Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Relief, excitement, and a surge of adrenaline spiral through me as we clear the gate. The Ninja effortlessly responds to my touch. I’m eager to open it up, zip around the truck and speed the fuck out of here. Maybe home.
Venom rolls up on my right. I’ve ridden in formation plenty of times. With guys I know and trust. Being boxed in—the truck with an idiot and a camera hanging out the back—in front of me, Venom on my side, two more bikes behind us, and the vans all keep me from pushing the bike too hard.
Even riding while boxed feels good. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed being out on the open road. Training and winning have been my sole focus.
Are we headed toward some twisty roads? I’d love to hit some wicked curves. Bet the Ninja would handle them effortlessly.
The truck speeds ahead, putting distance between us. With two fingers, Venom signals for me to take the lead.
Wind rushes past me, whipping my T-shirt against my sides. I open up the throttle, catching up to the truck in seconds.
This is such a tease.
After a few miles, the truck signals to turn left and slows. I hit the brakes harder than I meant to. The tires grip hard and screech against the pavement but I keep it under control, gliding through the turn.
A small, white building with sliding windows in front and a long counter running underneath stands in the center of the parking lot.
I roll the bike to a stop next to the truck and shut off the engine. I wait for the camera guy to focus on someone else before taking off my helmet.
Venom’s sneakers crunch over the gravel and he stops next to me. “Did they take us to get ice cream like we’re a bunch of five-year-olds?”
“Looks like it.” I glance at the building. “Maybe if we ask nicely, Jordan will buy us a cheeseburger too.”
He snickers into his hand.
“The fuck is this?” Woolly walks up to us and gestures toward the ice cream shop. “Our first outing in weeks and we’re gettin’ ice cream cones?”
I turn my head and scan the parking lot. Except for the crew and other fighters, it’s empty. Inside the shop, the lights are on, and I can make out two figures. “Maybe they decided we need part-time jobs?” I joke.
“I hope this isn’t some bullshit test to see if we can pull ice cream and mix milkshakes.” Venom scowls. “I already worked that summer job when I was sixteen.”
I glance at the van where Naptime’s scratching his armpits like a monkey. “If it is a test, not everyone’s gonna pass,” I say.
“No joke.” Woolly holds his hand up high.
I roll my eyes but slap his hand.
“Nice!” one of the camera guys shouts.
“What are we doing here?” I shout.
“Outing.” Jordan waves us toward the building. “Order whatever you want. Tables are out back.”
“Hope he brought producer daddy’s credit card.” Venom rubs his hands together. “I’m gonna make him regret that ‘order whatever you want.’”
“Amen. Let’s eat.”
At the window, I hesitate. We’re in the middle of training. We all have matches coming up on Sunday. Is this the test? Seeing how disciplined we are? How committed are we are to winning?
I bump Venom’s arm with my elbow. “You think this is the test?”
“Seeing how much garbage we’ll put in our bodies?” He sighs. “Then when we don’t perform well on Sunday, they’ll blame it on our inability to control ourselves?”
Not exactly how I would’ve put it. “Yeah.”
“Probably.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds. “I’m so tired of the head games.”
“I’m still getting a cheeseburger.” I step up to the window and place my order. Two cheeseburgers and a strawberry milkshake. I’ll work it off later. Venom and Woolly order similar meals.
Thunder must’ve come to the conclusion that we were being tested too. He places a modest order. The rest of the guys order every single deep-fried item on the menu. While I’m waiting at the pickup window, my gaze lands on Jordan, watching Deadass and Naptime with a slight smirk stretched across his lips as they double-fist ice cream cones.
Definitely a test.
“Order up!” The girl behind the counter shoves a bright orange tray at me.
“Thanks.” I grab it and head around the side of the building.
I’m alone for a few minutes and take a second to absorb the humid, summer day. The air’s heavy with the scent of fried food and road fumes, reminding me of summer afternoons and evenings spent at Zips. I’d give anything to be there right now. Helping Pax at the grill, racing Molly’s car—well, we won’t be able to do that until I fix it. No one told me how much damage she did. A baseball bat in Molly’s hands…probably a lot of cosmetic stuff. The glass will be a pain to replace but I’ll get it done. Small price to pay for everything I’ve put Molly through this summer.