Page 87 of Unbossly Manners

The air crackled with excitement, music played from a DJ booth near the start, an announcer gave instructions and motivational speeches to the crowd. Participants stood in groups, prepping their bikes and warming up.

Knots twisted in my gut. This was a bigger event than I’d anticipated.

Selena gripped my arm. “What the hell?”

“All we have to do is get on our bikes and cruise down country roads.”

She nodded but her face was wary, matching my anxiety.

“Bee!” Selena waved her arms.

Nellie and Bee were standing near a cold fire pit in the camping zone, smoking a blunt.

“I want whatever is in that thing,” Selena said, wiggling her finger at the Camel Pak.

Bee slid it off her shoulders and smiled in satisfaction. “It’s vodka and Red Bull.”

“Bless you.” Selena took a long swig from the straw. “Stay close. I’ll need another hit before we start.”

Bee raised the blunt, the skunky smell of marijuana drifting under my nose.

“What about a hit of this?”

“That will make me fall asleep,” Selena said.

As a group, we agreed we didn’t have to stay together on the ride; we’d stick with our partner. That way we wouldn’t feel obligated to go faster or slower or stop if we wanted to keep moving.

Across the field, I spotted Jackson and Kat. They were surrounded by his cycling mates, laughing and gearing up. A happy crew.

The warning horn sounded and everyone made their way to the start line. Nellie, Bee, Selena, and I stayed in the back of the large group. There were at least two hundred participants.

We were geared up on our rented bikes, and ready to go.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” I said. “Can we just forget this stupid idea of Jackson’s and go back to the cabin?”

“Best idea of the day,” Selena said.

“I can’t believe Jackson talked us into this,” I groaned.

“You. He talked you into this,” Selena said, taking one last pull from the Camel Pak. “I came as support.”

I shook my head and groaned again.

The serious cyclists—like Jackson—clipped their shoes into their bikes. If my feet were locked into the peddles it would be a disaster.

The start gun fired, and the mass of cyclists lurched forward.

I shared a glance with Selena then pushed the peddles. We had to stop several times, the large mass clogging through the arch. Once we made it to the open road, the group fanned out and we had plenty of room to ride at a leisurely pace.

At first, we road alongside Nellie and Bee, but Nellie had to pee about two miles in and pulled to the side, while Selena and I continued. By five miles, we found ourselves alone on the country lane, getting into the groove. The scenery was breathtaking; hills and valleys full of wildflowers, old barns, small streams gurgling alongside the road, birds chirping their morning songs.

“Any news on the work front?” Selena asked.

I tilted my head back and looked up at the blue sky through the sparse canopy of branches and leaves. My handlebars wiggled and I death gripped them to steady myself.

Eyes on the road, girl.

“Jackson and I think someone is sabotaging the company from the inside,” I said. “We’re writing down every disruptive thing that’s happened in the past few months to see if we can figure out who’s doing it and why. So far, the sabotage seems random,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat escalated, the breeze from riding no longer cooling me down.

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