Page 52 of Moto
I scan the mob of motorcycles on the lookout for Riley and Knight. It’s dark, but the numerous five-gallon drums of fire shed enough light to see into the distance. The air smells like a campfire mixed with burning rubber while the roar of racing exhausts howl in the distance. Outside the hospital, this is my life, my family. A motley crew of men and women riding carbon fiber horses in the middle of nowhere, free as a bird.
Reese asked me why I came back. This is why. This community. This privilege. This easy abandon. I missed it. Missed my feral side. Here, I can express who I am, both personalities, the professional and the tempestuous.
The land is littered with brightly colored Yamahas, Ducatis, and Hondas, so it catches me off guard when I see a white custom Kawasaki part the crowd like the Red Sea. What surprises me even more is that he has a girl on the back.
Reese pulls up next me, a small group of people flocking to us once he parks. We don’t even exchange a hello before the barrage for autographs begins. For a solid five minutes, Reese works the crowd, taking pictures, signing helmets, shirts and boobs all while the girl on the back clings to him shyly.
“Okay! Okay!” I bellow. If no one steps in, he’ll be trapped here all night. “Let the man breathe already! This isn’t a fuckin’ celebrity appearance!”
Reese signs a few last items before the horde dissipates.
Vultures.
I clasp my brother’s hand as he gets comfortable in the clearance.
“Who’s your friend?” I address the girl. When she removes her helmet—the blacked-out lid with pink racing stripes—I nearly fall off my bike. “What the . . . “Kayla?”
“Hey.” She actually has the decency to look guilty.
What’s going on here?My eyes jump furiously between the two of them. Am I inTheTwilight Zone? The woman who proclaims publicly she doesn’t like bikes—or bikers—is currently sitting comfortably on my twin’s back seat, looking like she belongs there. Or at least belongs on the back of someone’s bike. I notice the way Reese touches her thigh, and I instantly become defensive, like a predator just moved in on my territory. How did this happen? What am I missing? Before I can erupt, Kayla flies off the back of Reese’s monster.
“Holy shit!” she nearly squeals. “Hold this.” She slams her helmet into Reese’s gut then takes off jogging into the distance.
Reese and I are both left perplexed until we see her nearly knock down another woman. It looks like an ecstatic reunion. You know, one of those girly ones where they jump up and down, hugging and carrying on.
I use this as the perfect opportunity to pounce.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I nearly rip Reese’s jugular out.
“What the fuck do you mean?” he snaps back.
“I mean what the fuck are you doing with Kayla?” I speak slowly, punctuating my words, hoping they stab him right in the dick.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re fucking around. What are you doing back here anyway? Shouldn’t you be gallivanting across Europe right now?”
“I’m taking a break.” He situates his helmet and Kayla’s on the gas tank.
“A break from what?” I’m completely confused.
“Racing.”
“What?” I’ve never heard anything so preposterous fly out of my brother’s mouth. “You don’t take breaks from racing.”
“I do now.” Reese keeps his gaze focused on Kayla, which only infuriates me more.
“She’s a good girl, Reese.” My tone is threatening.
“I know she is.” His response is indifferent, which makes me want to rip my hair out.
“Then what are you doing with her?” I press.
“What do you think?” He leans forward and squeezes the grips.
“The last thing Kayla needs is for you to sink your teeth into her.”
“She hasn’t complained about my mouth being on her yet.” He smirks darkly.
