Chapter Five

The roar of bikes and music thundered throughout the arena, vibrating up my spine. Down on the floor, right next to the action, engines revved deafeningly. I poked the earplugs in deeper. The VIP pass hanging from our necks put us only feet away from the starting gate. Fans waved signs, with the number 8 or “The Haze” on them, their chants somehow rising over the ear-piercing noise.

I bounced on my toes with excitement, searching for Hunter. I hadn’t seen or heard from him all day. I knew his schedule was insane, but I couldn’t fight the hurt I experienced when he didn’t return my texts. Stevie and I had fun checking out Denver, but I hated the feeling of waiting for his call. Even here, I didn’t feel much different from when I was back home, trying not to stare at my non-ringing phone.

I knew it wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t take away the sick feeling. My whole world had revolved around Colton: where he went, I went, his choice of movies, food, and weekend activities. Even on our anniversary I let him lead. I hated those “romantic” dinners, but I kept quiet, being the dutiful girlfriend so I wouldn’t make waves.

I had barely stepped away from that girl, but now I was finding it too easy to settle back into the mold of pleasing people, living through others… and worse, through the guy I was seeing.

“He’s behind the third gate.” Jones leaned into my ear, pointing at Hunter. I nodded, spotting Hunter’s frame.

Stevie grabbed my arm, shaking it with excitement. She loved the thrill and the palpable energy springing over the riders and fans. Chris had brought her to a couple of races when Hunter and I weren’t speaking to each other. Neither of us had been in a while, and like me, I knew she missed being here, down in the commotion, watching them ride.

A scarcely dressed girl, who I recognized to be Joyce from the night before, walked onto the track, holding up a sign with the number 30 on it. The engines revved louder, each one preparing to take the lead. I had only been to one race, but Jones and Doug had taught me a lot, so I knew how important your performance was out of the gate. It could determine the entire race.

I watched the clock roll down to zero, then the gates in front of the riders folded down, letting them loose. Pillows of dirt mushroomed behind the bikes as they leaped forward, tearing up the track to get in the lead.

Hunter’s bike was cut off by the lead guy, who blew dirt behind him as he rounded the corner. The presenter’s voice screamed out, barely audible from our position.

“He can take back the lead,” Jones said more to himself than me, his usually hazy eyes laser-focused on Hunter. Here was Manager Jones, studying every nuance of Hunter’s performance, muttering to himself like he was the commentator. Clapping and yelling at his “client.” He couldn’t hide his pride in Hunter. It made me happy to be part of Hunter’s world too.

Our entire hometown knew of The Haze now, but only a few months ago, before AMA called him, the community treated him as a drugged-out loser who smoked behind the bleachers with his friends, skipping class. They all said he would follow in Doug’s path, a dropout working at the garage. When I found out the truth about Hunter, it flipped my universe. Besides his friends, I was the first he let into this circle. To see this side of him.

“Shit!” Jones spat, frowning as Hunter’s bike was overtaken by three more riders. “What the hell is going on with him? He’s never dropped to fifth place.”

Worry swam through my stomach, my teeth sinking into my lip. I bobbed on my toes, my hands clasped, watching his bike fly over the mounds, but he continued to be inched back by another rider, almost like they could feel a weakness in him.

“Come on, Hunter,” I muttered to myself, anxiously observing him slip back again.

“What the fuck?” Jones screamed, throwing out his arms. “Get your head together, man.”

The announcer confirmed it was the last leg in this round, Hunter now in eighth place. He couldn’t come back from that.

The leader, a guy named Jeremy who had been the champion the last two years, took first spot, the crowd going ballistic as his bike leaped over the finish line. Numbers and names were broadcasted in succession as riders crossed the line. The audience booed when The Haze was announced in eighth place.

Jones rubbed his hat with frustration, toeing the dirt.

“What does that mean?” Stevie eyed the board. “He’s still okay, right?”

There wasn’t just one race, but many during the night, different lengths and styles, points given based on each race, moving you up or down the scoreboard. Not every rider was in every race.

“His important race is later, but right now Hunter can’t afford to be off. Even for one race.” Jones stared up, blinking. “All eyes are on him; his sponsors want to know they have a sure thing, not a wild card.” Jones eyes looked right at me. “They’ll pull out the moment he starts losing if he’s not on his game. Distracted.”

Muscles around my lungs contracted, feeling the comment stab into my chest. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Fault is not the word I would use… But Jayme, he had the worst practice and has been preoccupied all day.”

“That’s not her responsibility.” Stevie put her hands on her hips.

