you now.”

“Well, you know my work doesn’t let me just leave and go play whenever I want.”

“Dad, you own the company. You can come and go as you please.”

“I may own it, but I have a lot to do when I’m there.”

“Ok you two, we didn’t come so you guys could argue. I’m looking forward to seeing you ride.”

“You are?” I just can’t help but to think there is a hidden agenda somewhere with this visit.

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t mean it.” My father is direct; a no bullshit type of guy, so when he looks me in the eye and says it, he means it. I scowl a bit, still in shock.

My mechanic yells in to me, “Yo, Bomber . . . five minutes.”

I throw my jersey over my head and grab my boots as I start to walk away, then I realize they are still standing there. They have no idea what I am doing, where I’m going, or why that guy just yelled that to me. Oh, let’s face it . . . they don’t have a fucking clue what is happening at all.

Turning back to them, “I have a qualifying practice I need to get to. If you follow me, one of the guys will take you to the track to watch.”

As we walk out of the back of the truck, my manager sits there on the mule, smiling at me. He knows this is a historic moment for me. I flip him the bird, smiling back and he starts laughing. Both my mother and father look at the mule like, “what the hell is that?” I explain to them quickly, that it’s just like a big four-wheel drive golf cart. They get on it with my manager and follow me up to the starting line. They continue on to the sponsor’s area, so they can watch it from there. It is on a raised platform, so it will be easier for them to get a decent view of the track.

I take off and go around, making good time, but I’m not sure exactly what my time is compared to everyone else’s. I have a reason to race tonight, like a real reason, not just to beat the guy next to me, but also to show my parents, I am good at what I do. I have to admit; deep down I have a pit in my stomach that I’ll disappoint them. Coming off the track, I don’t wait for them, my mechanic jumps on and we are off to the truck. Once he gets off, he slaps me on the back, letting me know I kicked ass out there. Right now, I am sitting with the fastest lap time.

“This is what you do every weekend?” my mom asks, with concern in her voice.

“It is.” I am waiting for the lecture.

“Wow, you were really fast. It showed your name at the top of that tower, why?”

“That shows everyone who has the fastest lap time during practice. Then during the heat races and the main, it’ll tell us who are in the top five spots on the track.”

“It’s all impressive. So, you’re the fastest?”

“In practice, yes I am, but it could all change come race time.”

My dad stands looking around, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. Business is always on his mind; he can’t help it. He was raised a businessman and it’ll never change. I ask him if he enjoyed it, and all he says is he didn’t know I could ride like that.

The mangers set out our posters and chairs for us to do our autograph session with the fans. There is quite the line waiting for us. I can see it on my mom’s face as she takes it all in; she is amazed and I love it. During it, she comes up to me and asks me for one as well. I kinda chuckle at her, as I sign it and hand it off. I sit there for about a half hour and then it’s time to eat and relax before the heats start.

My parents and I sit together. I explain what is going to happen now and what I need to do to secure my place in the main race tonight. My dad says he likes how you have to prove yourself to be able to race. I still haven’t gotten a good job or anything from him, but the night is still young, maybe after I kick some ass in the heat or main. I tell him Ryan’s parents are under his tent, if they want to go say hello to them or see Ryan. I explain to them what Ansley is doing here, in case they see her and wonder.

“Really, she models?” my mom sounds shocked.

“Mom, why are you surprised? Ansley’s beautiful.”

“She is, but I just didn’t see her doing that.”

“What did you see her doing, exactly? You know she went to college and has a degree in marketing.”

“She does?” Dad jumps in on the conversation when he hears that.

“Yeah, and she is only doing this to get her foot in the door at the energy drink company.” I don’t know why I am defending her, if they only knew the three of us aren’t even talking right now.

“Well, if she gets me a resume, I could probably give her something. What energy drink company does she work for exactly?”

“Umm, it’s Hyped Energy Drink and really, you’d give her a job?” I just stare at him for a minute. What the hell is going on with him?

