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//chapter fifty-five • rub sand in your wounds
THE KILDARE ENDURO was everything JJ had hyped it up to be. The Pogues rolled up to the event in the Twinkie, which was barely running after weeks of hard work at the shop. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement, the scent of gasoline mixing with dirt and anticipation. JJ had convinced them—well, most of them—that this was a good idea.
Andrew was less than thrilled about it, and Spencer stood next to him, arms crossed, her eyes scanning the crowd of competitors, who were equally eager to prove themselves.
"This is insane," Andrew muttered, shaking his head as he glanced around.
"Yes, it is," Spencer replied, "I can't count the amount of times I've nearly watched Johnny die on this track." Her blue eyes flicked around like she was looking for him.
Andrew had come to understand a lot of Pogue traditions, this was not one of them. JJ stood by his bike, adjusting the goggles perched on his forehead, a grin stretching wide across his face. "This is it, boys and girls. Our ticket back to the top."
His boyfriend gave him a skeptical look. "If you don't wipe out in the first five minutes."
JJ winked at him. "You just wait."
"Let's go, baby!" John B cheered as he came up behind JJ and shook him by the shoulders. "How are we feeling, champ?"
"Like I got this whole shot."
"Yeah?"
"No, I'm gonna win it this year. I know I am." JJ grinned, filled with way too much pride.
Whether or not John B believed him, he still hyped up his friend. "Yeah you are."
"Cleo, how we doin', girl?" JJ asked, pulling one arm to stretch as he turned back to the girl who was airing up the tires on his bike.
"Everything's all good, man," she answered. She patted the wheels as she stood up. "The girl, out."
"Alright."
They clapped hands in the hand shake only Pogues knew.
"Hey." Cleo warned, "Bring it home, little boy."
JJ grinned in response. "You know I will."
Cleo left, walking off through the sand to find Pope and John B went to follow after wishing JJ luck to leave the blond alone with his boyfriend, but Andrew wasn't focused on JJ. His eye had caught on something else when a whole lot of southsiders started cheering.
A familiar figure appeared, cutting through the throng like a fucking knife.
Like a gift from hell, Johnny O'Daire, the Kildare, Cut-side legend, stepped into view. He was still ridiculously tall and athletic, the embodiment of a seasoned racer. He laughed a clapped hands with several people, ever slut on the island shouting his fucking name. His reputation preceded him; four-time winner of the Kildare Enduro, and now here he was, ready to compete.
