Page 5 of Down & Dirty

CORY

“How many of those have you had?” Billy asked from where he was crouched on the other side of the bike, his eyes locked on the energy drink in my hand.

“Two.” I tossed back the last of the offensively sweet drink and dropped the can in the trash.

“You think that’s gonna fix things?”

I didn’t like the skepticism in his tone. After last week’s fall, Billy had been watching me in warm-ups like he used to when I was younger; like he thought I was about to do something foolish.

“There’s nothing to fix,” I lied, the ache in my back only slightly dulled from the weak painkillers I’d taken. I never used the hard stuff on race days. It clouded my mind and even I wasn’t stupid enough to ride like that. “We had a good first moto. I’m fine.”

Billy knew me well enough, he didn’t do more than glare at me for a second longer before he dropped it. We’d been at this for years. Me riding a little banged up was practically the norm these days.

“Just keep your eyes on the prize,” he finally said, standing up tall and pocketing the wrench in his hand.

The ‘prize’ had been a moving target over the years. It startedout as being fearless. Doing the most badass jumps and scaring the crap out of myself and anyone watching. Back then it had been more about numbing myself and tuning out the world than winning.

But eventually it became hitting the podiums every time, knowing that would shut up the haters better than anything. And then it was about the money. Not just the prize money; the endorsement deals. High-class brands that enjoyed contrasting my rough exterior with all their glittered refinery. Grabbing for that cash carrot that had hung in front of me the longest. It was still dangling there, never out of sight.

Now with this SuperMotoCross season they’d put in place for next year, that carrot was all I could see. The purse for the overall winner was a million dollars. But even the schmuck who came in fourth could make almost $200k.

I wanted in on that kind of purse. But the dividends that would pay in landing me contract extensions were almost as sweet. The biggest gig I had, Harmsch Watches, was due for a renewal and cinching a top spot in this overall competition would seal that deal for years to come. When OTM had reached out to me about joining their team for next season, I’d made sure I had the green light to keep every one of my side jobs. None of them had anything to do with racing, so there were never any conflicts. It was a win-win-win.

Which was exactly what I was planning on doing in this last race to make sure I solidified my spot on the team.

I grabbed my helmet and yanked the bike off the stand, watching impatiently as Billy snagged his backpack and slid onto the seat behind me. I put it in gear and headed for the gate.

The energy pounded through the crowds around us. We weren’t the only ones amped up for this final show. The rest of the riders filed in, lining up and going through their last checks and rituals. Some of the guys sent up prayers, eyes rising to the sky. A few looked toward someone off course. But none of that was for me.

I’d never had anyone to look at or enough faith in anything to pray to. The only things keeping me on my bike every race were me and my mechanic. So, I turned to my friend as he handed me my goggles and did the only thing anyone could have considered a pre-race ritual.

“See you on the other side,” I said, sliding my goggles into place just as he tapped my helmet with a nod.

“Good luck.”

As the gate dropped and the bikes roared to life, the neat row splintered into a broken wave of flying dirt and screaming metal. Tearing at the throttle, I aimed for the near edge of the first corner, keeping just enough distance between me and the guys on either side to stay upright as our tires dug into the thick dirt.

Up a sloping tabletop jump and around another tight bend before hitting the whoops. The series of smaller, closer bumps sent the first rider off course. Hitting them at the right speed was hard with only inches between our tires, but by the time we got to the next rhythm section, the pack had thinned out enough and I snagged a spot with a clean line and a little room to breathe.

I would have cruised to an easy top ten finish if I’d just held my line and kept on the gas. But when I felt heat on the back of my neck, I turned in time to catch a bright yellow jersey nipping at my heel. I wasn’t sure who it was, and I didn’t much care. I wasn’t giving up my spot, and if I had to put more distance between us, I would.

After a few more laps I was on the rear tire of the guy in fourth and knew I had the room to overtake him. Just as I went to squeeze into the inside of the last corner, that same canary yellow lit up my peripheral vision.

“Not today, champ,” I mumbled, cutting him off and forcing him into the deep dirt that had gathered at the base of the curve. It was a risky move. There wasn’t a lot of room between us and the hay bales that lined the course, but I edged past him and gunned it.

Soaring over the finish line in third place, I pumped my fist inthe air. A clean ride was a good ride, and that had been a hell of a lot of fun.

Billy was there to greet me as I hopped off the bike, giving me a stiff one-armed hug as a wide smile exploded across his face.

“Jesus, Ellis, you find a time machine out there? You looked like a kid again.”

A deep laugh barreled out of me before I could stop it. With the adrenaline coming down, the pain that shot through my back reminded me that no matter how I’d looked out there, I was far from the unbreakable kid I used to be.

“I told you I was fine.”

Billy smirked, smacking my shoulder. “I think those energy drinks helped.”

CHAPTER 4

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