Page 28 of Send It
Colson
“Lincoln is throwing a pool party at the house for the fourth of July. Are you coming?” Reiss says as he crams his mouth with a handful of peanut M&Ms.
Lincoln throwing a party? I must’ve heard him incorrectly. “What?”
“Yeah, Lincoln is throwing a party here.”
“Lincoln Bane, as in your sister Lincoln?” I push.
He shrugs, “Yeah and she was so chipper about it, too. She’s been acting so fucking weird lately. I think it’s because she’s getting laid.”
I almost choke on my saliva, “What… what makes you think that?”
“It’s Lincoln dude, has she ever been known to throw a party?”
He has a point. It’s not very Lincoln-like .
“She’s coming out of her shell,” I say. “I don’t know if I like it.”
Reiss groans, “I know. She’s acting like an actual girl and I don’t know how to deal with that.”
“She has boobs, you know. She’s always been a girl.”
He scoffs, “The fuck you lookin at my sisters tits for?”
“I’m just saying she’s always been a girl.”
“I know that,” he drawls. “I just mean watching Lincoln go from race gear to a dress is weird as hell.”
“Baby Bane is growing up,” I laugh. “No chance of her ever hanging up that racing helmet, though.”
Reiss agrees, “You’re right about that. She can put on a mini skirt all day long to get Jackson’s attention but that doesn’t mean he won’t be mad when she beats him in an arm wrestling match.”
I nod, “That would be a sucker punch to any man’s ego. Seems like you are still sour about her beating you.”
Reiss scoffs, “She did not beat me. A gnat flew into my eye, Colson. You saw my eye watering. Anyways, are you coming or not?”
“She hasn’t invited me yet.”
Reiss raises a brow, “Since when does she need to invite you? You basically live here.”
I shrug, “I don’t know. Maybe she’s sick of having Reiss’ friends around. Maybe we should do something else.”
Because I don’t know if I can keep my hands off of her in front of you.
He’s appalled, “No way! Stassie said she’s getting a band and everything, going all out.”
“What about your mom and dad?”
“Gone to see friends in Arizona. We have the whole place to ourselves.”
“Then I guess I’m in. When did you talk to Stassie?” I ask, knowing damn well Stas isn’t in town.
“We text a little bit sometimes,” he shrugs. “It’s not that deep.”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, I think to myself.
Reiss groans, “Stop lookin’ at me like that. It will never be me and Stassie.”
“Because of Mira?” I ask. “Or because of you?”
“It’s more complicated than you know,” he admits. “So just please let it go.”
I nod, and do as he asks. Letting it go. If he wants to talk he will, besides I know what it's like to want to keep things private.
Case in point: Lincoln. And chances are if I start prying, so will he.
I whip my phone out and type a message to Lincoln.
Colson
A party huh?
Lincoln
Word travels fast.
Colson
Your brother invited me.
Lincoln
Did he? How convenient?
Colson
Celebrating America’s independence, I don’t think I should miss it.
Lincoln
I mean, yeah stop by if you want. It’s whatever.
Colson
At least I’ll get to see you.
Lincoln
That’s kind of the point, dipshit.
Colson
I’m flattered.
Lincoln
I want to see you when we aren’t training. If I have to throw a stupid party for it to seem like it’s in the wild, then so be it.
Colson
Love you too, baby Bane.
“What are you smiling at?” Reiss asks when he sees me looking down at my phone, tossing an XBOX controller in my direction. “You and Bri hanging out again?”
“Nah,” I say. “That’s been over for a while. Whatever that was.”
He clicks around on the game until he starts a match and we are both in the same lobby, “Well whoever you’re texting is about to get fucked. I can tell by the way you are staring at the screen.”
The words make guilt swirl around in my gut and I can’t go along with him.
“No, it’s different.”
My confession causes Reiss to jerk his eyes from the screen, “Like different as in relationship?”
I shake my head, “Just different.”
“Landon was right,” his grin spreads. “You are going soft.”
I dismiss his comment, “I’m just realizing what I want. That’s all.”
“The championship?”
I think about his question, trying to decide how to respond. Do I even care about the championship anymore? Have I ever really cared?
“I’m not sure.”
Reiss side-eyes me with suspicion. “What the fuck you mean, it’s all you’ve ever talked about?”
“Because it’s what everyone has always expected me to do. I was pushed into racing before I could walk. My dad expects it, Ryan expects it. Everyone at Bane Racing expects it. The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t really care about any of it.”
He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that. No one has ever worked as hard as you. Is it because of your leg, are you scared to race?”
I flip him off and give him a look that says “go to hell.”
The risk of injury and the fear of never living a normal life does linger in the back of mind pretty constantly, but I won’t tell him that.
“I’m just saying, bro. Ever since we went to that practice race and Lincoln made you see Dr. Marlow, you’ve been acting off.”
“He just told me to rest it,” I lie, knowing damn well we have scheduled my surgery for the week after Nationals. “Sometimes it just feels like too much pressure. My dad doesn’t come around and then shows up here on a whim and basically begs me not to embarrass him.”
“I know how hard it is to live in our dads’ shadows. I get compared to mine at every corner. In every interview I’ve ever done, in every podcast. So trust me I get it.”
“I don’t want to disappoint him.”
Reiss slams the controller down when his character in the game gets killed, “You won’t.”
“What if I do?” I say. “What if this is as good as it gets for me and I don’t end up being this super talented supercross prodigy like everyone thinks?”
Reiss offers me a look that says yeah right .
“I’m serious,” I continue. “What if this is the end of the road, and I never go pro and have to rethink my entire career plan?”
“Then you will be fine,” Reiss says. “You got us. Bane Racing isn’t just about winning, it’s about family. We take care of each other.”
I nod, really thinking about what he said. Would there still be a place for me at Bane Racing if I’m not on the back of a dirtbike?
“Stop being such a negative Nancy and help me win this next match,” he says, picking up the controller. “This is the last one, we have training in the morning. And you promised me a gym session.”
I release my breath. I can handle a gym session. I don’t know how I’m going to fake my actual riding for the next few weeks, though. That should be interesting to say the least.