Supercross

Chapter 7

David Slogan doesn't say a word as I enter his house. The house I used to play at when my father couldn't take me to certain races.

I walk into the living room and sit down in my favorite chair. Dave sits across from me.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dave asks.

"One of your racers, James Montgomery." I respond formally.

"How is the little bastard?" He asks.

"Cheating."

"I'd imagine with his reputation." Dave says leaning back in his chair.

"My racer-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Your racer?"

"Yes my racer. He can beat James in a fair race, but we all know James doesn't race fair as you say. I'd like you to train him."

"And why would I do that? What's in it for me?"

"You know I don't have money, but I do know you owed my father a favor. I guess since he's gone that favor goes down to me."

Dave sits there contemplating the idea, "who's your racer?"

"Matt Hunter."

He laughs, "How'd you manage that?"

"That's a story for another time. So, you'll do it?"

"Fine, but after this no more favors."

"No more favors." I agree.

I get back to the hotel and see Matt in my room watching the news. The top stories being Trump, Kanye West, and a murder. He switches to the local news which talks about the upcoming race.

"In other news Supercross racer James Montgomery says that he is determined to win for the third year in a row. Will he do it and set a record or will someone else take the gold?" says news anchor Tasha Harding.

"Why are you in my room?" I ask throwing my jacket on the bed.

"I came to ask you something and then you weren't here so I said to myself, 'why leave when there's a perfectly good bed and TV in here?'" He responds.

"Well, good news. David Slogan is willing to train you. Teach you his ways."

"How'd you manage that?"

"He owed my dad a favor." I say nonchalantly.

"But isn't your dad-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"Hence the word owed."

We sit there in an awkward silence until he says, "have you thought about Corey?" like he was talking about a different person.

"I don't know. I just can't risk it. All the publicity I'd get if someone found out who I was."

"I get it-" He begins, but I cut him off.

"No you don't get it. No one gets it. Your dad wasn't murdered and the media didn't reveal something about your dad. Your dad are still living and breathing."

He doesn't have anything to say to that. He looks like a fish out of water trying to come up with something to say. When he can't think of anything he just closes his mouth and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit I've caught on to.

"Just leave." I say.

He nods slowly walking out the door and before he leaves he says, "I'm sorry."

That night was when the dreams came back. I hadn't allowed anyone to know about my past and now I'm blindly opening up to people. I didn't want anyone to know in fear of the publicity... and the dreams.