Page 9 of Burnout
His shoulders shake with his laughter. Someone calls out to him and tosses him a beer. He nods his thanks as he catches it in one hand. “Want one?” he asks, offering it to me.
“No thanks.”
With another nod, he flicks the top a couple of times before opening it. He takes a long drink before asking, “Honestly, what’d you think?”
“That was some cool shit. I had no idea you were doing tricks like that. Are you planning on competing at the next X games?”
“Fuck, I dunno. Right now, this tour is all I can think about. We’re booked nearly every weekend from now until Christmas.”
“Seriously?” I’m not sure what I pictured when I heard he was touring and doing freestyle events, but it was a lot more casual than the event they pulled tonight.
“Yeah.” He shakes his head and takes another drink. “Up and down the West Coast. Monster truck rallies and fairs, you name it.”
“That’s really cool, man.”
“Thanks. How are things going for you? I was sorry to hear that Thorne dropped you. You had a hell of a season. That kid Link is a real piece of work.”
I huff a short laugh. “Yeah, he’s something all right.”
“Have you already signed with someone else?”
“No, not yet.”
He looks at me with a barely contained surprised expression.
“I’ll figure it out.” I try to wave it off, but the truth is it stung. After Link crashed into me at the final race, he went on to win. I was lucky I wasn’t injured, just banged up. But I was pissed. I said some things, he said some things, and then I lost my head. I pushed him in front of the media and our team owner, Mike, and that was that. They cut me loose.
“No doubt. You had a hell of a year. You’re the guy to beat next season and everyone knows it. I bet you have a new team by the end of the week. You’ll be out of this desert heat and training on a fancy track next to the ocean with dieticians and specialized workouts and all that shit.”
“Nah. I was planning on coming back here anyway. It’s Flynn’s senior year of high school, so I need to stick around as much as possible.”
“Baby Holland is a senior?” Colter’s brows rise in disbelief. “Damn. It doesn’t seem possible that we graduated more than five years ago now.”
I nod my agreement. It doesn’t seem possible to me either, but that’s because I didn’t graduate. I understand what he means though. And it’s all the more reason I need to be here to make sure Flynn finishes school and gets a scholarship to one of his top colleges.
“Seriously, you killed out there.” I turn the conversation back to Colter. “I’m impressed. The atmosphere, the energy, the whole event was cool as hell.”
“You’ve never been to a freestyle event before?”
“Just the small ones at races. I always wanted to go to the X Games, but it’s never worked out.”
He beams at me, looking more like the gangly bucktoothed kid he was fifteen years ago. “Well, hey, if you’re looking for something to do until you get the team thing worked out, we can always use another person.”
“Freestyle?”
“Why not? I’ve seen you pull a few tricks.”
“Yeah, just messing around.”
“That’s all we’re doing.”
He’s underselling the talent it takes to flip a bike while moving around above it, and then land it clean, for sure.
“I don’t think so.” My only focus for the next few months is to train my ass off and convince Mike to bring me back on with his team.
“If you change your mind, say the word. Even if you don’t want to run tricks, we can always use more hands setting up and tearing down. We leave on Thursday night or Friday morning and come back late Saturday or Sunday. Quick turnaround. Lots of fun. I’ll add your pay directly to the Knox Holland fine fund in anticipation for all your future fights.”
“Fuck off.” I scratch the side of my face with my middle finger.
