Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

10. Phone Call

"Took you long enough," said Eileen as Ryder leaned back on the bed, his phone to his ear. "Why haven't you been returning my calls and messages?"

"WiFi's shoddy," he replied.

"Ryder..."

"I've been busy, Mom," he bit out, and he could have sworn he heard her clench her jaw. She wasn't big on mouthy teenagers. He played with his fingers nervously. "For starters, I got a job."

"You did?" Eileen asked, intrigued. "That's interesting. How did that happen?"

"Let's just say it wasn't much up to me. These folks out here are pretty damn pushy. I couldn't exactly worm my way out of it."

His mother chuckled. "And where, pray tell, is this job of yours?"

"The local cafe place. Beans n' Stuff."

"Charlotte's place?" she exclaimed, intrigued. "I had no idea that place even still existed! It was just supposed to be some sort of business experiment Charlie was messing around with."

"It's a pretty successful experiment if you ask me," he said, putting his mother on speaker so he could keep going through his phone. He scrolled through Facebook, liking and commenting on all the stuff his former schoolmates had tagged him in. Since everything had happened, he'd kept a fairly low social media presence, but recently, Drew had been pushing him to move on.

Drew Ferguson was one of Ryder's oldest friends, an African-American typically characterized by his trademark natural ponytail and Adidas sneakers. He was one of the few that had stuck by Ryder through everything, and his greatest asset outside of his family.

Family.

The word made Ryder laugh mirthlessly.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

"I hear you. So what's this job all about?"

"You know. Barista, waiter, whatever they need."

"I didn't think you'd be into that kind of stuff. What are you up to?"

Ryder shrugged instinctively even though he knew Eileen couldn't see him.

"I'm just a kid trying to make an honest living. The way things are looking, I'm gonna need all the cash I can get."

"That reminds me. I found some stuff for you online, local schools and programs-"

"Mama, don't," Ryder cut her off. "I love you, and I appreciate what you're tryna do for me, but there's no way I'm getting into any college. Local, out of state, nothing." He sighed. "Not with my record."

"Oh, Ryder," his mother pleaded. "You can't just give up. You were waiting on a big break for years, and then you threw it away. These programs could help you get back on track. Please," she implored her son. "Just think about it, okay? Don't give up on the chance to get your head back in the game."

Ryder sighed heavily.

"Everything's different, Mama. There's no going back. I go back to Chicago, I'm a star who fell from grace. Here, I'm the long-lost bastard son of a no-good illegal immigrant. That's it."

Ryder propped himself in the windowsill, watching the branches of the huge oak in the orchard move stiffly in the nonexistent breeze. The other side of the line went quiet.

"Mama," he said. "Why didn't you ever tell us about these people?"

Eileen didn't have to think hard to figure out that Ryder was asking about his newfound relatives.