Page 32 of Send It
Colson
Lincoln and I have kept a low profile for the past couple weeks, and I’ve done my best to dodge Reiss. However, today is unavoidable. It’s the day we test out the bikes for Nationals, but I haven’t rode in weeks.
I look down at my leg and sigh, here we go.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ryan asks when I walk into the shop. “Reiss said you are training alone at Silver Creek.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I grimace. “I like to suffer in silence. My riding hasn’t been the best.”
Reiss’ dad speaks up, “Dr. Marlow cleared you to ride?”
I nod, “Yep, I’m just struggling.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, “You can do this in your sleep, don’t worry about it.”
If only my dad thought that, I think to myself.
We walk over to the first bay of the garage and there are two dirtbikes with engine builds that you wouldn’t believe. Fast. Perfect. Winning bikes.
“Alright boys. Let's get these fired up and see what they’ve got.” Ryan instructs as Reiss and I lift them down off the stands.
We kickstart the bikes and head over to the starting gate where Ryan drops the metal gate and Reiss and I take off for the holeshot. The vibration in the bike and the roughness of the dirt on the track sends shooting pains up my shin into my knee.
Riding like this fucking hurts.
I take a deep breath and push through the pain, finishing the lap and pulling the bike over to where Ryan stands, jerking my helmet off. “That thing is fast as fuck. I wasn’t even wide open.”
“It’s not like you to ride so… I don’t know… safe.” He says.
I mash my lips together into a fine line, “I know, Ry. When push comes to shove I will perform. You know that.”
He nods, “I know. I just wish you would’ve told me that your leg was acting up. Maybe I could’ve changed your training schedule and helped you rehab it.”
He doesn’t know that either way the outcome would be the same. That my original surgery failed but I can’t tell him yet.
“I’m sorry but I promise you, I have a plan.”
He nods firmly and after Reiss finishes another lap, he stops next to me. “Who built these bikes? They are fast.”
Ryan laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully, “Did you forget we have connections? And that your dad is a supercross king?”
Reiss squinches his nose, hiding his smile, “That old man?”
His dad comes walking up behind him and smacks the back of his helmet, “Shut up.”
“Lets take the bikes to a race at East Bend this weekend and give them a good practice race.” Ryan says. “You two both need practice on these bikes before racing them at Nationals.”
The real question is, how to get Lincoln on that bike for practice without anyone knowing.
“Sounds good,” I say, braaping the engine and pulling the bike over to the shop door. When Reiss pulls around and yanks his helmet off, there is a giant grin on his face.
“This bike is fast as fuck,” he says. “I want to tear it apart just to see what they put in this thing.”
“I wanna know how much Bane Racing paid for them,” I add, knowing damn well it was a lot.
Reiss gives me a look that says come on . “You know that no expense was spared. Even your dad chipped in.”
My dad bought this bike?
He’s never really shown any interest in my racing career. He had a career ending injury and lost a kidney. Since that day, he hasn’t even set foot at the track. Which is why I joined Bane Racing in the first place. My support system has always been at Bane Racing, never at home.
The fact that he’s forking out cash for race bikes is weird. Maybe it’s hush money. Feeling guilty for all the time he was never around. I don’t know.
“You didn’t really ride out there like you normally do. You going to be okay?” he asks.
I sigh, “Yeah. I’m just gonna get out there and ride. I’ve been doing this so long I’m gonna have to trust that my body knows what to do.”
“You sound like you are about to go roll out your yoga mat.”
“Shut the fuck up. You literally take gymnastics.”
He shrugs, “That shit really helps my balance.”
“Yoga helps my mind.” I growl. I’ve only been a few times, but I did like it. It is a good way to get my mind off things.
“We need to focus on our strength training.”
I roll my eyes, “Speak for yourself. I’ve been at the gym every morning.”
He glares at me, “Well that’s a fucking lie, unless you are going somewhere else because I’ve been at the gym every morning.”
I groan, “What’s with the grilling? I’ve been using our home gym.”
“You’re just MIA, Colson. In fact the only person you’ve been hanging around with is Lincoln. What’s with that?”
Fuck.
“Nothing. She’s just been around a lot lately. It’s nothing and I’m not MIA. I’m literally here, dude. Maybe you’re the one MIA playing baby daddy with Mira Tate.”
I flip the script and change the subject because the last thing I need is Reiss poking around about Lincoln when Nationals are two weeks away.
I can’t risk him finding out before that gate drops, if so I lose my best friend and Bane Racing.