Do you see me there in the living room holding the baby? Adorable, huh?
No, me, not the baby. Though she’s cute too.
“How’s mom life?” I ask Willa when we’re alone, and she’s about to warn me about Scarlet. I don’t know this for sure, but come on, you know it’s coming too, don’t you?
Willa’s rooting through Berlin’s diaper bag, in search of what, I don’t know. “Surprisingly easier than managing you three.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
Sighing, she pulls out a diaper and my eyes widen. I’m not sticking around for a diaper change. Maybe that’s why everyone else left. “Are you being nice to Scarlet?”
I raise an eyebrow, my eyes moving from the baby to Willa. “Define nice?”
Wow. Look at that expression she hands me. Can you believe she doesn’t trust me?
Maybe don’t answer that.
“Shade. . . .”
I frown. “She won’t have sex with me.”
Willa doesn’t miss a beat when she tells me, “Well, I didn’t hire her to have sex with you, Shade. I hired her to keep you in line.” She motions for me to give her the baby, so I do.
“That’s stupid. You knew I’d want to have sex with her. I think I even told you I would.”
Willa rolls her eyes and places Berlin on the couch over the changing pad she laid down. “You guys want anything with a vagina.”
Berlin arches her tiny body and lets out a cry having been put down. I have a feeling she’s held 90 percent of the day. “Not true. I never wanted to have sex with you.”
Willa laughs and begins to take Berlin’s little gray pants off. “That’s because I’m old enough to be your mom.”
“No, you’re not.” And then I realize I don’t think I know how old Willa is. “Are you?”
“You’re twenty-one. I’m thirty-seven. If I would have been getting busy at sixteen, I could be your mom.”
I laugh and hug her one-armed. She’s about to change Berlin’s diaper and I’m not sticking around for that. “Well, damn, girl. You’re old.”
“Shut up and be nice to Scarlet.”
I make it two feet, pause, and wink at her. “Oh, I’m gonna be nice to her all right.”
“Shade. . . .”
“Bye, cute baby.”
“Wait.”
I look over my shoulder. “What?”
“Have you guys been letting Camden on the track?”
Do I lie? Probably not but I still try. “Uh. . . no?”
Willa’s eyes narrow. “Goddamn it, you guys. You know you can’t. If he gets hurt, his dad will sue you guys and win. He’s already making a fuss about the track’s provisional permit. You can’t let that kid on the track anymore.”
“He’s not going to get hurt.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right.”
She’s right. I don’t know that he’s not going to get hurt, and I know very well what would happen if he did.
“Are you going out to Glen Helen today?”
Do you see the way my shoulders tense? I bet if you were inside my body, you’d notice the way my heart thuds faster.
Thirteen. Glen Helen.
“Yeah, Tiller’s going with me.”
Her last warning? “Stay out of trouble.”
Truthfully, I did everything I could to get out of going out to Glen Helen today, but I knew what it meant to the kids out there to have us come out to their events. I remember when I was younger and the pros showed up at the track.
Tiller’s in the den playing pool with Camden when I go to get him. “We gotta go, man.”
Tiller nods and sets down the pool stick. Camden’s shoulders hunch. “Do I get to come?”
Willa’s warning flashes in my head. I shouldn’t let him go with us, but it’s Camden, and I have a hard time telling the kid no. I’ll make quite possibly the worst parent ever because when he pouts, I give in.
Tiller shakes his head. “God, you’re a push over.” And then he glances at Camden and knocks him on the side of the head. “What’d I tell you about pouting?”
“Not to. You said it makes me look like a pussy, but I thought that’s a girl’s vagina.”
Yeah, so maybe him coming with us is a bad idea. But then again, Scarlet’s coming too, so she’ll protect him.
And no, I haven’t asked her yet. All part of my plan. I grab Camden by the back of the neck. “Help me convince Scarlet to come with us.”
Tiller groans and leads the way out of the den. “Okay, so you’re both pussies now. Awesome.”
DO YOU SEE the three of us standing outside the guest house? Okay, actually two of us. Tiller ditched us to start the truck. Said he couldn’t be a part of begging. It goes against his code of ethics. . . whatever that means.
Camden knocks on the door for me and when Scarlet answers wearing a sundress and her nipple rings visible underneath the lilac cotton dress, I for one, have to make an adjustment, and two, blurt out, “Tiller and I have to head out to Glen Helen today. You coming?”
“And me!” Camden pipes up with, practically jumping up and down with his S3 hat on backward and sunglasses.
She smiles at Camden but then stares at me. “Do I need to be there? I should be packing for Seattle and then Spain.”
“What if I get into trouble? You probably should.” And then I lean in, whispering, “Tiller’s coming. You can’t leave us alone with Camden.”
She doesn’t need to go, but is it so wrong that I’ve grown to want her around? I don’t think so. Especially not considering I’m heading to a track that haunts my nightmares. It’d be nice to have Scarlet around.
“Think of the kid.”
Scarlet crosses her arms over her chest, and it does nothing for my problem making itself known in my shorts. “You’re using the kid against me?”
Raising my sunglasses, I wink. “Maybe.”
Shaking her head, she reaches for her bag by the door. “Fine. But I’m driving.”
“Ha.” I put my arm around her once she’s out of the door. “No, you’re not. We want to get there in one piece.” I wave toward the driveway when we’re out of the back gate. “Besides, Tiller’s driving.”
“Shot gun!” Camden calls out, bouncing toward Tiller’s black Ford Raptor.
I’ve never been so excited to sit in the backseat in my life. I reach for the door and let Scarlet in. She raises an eyebrow. “Wow, manners and everything.”
I shrug. “Figured I’d be nice after stealing the baby from you earlier.”
By her look, she knows I’m trying to be nice for more than just stealing a baby.
