Page 13 of Burnout
“And you caused a scene and broke your contract by fighting with your own teammate.”
I was pissed when I saw Link on the podium celebrating what should have been my victory. All I could see was red. I was so fucking close. Five years of sitting on the sidelines waiting for an opportunity and then there it was, so close I could almost feel that trophy in my hands…and then it was gone.
“It won’t happen again,” I say through gritted teeth.
He barks a short laugh. “It wasn’t an isolated event. You and Link were bickering all season. I know he isn’t perfect, but you should have been setting an example, not fanning the flames.”
“I said it won’t happen again.” I can keep my mouth shut and my hands to myself. I can do anything if it means getting another chance.
“Even if I believed that, I couldn’t convince the rest of ownership. We just can’t have that kind of atmosphere. You’re a liability we can’t afford.”
“Come on, Mike. One more shot, that’s all I’m asking.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice resolute. “I really am, but you won’t be racing with us next season.”
I close my eyes and let my head fall back.
At my silence, he adds, “If I were you, I’d spend the next few months reflecting on your actions. If you want to make this a career, you need to grow up and figure out how to stop letting your temper get the best of you. The racing world is small, and people talk.”
Grow up? He thinks I need to grow up. It’s laughable, really. He has no idea the responsibilities I had thrust on me at an early age or how much rests on my shoulders. I’m not looking for pity, I’d do it all over again. But now is my shot.
I just want to race. I want towin. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself.
I park outside of the gym at Valley High School as Flynn is pushing out of the double doors with some of his basketball teammates. When he spots my truck, he juts his chin at his friends and then takes off at a jog toward me.
Flynn opens the passenger door and tosses a wad of Valley High crimson red material into the back with his duffel.
“What’s all that?” I ask.
“The new warmups came in.”
“Shit. I completely forgot.” I shift the truck into park. “Is your coach still in there?”
Flynn looks at me, a confused expression marring his sweaty brow. His reddish-brown hair is plastered to his forehead.
“To pay him,” I clarify. Flynn mentioned needing the money for warmups, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind.
“I already paid him.”
“Did you get a job when I wasn’t paying attention?” I ask, knowing damn well he didn’t. Keeping up with his schoolwork while playing sports is a full-time gig. I’ve done my best to make sure that he doesn’t have to stress about money for whatever he needs so he can focus on normal teenage stuff.
I want him to have the high school experience I didn’t. Our mom passed years before I was a senior and our dad was rarely around. Hendrick had already left for college, so it was on me to make sure we had a place to live and food to eat, plus clothes and school shit. I dropped out as soon as I turned eighteen and got a job at a local HVAC company so that we could all stay together, but even working full-time, extra cash to do things like go out with friends was rare.
It’s why I quit racing for a while. Motocross can get expensive with the constant bike upkeep and entry fees. The time away from work and my brothers was hard too.
Archer and Brogan helped out when they could, getting jobs over the summer and after school when it wasn’t football season, but I never wanted my brothers to feel like they needed to give up things or pick up my slack. One of us putting our dreams on hold was more than enough.
Flynn was only eight when Mom died. We protected him the most. It was never discussed, but looking back, I can see how we all gave up things so he could have the most normalcy.
“Hendrick gave me the money,” my little brother says as I’m pulled from my own thoughts.
Annoyed, not at him, but at myself for forgetting and then making it someone else’s problem, I do my best to keep my voice level as I reply, “I told you I’d give it to you.”
“I know, but I forgot to remind you and I needed it today, so I asked Hendrick when he dropped me off this morning.”
I nod, working my jaw back and forth. I should be thankful, but instead it makes me feel like I’m failing.
The one day I didn’t take Flynn to school. It’s usually me who drops off and picks up, but this morning I was on the phone making calls and worrying about my career, so when Hendrick offered to take our baby brother, I agreed. The other option—letting Flynn borrow my car—was absolutely not happening. He has his license, but drives like shit. He’s wrecked one car already.