“Well, I’m familiar, with that company already so I’m sure I could look at her file with them. I’d need to see what she’s qualified for, but if I can use her, I will. ”

“I’ll let her know.” Though I’m not sure when I will ever be talking to her again, so if I do, I’ll tell her then.

The heats are starting up and I am up in the second one. Ryan is in the first with Jesse. I ask them if they want to go out a little earlier to see them ride. I let my mechanic know to bring my bike out, and we jump in the mule, taking off toward the track.

Ryan wins it, of course, and then Jesse follows him over the finish line.

I line up at the gate, ready to give it all I have and that’s exactly what I do. I go out, win it; beating my time by two seconds and Ryan’s by one. I want the win tonight, not only to prove to my parents I am good, but also to prove to myself that I can do it. Heading back to the truck, I see my parents there, my mom has a smile and my dad actually looks pleased. I hand off my bike, grab a drink and go over to them.

“Well, what do you think?”

“My God, I was so nervous for you. It was crazy watching you all come together in that first turn and why do you have to jump so high over the dirt piles?”

I have to laugh at my mom . . . dirt piles. “Mom, those dirt piles are all called different names, like, tabletop, whoops, triple jump, and a double, as well as other things. You have to fly over them to make up time if you are behind.”

“But you weren’t behind, couldn’t you just ride over them?”

“Umm no, Mom, I can’t do that,” I say, trying not to laugh at her. She is sounding like a mom for one of the few times I can remember.

“Dear, it’s his job to beat everyone.” My dad directs his response to my mom, but I am floored by his choice of words . . .”his job.” Did he really just say that?

“Thanks, Dad.” It’s all I can come up with to say; he just left me speechless.

“What the hell, Bomber . . . what or who lit a fire under your ass?” Clearly my mechanic forgot my parents are standing with me.

“Nice mouth,” I say, pointing to my mom.

“Oops, I’m sorry, but whatever it is, keep it up,” he says, tipping his head in my mom’s direction.

“And it’s no one; I like the track, it just flows.”

“Well, let’s kick some . . . butt out there tonight, and give them something to talk about,” he says, bumping knuckles with me.

“You got it.”

I’m in an incredible mood, not even Ryan or Ansley can ruin tonight. My fucking parents are at my race, and I’m on point tonight. Nothing can go wrong, and as long as I get a good start, this is MY race to win. I tell my parents that I need a minute to talk to my manager then I’ll be out to get ready to go down for opening ceremonies. Since I’m second in points, they added me a few weeks ago to the video lineup that they do at the start of the mains.

I sit on my bike, waiting for them to call my name out. Then I wheel out from the starting gate; the whole distance to the first corner, I lean forward, bringing the rear wheel off the ground as I balance my bike on just one tire. The crowd goes wild and I love it.

Coming back to the starting line while they continue announcing the riders, my parents are waiting, as well as my mechanic. He needs to top off my gas and then retighten everything. I stand, talking to Mom and Dad while he does that.

“It’s time for me to go line up.”

My mom comes forward, as well as my father. She gives me a huge hug and he shakes my hand. It’s all I need to know they care, they actually care and they are here to see me ride.

The starting line is stacked and I am eagerly waiting for the gate to drop. The board counts down to ten seconds then I look down and start to count backward. My hand is locked down on the throttle going into the first corner. I make it out clear, taking the holeshot and leading the pack.

Ten laps go by and Ryan is on my ass the whole time. If I don’t cover my lines then I’ll be the one following behind his Honda. He has always been a clean rider, so if he goes in for a pass, I’ll have a fighting chance to block him.

When we get down to the last lap, we only have a tabletop and a straightaway to go before one of us flies over the finish line jump and takes the Vegas win. We both are going full out, not out of control but not holding back, either. We reach the tabletop at the same time, throwing our bikes sideways in midair, causing our back tires to meet together. As we hit the ground, neither one of us has control. I fly off my bike, that’s all I remember, and I have no idea where Ryan is . . .