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“He endangered the crowd,” Rod suggests, staring me and Ricky down. “The FMNR clearly states patron endangerment is an automatic rider disqualification.”
Doug threatens me with fines for what I did with veins bulging from his neck, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Do you think this is funny? You could have seriously hurt someone,” he says, acting like I nearly killed someone. At best, they would have gotten their foot rolled over or a burn from my exhaust. Hardly life-threatening.
“I think it’s funny.”
“It’snot.”
“Relax, Dougy.” I pause, still smiling. “No one was hurt and look at that fuckin’ crowd.” I gesture to them still chanting my name and raise my arms. “They look pretty fuckin’ happy to me, don’t ya think?”
Check out Doug’s face. Do you think he likes being called Dougy? Nope. Not one bit. Fuck this motherfucker. He looks like his head’s going to explode. Reaching forward, he grabs me by the front of my helmet and yanks my face to his. “You and I both know what you’re trying to prove here!”
I keep my head, surprisingly, but I jerk my face out of his hands. “Yeah? What’s that?”
My score’s announced over the PA system. 87.9 cumulative score, but disqualified.
What a bunch of cunts.
Satisfied, Doug smiles. “If you want to destroy your career, be my guest. But do it someplace else.”
Is that what I’m doing? Destroying me career? Here I thought I was proving a point. Hmmm.
It’s a known fact, I’m not wanted here and I know that, and maybe that’s why I agreed to do the tour. I’m not sure what my mindset was when I signed the contract. I was high. I can tell you now, it holds another meaning. “Oh, fuck off.” I laugh. Reaching forward, Ricky shuts my bike off. Probably for the better. Throwing my leg over my bike, I stand in front of Doug, my three-inch height difference on him causing him to look up at me, something he’s never usually done in my presence. “You should be kissing my ass. If it wasn’t for stunts like that, freestyle is a fuckin’ puppet sport. Why are you yelling at me when this is really what you want? You expect this out of me. Don’t act surprised when I deliver.”
That doesn’t go over well and Doug and the official start to yell at me. I lose interest and Ricky takes over, constantly having to clean my messes up for me.
Shade and Camden approach, Shade’s all grins and high-fiving me. I won, but after being disqualified, he pulled of the win for the night. “Nice, bro.”
I nod, but say nothing. It’s Camden I’m watching. He looks. . . confused?
“What’s wrong, Cam-Man?”
“There’s a girl who asked for my number?” Camden says, looking to me for advice. “She looks like she’s sixteen.”
Removing my helmet, I pat his head, smiling. “Bag it up.”
His brows pull together. “What does that mean?”
“If you don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t be getting her number?”
“But she asked formine.”
Shade grabs him by the neck. “Don’t listen to him.” He pulls him away. “Show me this chick.”
They leave and I’m left with Scarlet. She hands me a bottle of water and I dump it over my face.
“What was that about?” Scarlet stares my face, searching for me inside my hollow eyes. She won’t findme. I’m long gone.
I don’t reply, at least not to her question.
That ho from earlier approaches, giving me a look that says,I’ll suck your dick in front of everyone.And though it’s tempting, I wave to Scarlet. “Get rid of her.”
I lock myself in the trailer, my body trembling as I crash against the cabinets. With my head in my hands, I allow myself a moment to calm down. I swallow over the lump in my throat, trying not to vomit. My nerves fray, the building anxiety overruling the rational thoughts, and it all comes back to one girl. The one I’ll never be enough for.
But for me there’s something deeper to why I hold onto her. It’s rooted inside me and I can’t shake it. It’s craving something more, something that might control the soulless fuck I am.
Do you see me sitting in the makeshift pits in the street of Santa Monica? I look. . . amused? Bewildered? What about fucking annoyed? Yep. That’s it. Annoyed.