Page 12 of Off the Mark
Like usual, a rush of intense affection paired with jagged worry filled me. I blew out a breath then ducked into a shaded alley to accept the call. He appeared on the screen—long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, a craggy face with a handful of scars, tattoos peeking out from the collar of his T-shirt.
“Charlie honey? It’s me, your dad,” he said, brow furrowed as he poked at the screen.
I grinned despite my worry. “Dad, I know. You’re on video right now. I can see you. Can you see me?”
I waved and he brightened.
“Oh, there you are. Hiya, honey.”
“Is everything okay? How are Penny and the pups?”
He twisted around and indicated the back doors of the ranch-style house where I’d grown up in a woodsy, rural town called Sweetwater, near Syracuse. He’d bought it for the extra land, which he’d turned into a practice racing track. And during the long, snowy winters, we swapped out our dirt bikes for snowmobiles.
“Penny’s out back in the garden. Did I tell you she’s growing watermelons?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Does she know it’s your favorite food?”
In the background, I heard a door bang, and then my father’s girlfriend yelled, “’Course I knew, he only mentions it eighteen fucking times a day.”
He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Guess she knew after all.”
The original bad boy of motocross had softened considerably since his retirement. The crash that had permanently taken him out of the sport had been the first major life adjustment. For both of us. But when he met Penny a few years back at a weekend flea market, the transformation was complete.
Most of his voicemails now were about the PBS documentaries they regularly enjoyed. And most of his stories were about their rescue dogs, Dexter and Bruno.
“So did the lawyer I recommended get in touch with you?” I asked carefully.
Dad passed a hand through his hair and shrugged. The look on his face had my heart sinking to the cracked sidewalk. “She was very smart and, uh, if we can afford her, she said she can help. But the eviction notice is, you know, legally binding or whatever. I’ve got three months to make up the cash or get the hell out.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, toeing the ground so he wouldn’t see that I wanted to straight up cry. “At least we know what we’re working with. Timeline, total amount, that sort of thing. Better to know what we’re up against, right, Dad?”
“Charlie…” he started, “honey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got so behind on my payments. I was teaching those riding lessons but the training center in Syracuse shut down. And Penny helps as much as she can, but she’s also got sons and grandkids—”
“She has a lot of bills of her own. I get it.” I sniffed, met his eyes, and plastered a shiny smile on my face. “Most people are struggling to pay one mortgage, let alone the two you’ve got on that place. It’s not like the motocross association has some stellar pension plan for retired riders.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, or, you know,anypension plan. Or a union. It’s always been one race at a time, living purse-to-purse.”
The full weight of my current financial nightmare smacked me across the face. Even with the little money I’d saved since signing with Bettencourt, I couldn’t cover what my dad owedandpay for the costs of all my recent traveling for races.
Races I’d been losing.
What I needed was a big, fat purse of winnings. And to not get dumped by my sponsor.
Going out to the bars that night had been sostupid.
“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re about to puke on the sidewalk.”
“Oh yeah, I’m all good,” I hedged. “But we gotta figure out how to save the house because you getting evicted would be a mega bummer. You and Penny scrounge up what you can, and I’ll cover the rest, okay?”
His smile was part relief, part guilt. “You’re always bailing me out, Charlie. I hate that I’m constantly askin’ you—”
“You and I take care of each other.” Cutting him off meant I wouldn’t be at risk of crying again. “We always have and always will. We’re all we’ve got.”
He coughed into his fist and nodded. “I saw you had a pretty wild night in Philly. Did you and your friends have fun?”
I shoved my bangs to the side. “Yes and no. Shots were fun. But now I’m in the doghouse with Bettencourt. Tequila isn’t part of a family-friendly image, I guess.”
He snorted. “All those rules they force on you are bullshit. People think because you’ve got their name on your gear that they own you or something.”