“I’m not blaming her; I’m just telling the truth.” Jones waggled his head, taking a step. “I’m gonna go talk to him before his next race. Chris will be in that one too.”

Jones didn’t wait for a response before he jogged off for the holding area where the riders waited until their race.

“Screw that!” Stevie frowned. “This is on Hunter, not you.”

“I know,” I replied, though I didn’t feel it connect in my heart. For more than two months Hunter had never wavered; he was in the solid top three the entire time. Yet, I show up and he drops to eighth?

“I need a beer,” Stevie stated, glancing back at the refreshment stand. “Looks like you might need a drink too.”

“Yeah.” I folded my arms over my V-neck navy T-shirt, staring down at my jeans and knee-high boots.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Stevie yelled over the high-pitched buzz of bikes rounding the course near us. She tore off for the beer stand.

Absently watching the parade of dirt bikes jumping past me, my gut churned with the same fear I felt earlier. The ground felt thin and patchy, and I had no idea why. We had fought so much to get here. We were finally together. Happy.

“So… you’re Hunter’s girlfriend?” I jerked at the sound of a woman’s voice beside me. It took me a moment to place her, but her stick-straight long black hair, her full red lips, and double-D boobs brought her back to memory. The girl from the party who openly glared at me the hardest when we first walked in.

“Uh. Yeah.” It felt strange to hear it out loud or call myself that when not long ago my name had been linked as Colton’s girlfriend. Plus, Hunter and I hadn’t established exactly what we were to each other yet.

She didn’t veil her disparaging scrutiny of me. “Hmmmm.”

“Do you have a problem?” I turned fully toward her, trying to hide my insecurity. She was in her mid-twenties and held herself with an assuredness that made me feel as though I were an inch tall. She was so stunning you could forget her nails, tan, and caked-on makeup created an illusion of perfection. Not that any man would see past her toned legs, abs, and huge boobs. I couldn’t help feeling like a little church mouse compared to her.

“No.” She smiled, more saccharine sweetness that wasn’t real. “You are adorable. A homegrown girl.”

Adorable. That fucking word. It was like stepping back to the Doug’s house with Sunny, one of Hunter’s old “girlfriends.” They clearly enjoyed demeaning someone to make themselves feel bigger. They acted as if I were young, sweet, and naive, and they could bat me away like a fly.

“Let me guess. You think Hunter could do better.” I ground my teeth. Like I did with Sunny, on the outside I would not show she could stomp on me, though my knees wobbled under her self-confidence.

“Oh girl…” She shook her head like I was the biggest fool alive. Walking around me, she whispered in my ear from behind. “He already has. And still does.” She strutted past me, her hips swinging forcefully. My stomach twisted all the way up my esophagus as I watched her.

She blew kisses at the stands, causing men to howl and cheer for her. She was most men’s fantasy. No guy would ever say no to her.

My gaze darted back to the dirt at my feet, bile climbing up my throat, filling my soul with doubt. Had Hunter slept with her? She made it sound like a recent and continual thing.

“Sorry, all they had was beer.” Stevie bumped my hip, handing me the drink. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to cry then barf all over the ground.”

My fingers gripped the cold plastic, bringing it to my mouth, guzzling back the liquid. It tasted disgusting, my tongue revolting at the sharp tang, but I pushed on, needing to drown my abysmal feeling. I finished the liquid with a violent shake of my head. “Ackkk.”

Stevie’s gaze burned into me, twisting me to look at her. Her brows furrowed, a skeptical look scurrying over me.

“What?” I tossed the empty cup in the garbage near me.

“You hate beer,” she replied. “I thought you’d sip it, then give it to me. Because not only don’t you like it, but it’s really shitty beer… You downed it like water. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, her arms opening. “Am I stupid? I know you, Whiskey. Don’t tell me nothing.” She tapped her foot. “‘You aren’t taking what Jones said seriously, right? Because it’s bullshit. You are not to be blamed for Hunter’s failings. That’s all him.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” she countered. “Because it doesn’t look like it to me.”

For some reason I didn’t feel like sharing what just happened with Stevie, as if saying it out loud would make it true. Hunter said he hadn’t been with anyone recently. What did that mean anyway? What time frame were we talking here? We really weren’t together those two months he was on tour. Technically, it had only been five days since he asked me to come here. Did he mean since then? Six days ago she could have been the one in his bed.

Jones’s showing up stopped the conversation from continuing, my focus going to him.

“Is Hunter okay?” I asked.

“Pissed off.” Jones rubbed his eyes. “Hopefully this next race he will get it back. Told me to say hi.”