IT TAKES US an hour and a half to get to Glen Helen Raceway which is just north of San Bernardino. Scarlet and I don’t say a whole lot during the drive. She’s texting Mila. I know this because I look over her shoulder the entire time making sure it’s not a guy she’s texting. If it was, I’d probably rip her phone from her hands and toss it out the window. Just because.
Want to know what’s funny about this? I have probably fifty or sixty unanswered texts from women trying to get me to call them back these last three weeks. Why is it that I’m suddenly ignoring everyone except Scarlet?
Got me. Let me know if you have an answer because I don’t.
“I have a question for you,” Scarlet says to me, standing beside me as I sign autographs for the fifty kids at my feet.
“Oh yeah.” My eyebrows rise as I wipe the sweat from my eyes and then put my sunglasses back on, smiling down at the kids who can’t hear what we’re saying anyway over their own screaming. “What’s that?”
“Well, it’s not a dirty one, if that’s what you think. There are kids present.”
I laugh. “That’s unfortunate.”
“What made you go from motocross to freestyle?”
Believe it or not, most people don’t even ask this question. They just assume I chose freestyle because I liked to show off. And sure, that’s part of it, but believe it or not, that’s not why.
I lean into Scarlet and then motion to Tiller on the track with the kids, flying over the top of them and artfully arching his body into a superman pose, then grabbing the seat and pulling the bike back to him. “Freeriding started out as the original form of freestyle motocross and in these very hills around us. It was simply play riding. A way to blow off steam with no structure and natural jumps to execute the trick. Essentially, before X Fighters and X Games, these guys doing this, guys like my dad and Ricky on the weekends, it was a way to let loose. Eventually it became commercialized like everything else.”
“So what attracts you to freestyle?”
I motion again to Tiller and the smile on his face when he comes back to where we’re standing, a rush of kids wanting their helmets signed surrounding him. “It takes more dedication than motocross, for me at least. The thrill of making up a new trick, practicing it, and then delivering it, nothing beats that feeling.”
My eyes drift to Scarlet’s, and she raises her hands to my sunglasses, but she doesn’t remove them. She slides them to the tip of my nose and makes me look at her. “You’re pretty special, star boy.”
We’re back to star boy. I want to push her up against the billboard we’re next to and kiss the star boy from her lips, but I don’t. I smile, but then my stare drifts from hers to over her shoulder, and the smiles fades. Behind her are the pits and there are memories back there I can’t seem to shake. I want to leave.
My chest tightens, my heart thudding wildly against my chest and I swallow.
Scarlet takes notice in the change and glances in the direction of the pits, then backs up and creates two feet of space between us. “Did you guys come here a lot? Is that why you wanted me here?”
Why does she have to be so intuitive? I nod, but I don’t say anything. My voice isn’t there.
I swallow again; this time it feels dryer, like there’s sand stuck in my throat.
I breathe in slowly, and then let the breath out just as slow.
I’m done letting a memory control me. Twisting around, I face the pits, well, what would be the pits. In the last seven years, it’s changed, but I can still remember where the trailer was parked and where the party was. “She was raped at this track. . . after a race one night,” I tell her lowly when we position ourselves away from the kids. They’re interested in Tiller now anyway.
Scarlet gasps, her hand covering her mouth. “Oh my God, really?”
I shrug, leaning my forearms on the fence and resting my chin on it. “That’s what she told me.”
Looking over at Scarlet, I can’t help but see she really is trying to be my friend. And I want her to be. “Did you believe her?”
Again, I shrug. “I did at the time. . . now I’m not so sure.”
Before the conversation turns dark and not where I want it to go, Tiller hits my calf with the back wheel of his bike and hands me his helmet. “Take a lap, bro.”
I didn’t bring my gear. Purposely. I haven’t raced at Glen Helen since that night, and I didn’t want to. Maybe if I did the memory would leave with it.
Tiller nods to Scarlet. “Take her for a ride.”
“Oh no, I’ve had my fill of dirt bikes.” Scarlet backs up, palms raised and grabs at the fabric of her dress near her hips. “And I’m not exactly wearing the right attire here to be on a bike.”
“She’s right,” I tell Tiller, glaring at him. “You convinced her to ride a dirt bike earlier, remember?”
I no sooner get the words out, and we see Camden walking toward us holding his arm awkwardly toward his chest.
“Fuuuck,” Tiller draws out and lays the bike on its side. He runs over to Camden, who’s not crying, but you can tell he wants to.
Scarlet and I jog over to him as his bottom lip quivers, and he stares at Tiller. “I tried to flip and didn’t make it.”
I shove Tiller. “Ya son of a bitch. Stop telling him to do that shit when you know he can’t land it.”
Tiller shoves me back, just as hard, well no, harder and into Scarlet who’s behind me. “Fuck you. It’s not my fault he didn’t land it. He won’t know unless he tries it.”
“It’s just like you to assume everyone can just get on these bikes and do what you do,” I point out, mostly referring to what happened to Scarlet earlier. “They can’t.”
Scarlet stands between us, her hands on our chests. “Knock it off. We should get him to the hospital.”
So we do. Guess who broke their arm in two spots?
Camden.
Guess who explained to his dad what happened and offered to pay the medical bills?
Tiller.
Guess who was arrested when he punched Jerad Rivera for threatening to sue him?
Again. . . Tiller.
Guess who blew up on his dad and called him a pussy to his face for punching his best friend?
Camden.
I think I got off pretty easy on this one, but then again, I didn’t try to convince Camden to attempt a backflip on his bike. But I did manage to go to Glen Helen and stay out of my head. I like to think something was accomplished today.
It certainly wouldn’t be the end of it with Jerad Rivera either, but whatever. That dude’s a tool.