Page 31 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Heh,” Venom chuckles. “About time they do something besides antagonize us.”

“Guys.” I point to the bikes. “Dibs on blue. Keys are right there.” I tilt my head toward the road. “Just sayin’.”

“You planning to smash through the gate?” Woolly nods to the closed wrought iron barring our exit.

“Honestly, right about now, I might.” I gesture toward the house. “You realize it’s going to take another hour to get everyone down here, get the camera crews ready, wait for them to line up their shots. This is torture.”

“Quit whining and go run some laps or something,” Venom says, nodding at the path circling the house.

“No way.” I throw my leg over the bike I’ve claimed. “You just want to steal my ride.”

“Green’s more my style.” Venom rests his hand on another Ninja.

“I thought you were a Harley guy?” Woolly squints at me.

“Anything with wheels. And I’m not kidding, I’m dying to get out of here for even a few minutes.”

Our conversation’s interrupted by two of the camera guys coming out of the house to film “candid” shots of us studying the bikes. Hard to “act natural” with a camera up my ass.

As I predicted, it’s another hour and a half before we’re on the road.

Straddling the sleek Ninja is a whole new world. Instead of the familiar rumble of my Harley, the Ninja has a pleasant throaty growl that only suggests the power waiting under my fingertips. The bike’s nimble, different from the weighty foundation of my usual ride.

I kick mine into gear first, eager to dart forward. But we have to wait for a pickup truck to take the lead so one of the camera guys can film us while he hangs over the tailgate. Annoyed, I flip the visor on my helmet down.

Relief, excitement, and a surge of adrenaline spiral through me as we clear the gate. The Ninja effortlessly responds to my touch. I’m eager to open it up, zip around the truck and speed the fuck out of here. Maybe home.

Venom rolls up on my right. I’ve ridden in formation plenty of times. With guys I know and trust. Being boxed in—the truck with an idiot and a camera hanging out the back—in front of me, Venom on my side, two more bikes behind us, and the vans all keep me from pushing the bike too hard.

Even riding while boxed feels good. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed being out on the open road. Training and winning have been my sole focus.

Are we headed toward some twisty roads? I’d love to hit some wicked curves. Bet the Ninja would handle them effortlessly.

The truck speeds ahead, putting distance between us. With two fingers, Venom signals for me to take the lead.

Wind rushes past me, whipping my T-shirt against my sides. I open up the throttle, catching up to the truck in seconds.

This is such a tease.

After a few miles, the truck signals to turn left and slows. I hit the brakes harder than I meant to. The tires grip hard and screech against the pavement but I keep it under control, gliding through the turn.

A small, white building with sliding windows in front and a long counter running underneath stands in the center of the parking lot.

I roll the bike to a stop next to the truck and shut off the engine. I wait for the camera guy to focus on someone else before taking off my helmet.

Venom’s sneakers crunch over the gravel and he stops next to me. “Did they take us to get ice cream like we’re a bunch of five-year-olds?”

“Looks like it.” I glance at the building. “Maybe if we ask nicely, Jordan will buy us a cheeseburger too.”

He snickers into his hand.

“The fuck is this?” Woolly walks up to us and gestures toward the ice cream shop. “Our first outing in weeks and we’re gettin’ ice cream cones?”

I turn my head and scan the parking lot. Except for the crew and other fighters, it’s empty. Inside the shop, the lights are on, and I can make out two figures. “Maybe they decided we need part-time jobs?” I joke.

“I hope this isn’t some bullshit test to see if we can pull ice cream and mix milkshakes.” Venom scowls. “I already worked that summer job when I was sixteen.”

I glance at the van where Naptime’s scratching his armpits like a monkey. “If it is a test, not everyone’s gonna pass,” I say.

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