“Can I see him?” I needed to see his eyes, feel the sureness from his smile, that what we had was real.

“No. Not right now. He needs to focus and pull himself together.” Jones pressed his lips together.

Ten minutes later the gates dropped open and once again Hunter missed the holeshot, taking third around the corner.

Jones’s arms went in the air, and he paced around. “Come on!”

Anxiety sat heavily on my chest. Again, I danced on my toes, watching him fly around the dirt path. I didn’t know enough about the sport or what made it a good or bad run, but it was like Hunter’s bike was set on low speed while everyone was on supercharge. Each pass or jump of his bike seemed to bring others forward and him backward.

“Holy shit!” Stevie screamed next to me, excitement jumping her up and down. “Go, Tarzan!”

My attention jerked to the number fifteen as Chris’s bike soared past Hunter’s. There was a moment you could see Chris’s head turn to Hunter, as if to say, What the fuck, man? How am I passing you? But he kept on his game, sailing through the route.

Stevie’s face glowed with her smile. Her eyes locked on him, her hands pressed to her mouth like she was holding her glee in until she knew he’d stay in the fifth spot.

As excited as I felt for Chris, disappointment filled me as I watched Hunter struggle.

“A shocking turn events for The Haze.” The announcer’s voice blared over the speakers. “He’s fallen to ninth, with only one lap to go. For someone who had been taking the supercross world by storm, already setting himself to be a legend… this is heartbreaking to watch.”

My throat closed around itself, and I had to turn away, hearing the winners cross the finish line.

“Mother—” Jones yelled, tearing off his cap and throwing it on the ground, displaying his short wavy hair. “Fuck!”

Unlike Jones and me, Stevie was cheering and dancing around when Chris’s name was called out at fourth place.

“I can’t believe he did it!” She reached her arms in victory. “Fourth place!”

For a substitute rider who didn’t position above fifteenth place, this was huge. I cheered for Chris, whooping as the announcer talked about his placement, but I couldn’t deny the yucky sensation crawling over my body when Hunter’s name was called. Fifteenth place. A hard fall from first.

Jones swung down and grabbed his hat, his face red with anger, his jaw set. He kept shaking his head, muttering under his breath.

“Chris did well.” I tried to lighten his mood. Jones was also “managing” Chris, but Hunter was his bread and butter. Chris wasn’t at the level to garner sponsor deals and advertisements.

“Yeah.” Jones nodded, a brief smile curling his mouth as he watched Stevie dance around. “And she says she hates him. Didn’t she say she wished he’d be slowly eaten by locusts?” He winked.

“Yeah, well, we both know that’s a total lie.”

“He’s full of it too.” Jones breathed out, twisting his hat back on. He looked different without it, like a sweet little boy, and I felt strangely better when he put it back on, like it had become my security blanket as well.

Stevie settled next to me.

“Someone’s happy.” I nudged her.

“Whatever. Just shows monkeys can be trained.” She pursed her lips, stuffing back her smile, shrugging. “Actually, that’s an insult to monkeys. They are a hell of lot smarter than that Neanderthal.”

I smirked, rolling my eyes.

“You want to go back?” Jones pointed, already taking steps to the holding area.

I nodded, waving Stevie to follow. The three of us slipped past the security and gates, our passes letting us have free run of the place.

All the races were over and most riders were off their bikes, celebrating, getting ready for interviews or heading back to the hotel in defeat. The promo girls swarmed everywhere, along with reporters, TV crew, and podcasters.

It was like I could sense him without looking. I stared at his back with a pang of anxiety.

Hunter tore off his helmet, tossing it into the dirt so hard it bounced several times, his foot ramming into his precious bike, tipping it over. I couldn’t hear him, but I saw his mouth moving, fury flying out as he walked in a circle.

I had seen Hunter angry before, but nothing like this. Even the night his father yelled and hit him, he had kept himself in check.

“Why don’t we meet you back at the hotel?” Jones placed his hands on my shoulders, stopping me from getting to Hunter.

“No…” My attention wouldn’t snap away from Hunter’s figure. So much rage burst from him, and all I wanted to do was comfort him.

“Jayme, he needs to cool down.” Jones’s squeeze on my shoulders turned me to him. “I’ve known him a long time. It’s not a good time. He needs to work this out.”

I looked back and forth hesitantly. Jones did know Hunter better than I did; they’d been friends since grammar school. Would I only make it worse?

“We’ll see you back at the hotel.” Jones’s eyes met mine, like he needed me to agree.

“Okay.” I took a step back with a nod.

