Page 4 of Down & Dirty

I shrugged. “Talk to his father.”

She strode past me toward the kitchen. “Not if I can help it,” she muttered only loud enough for my brother and me to hear.

“So,” Ronnie started, getting all of our attention—even Micah stopped jabbering and looked his way. “We’ve got a development.”

My pulse ticked up and I saw my father’s jaw tighten. Ronnie hadn’t mentioned anything to me after the race, which was unsurprising given his preference for drama and his love of a captive audience. But I didn’t like getting caught off guard like this. We were supposed to be a team. My brother was an adult, a twenty-four-year-old man, and a brilliant rider. But when it came to everything else about the business of racing, he was a hot head with eyes bigger than his stomach.

“They announced a combined season for next year. An overall points winner for both Supercross and Motocross.”

“One long season?” my mom asked, the concern in her voice poorly masked by the forced smile on her face.

“Yep. And the manager for OTM stopped me on my way out. He wants me to join their team. Make a run for it.”

With a sigh, I sagged back into my chair. OTM, or Olbrich Thorun Muhler, were three pioneers of motocross in Europe back in the eighties, who many still regarded as the grandfathers of our sport. Now their company produced some of the fastest bikes in the business. Of all teams to show an interest in my brother, they would have been his top choice.

I’d heard rumors that this combo season might be coming. It was an idea as ambitious as it was logical. The two sports were inextricably entwined, it was about time they met somewhere in the middle.

But keeping up good standings in both the indoor Supercross circuit and the outdoor Motocross tour was going to put every rider through hell. The two types of tracks took different skills, and riders tended to be better suited to one versus the other. Ronnie had always focused on the longer motocross course.

January through September was going to be a long season. And I’d come to like having the spring to ease back into the madness of training. Taking Micah to the park, catching up on reading, hell, even cooking the two of us dinner in the tiny apartment I sublet each year from a family friend across town from my folks in northern California. Without as much time off, I’d lose out on all of those normal routine things everyone else took for granted in their stationary lives.

“So, no off season?” I asked, knowing that going for the whole thing was going to be Ronnie’s choice no matter what. By the look on his face he’d already made it.

No need to talk to me. Per usual.

“The purse is worth the extra time,” he said, as if it was obvious. “And,” he glanced between us all, a glint in his eye. “They’re pulling together a killer team this year to kick it off.”

I took a sip of my water, curious. Getting Ronnie on a competitiveteam would help him land endorsements. And a good deal would mean more money for both of us. “Who?”

“He said they’re still vetting guys, but right now the lead contenders are Tate Lawson, Kip Waters, and Cory Ellis. If they each signed on, we’ll have the numbers and experience.”

When I’d started racing as a kid, I’d known the name of every motocross racer that had hit the top twenty. It had been my sport before Ronnie’s. But he’d shown more promise, and there were still too few shots for women. It was getting better, though. I wondered sometimes what would have happened if I’d kept going. Would I be as well-known as the names my brother had just listed off?

“Waters is going to want number one for himself,” my father said, turning between Ronnie and the artwork Micah was shoving into his hand. “And Ellis?”

Cory Ellis had already been a household name when Ronnie started. Over a decade ago. No one lasts that long in motocross, so why was he still fighting kids half his age? It made me wonder what OTM would want with a guy like him, all showy and arrogant and old. From everything I’d seen, he’d never struck me as much of a team player.

“He was on the podium last week,” Ronnie said, his brow scrunched tight, as if we’d insulted him. “And he’d be bringing his wrench, Billy Morlow.”

The duo was still together? It was hard to believe they’d been able to stay a team this long. What kind of pull did Ellis have with OTM management that they were already catering to him? As appealing as this idea was to Ronnie, getting him on a team that already had a favorite would be a waste of time.

“It’s the best chance I have of getting into the top three,” Ronnie said, his eyes on the beer in his hand.

“Then we’ll all support you, honey,” my mother said from the tiny kitchenette. She glared at my father first, and then me. Between Ronnie and her, it didn’t feel much like a discussion.

I gave my brother a nod. “I guess we’ll give it a shot.”

“But not with paint!” Micah roared, bouncing to his feet and waving his paintbrush in the air, watercolor spraying out around him as my father tried to catch him in his arms, laughter peeling out of them both.

“They’ll let us know who they pick after next week’s final race,” Ronnie said, accepting the plate of take-out my mother handed him. “And then training would start in Murietta two weeks after that.”

In my head I ran down the list of tasks this put onto my plate. Moving. Getting Micah settled. Making new arrangements with Tommy. OTM was a much bigger organization than any we’d worked with before, and it would be on me to sort out the new players and what they’d want from Ronnie beyond just race days.

“We’ll be ready,” I said, knowing that was as likely as me getting my ex to stop giving our son sugar right before I picked him up.

Maybe Tommy knew more about timing than I thought.

CHAPTER 3

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