My brother sighs. “Wrap it up, Chris.”
She leans in and pecks me on the cheek, whispering into my ear, “Raincheck then?”
“Maybe later,” I say with a wink.
That’s a lie. I never meet up with the same girl twice. Never.
With a cheeky smile, she turns to walk away, swaying her hips as she pushes past Leo and sashays out the door.
“Jesus,” he says, rolling his eyes. “This again.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Leo,” I say, opening my locker.
“You know this isn’t good right before a race.”
“I needed it, and you can’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” I take my suit out of my locker.
“I’m not telling you what you can’t do; I’m just saying you shouldn’t. Distracting yourself with pretty girls won’t make it any easier.”
“No, but at least I get to take my mind off things.” I close my locker. “Like whining brothers.”
“I’m only trying to help.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I worry about you.”
“No need to worry. I’m fine.”
“Fine? You’ve been fucking a different girl every fucking day for the past few years, and it’s only getting worse. I thought it was just a phase and that you’d find peace with whatever is bothering you, but it looks like you’re sinking into a deeper hole, Chris.”
I frown. “That’s not your call to make, all right? What I do in my free time is my business.”
“Yes, it is your business, but I’m only looking out for you, Chris.” He takes a step forward. “Let me help you. I’m your brother, for god’s sake.”
“I don’t need any help,” I say, putting on my suit. “I feel good, like I’m living the life, and yet I can’t say the same about you. How’s the business doing? I heard about some ruckus with a girl, something about a marriage and stuff?” I say.
“Don’t turn the conversation around,” he says.
I put on my shoes. “Well, don’t butt into my life then, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
He sighs. “One day … you’ll find the right girl. I hope.”
“Not likely,” I say. “I’m a bastard who fucks whatever chick walks past him. Who the hell wants a guy like that? I can tell you, these girls only want one thing, and it isn’t my heart. And you know what? I’m perfectly content with that.” I pick my helmet up from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a race to win.”
I try to walk past him, but he puts his arm around my shoulders and drags me in for a rub over the head. Goddammit. I hate it when he does that.
“Cheer up, Chris. Frowning doesn’t suit your playboy face.”
“Ha-ha. You know, one of these days I’m going to give you back that wedgie you gave me in kindergarten.”
“Ha, I’d like to see you try,” he jests.
We exchange looks, smirking too. Sometimes I want to ram a stick up his ass. Sometimes I want to give him a big ol’ hug. I guess that’s what brothers are for.
“You owe me now; you know that, right?” I say.
“What? For that missed fuck?” He laughs. “Not a chance. You can score them anytime; no need for me to do that for you.”
“Now I have to drive my motorcycle with blue balls.” I look him straight in the eyes. “Have you ever tried to drive a fucking motorcycle with nuts that feel like they’re about to explode?”
He’s trying not to laugh, but it’s not working. “No, but you chose this, so you’d better stick to your guns. Winning races is more important than fucking random chicks.”
“Says the dude who owns a women’s magazine. I bet you see more pussy in a day than I do in a week.”
“I doubt that.”
He says that now, but the smug grin on his face betrays his answer.
I squint. “You fucking liar.”
“Shhh …” he says. “Just keep that between us. It’s been a long time since that happened anyway.”
“What? You afraid Sam will hear it?” I say as we walk out. “Your old man-whorish days might be behind you, but I can still use it as ammo.”
“Don’t you dare,” he growls, squeezing me tight. “Unless you want to have those blue balls stomped on, because that’s exactly what she’ll do once you tell her about my past.”
“All right, all right,” I say, laughing and coughing at the same time. “I won’t.”
“You’d better not. I’m a changed man, thanks to her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Aww … are you pussy-whipped now?” I muse.
“It’s called a girlfriend. You should try it once,” he jests.
“Never.”
“What’s the harm? Afraid you’re going to actually feel something?”
“Nah, I just don’t want to end up like you.”
He rubs my head again, messing with my hair. I quickly put on my helmet so he can’t bother me anymore. “Wish me luck!”
“Imagine there’s a girl waiting to ride you after the race,” he yells. “That should help you win.”
I give him a thumbs-up as I walk out to wave at the crowd like I always do before a race. My brother thinks the girls I fuck day and night are the prizes, but to me, they’re like the liquor you drown yourself in. Day in, day out. Just to forget what I really think and really want.
My brother doesn’t know what I really need to win this race. But I appreciate his effort.
I’m fully enjoying the attention of the crowd as they scream and shout my name. I know they love a good show, but I don’t race for them. I don’t do it for the fame, the money … not even the pussy. I do it for her.
The girl in the stands. The girl sitting right next to my parents, trying to pretend I’m not here. She’s only here because she’s supposed to be. Family supports one another, but I know she wouldn’t be here if she really had a choice.
The annoyed look on her face speaks volumes, dampening my joy. But every goddamn time, I still look up and try to find her in the bleachers, hoping one day she might look down at me with a smile.
That girl. My stepsister.
One day she’ll forgive me.
One day …
Chapter 2
Emily
The engines rev as the racers zoom past us, taking a corner so sharp it makes me hold my breath just for a second, but I’m not worried. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know why I hold my breath in the first place. Chris never crashes, and even if he did, I wouldn’t care.
Not even a little bit.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Sighing, I return my attention to the book in my hands and pretend I’m not here. The sounds of the bikers trying to outrace each other are distracting. I can’t wait until this is over and I can get back to work.
“Emily, c’mon, why aren’t you looking at your brother?” Tricia says.
“He’s not my brother,” I say.
She frowns at me, the stern look in her eyes almost burning the book in my hand. “Christopher is as much your brother as I am your mother.”
“But you aren’t my mother,” I say. It’s the truth, even though she doesn’t want to hear it. She is not my mother, and she never will be.
“Emily!” Her jaw drops. “We are not doing this. Not here,” she whispers.
“We don’t have to … as long as you’ll just let me read,” I muse, smiling at her.
She doesn’t seem amused, so I sigh and shrug. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch.”
“Good. We’re here to support your brother. One day won’t hurt.”
Any second hurts for me. God, sometimes I really want to shake her, but that would ruin her perfect hair. I muffle a laugh, thinking of how she’d look. She’s always so uptight … I still can’t believe my father ever fell for her.
Well, not that it matters now. My father isn’t here anymore.
I turn my head and look at my supposed family who are all up cheering him on. They’re all smiling and waving, and I wonder if they think it’ll really help Chris. I know he can’t see them; there’s no time to look at the people in the bleachers when you’re in a race against the clock … and against other people. But it’s the thought that matters.
I close my book, watching the drivers pass each other, the motorcycles screeching from the heat.