Jones ran off for his boy, while Stevie laced her fingers through mine, tugging me the opposite way. I watched Jones walk up to Hunter. When Hunter’s gaze snapped to mine, only rage shot out of his eyes, his jaw clenching before he turned away from me.

I understood he’d need a bit of time, but it still felt like a rejection. That he didn’t want me there. That my presence wouldn’t calm or console him.

Trailing Stevie, my face slammed into her back when she came to a sudden stop.

“Ow.” I rubbed my nose. “What’s wro—” My question stopped, tracking Stevie’s gaze. Next to the winning riders, Chris stood with his arms around two promo girls, cameras flashing as one of the girls brazenly kissed him. With a whole lot of tongue. Ewww. And he gripped her face, pulling her in closer. The cheer of the fans encouraged him to indulge.

“Is she your girlfriend?” a reporter yelled out.

“I am.” The girl broke away from his mouth, smiling salaciously at the cameras.

Stevie stood there frozen, her lids blinking rapidly.

“Stevie…” I squeezed her fingers.

“What?” she said flippantly, shaking the emotion off her like a wet dog. “They’re perfect; maybe together they can reach the IQ level of twelve.” She yanked me forward, shoving through the crowd like a linebacker.

Neither of us spoke much on the way back. My few attempts to get her to open up were met with a firm wall.

“Bar,” she said the moment we got out of the taxi, striding into the lobby and straight to the restaurant, settling us on a pair of empty stools. “A double bourbon on the rocks!” she yelled at the bartender.

A handsome older gentleman in his early forties with a full beard strolled over to us, grinning, his brown eyes twinkling at us. “ID,” he said to Stevie, then raised his eyebrow to me. “And you?”

“Coke.” Damn this “being underage” thing. Another thing to look forward to in Italy. In the US you could buy a gun or go to war and die but not have a drink. Totally made sense.

“Pepsi okay?”

“Okay… that’s it. This day officially sucks.” I groaned dramatically, making him chuckle. “I’ll have a cranberry juice.”

He nodded, returning Stevie’s ID, retreating to get our drinks.

“He’s sexy.” Stevie watched him walk away.

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t do this as retaliation.”

“I’m not!” She denied it way too quickly. “I couldn’t care less what he’s doing and with who.”

“Stevie.” I tilted my head, showing her I didn’t believe a word. “Plus, didn’t you tell me to not let you get blinded by a muscular ass this weekend?”

“I said a rider’s ass,” she corrected me. “Maybe it’s not a sex preference thing, but an age thing. I need a man or a woman. Not these little boys and girls.”

“He’s, like, forty-something,” I said quietly.

“Your point?” She kept her eyes on him as he poured her drink. “Never gone that much older. Say it’s about time I give it a try.”

I knew there was no point in pushing her to admit this was really about Chris. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge it herself, and I would only piss her off, leading to a fight.

“Here you go, ladies.” The bartender set our glasses on napkins. “How do you want to pay for it?”

“Leave a tab open.” Stevie pulled out a credit card, eyeing him seductively. “I think I will be here for a while. I enjoy watching you work.” She motioned to his ass.

He nodded, taking the card, giving her a smile before he left us. I couldn’t tell by his smile which way he landed on Stevie flirting with him.

“Oh, Stevie, Stevie.” I shook my head.

“You know I am an opportunist. Love the variety. Why settle when so far no one can keep up with me?” She knocked her glass against mine in a hasty cheers. “Maybe Russell here will be able to show me a thing or two.”

I burst out laughing, picturing the old crochety man from the movie Up.

“Like you’re going to be in the room tonight anyway.” She smirked, waggling her eyebrows. “You’ve had a taste, and now there’s no going back.”

I was like a fiend now. All day I felt on fire, wanting nothing more than to see him, craving him, my body coming alive with the shadow of him on my skin.

I glanced at the door, hoping Hunter would walk in.

“I’m happy for you, Whiskey.” Stevie turned to me. “But be careful. Don’t be the girl who watches the door or phone, gets lost in the lust bubble, and forgets you have your own life.”

I swallowed; Stevie’s words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.

“Hunter’s almost nineteen. His life is taking a dramatic turn, his dreams coming true. He might not see how much he’s twisting you to fit his world. He’s a good guy, but he’s still a dude. They tend to be single-minded and a little selfish.”

“I won’t be that girl. I mean, I’m going to Italy soon.”

“And why is it you haven’t told him you’re going yet?”

My mouth opened, then closed. I had kept telling myself I would, but I got caught up in his world, in coming here. I put it off, and I didn’t even really know why, like my dreams and plans weren’t as important as his.

What did that say about me? About us?