I turn up the radio, and focus on the music instead of my own shit as we get closer to Nowra.
****
It’s a crisp morning, and I feel the chill right to my bones as Jones and I set up the Yamaha marquee.
“On time, I see,” Mac says, as we start unloading the truck.
“Hey, Mac,” I say, with a chin lift in his direction. He gives me a fatherly nod, but a smile pulls at his lips. Hopefully that means I’m working my way into his good books.
I give the bikes a good warm-up before practice, so I know they’re running in top form. The bikes pass scrutineering with no dramas—not that I was expecting any. They’re in pristine condition. Not a scratch on them.
Today, spirits are high. Over the course of the morning, Stone, Jones and Billy Boy ride well. Billy is really finding his groove. Living on a property and getting the opportunity to burn around on the bikes most days is totally working for his confidence and his fitness. He’s not so much the rookie anymore. He’s a definite contender.
I make sure I give the boys loads of encouragement, of course, in my own De Luca style. Promising the odd sexual favour here or there doesn’t hurt anyone. Thankfully they’re all as straight as a post, and none of them have ever tried to cash in. I think I’d rather die than smoke another man’s pole.
****
Halfway through the day, I swear I’m seeing things. Jerking off to thoughts of Suds last night is turning me bat-shit crazy. I swear I just saw her twin. Maybe I should try my luck with her and see how I go. Probably the closest I’ll ever get to sticking my dick in the real Suds.
I shake it off, and finish up replacing the broken clutch lever.
A wolf whistle screeches from behind me.
I turn to find the doppelgänger who’s not so doppelgängery after all.
She’s wearing tight-arse jeans teamed with burgundy Doc Martins. The outfit shows off those legs a damn sight better than the sweat pants she wears at home. Her snug white tank is guaranteed to give me a flash of hardened nipple with a whisper of incoming breeze. She’s dressed simply, yet she looks sexier than any MX pro hoe I’ve seen on track … or in my bed.
The curls of her long ponytail swish around her shoulder, stalling my speech. She looks me up and down, and can barely hold my scrutinising gaze. Is she thinking about my moans of pleasure last night? Did she get herself off? That slight blush to her cheeks tells me that I might just be on the money.
“De Loser,” she says, with an affirmative nod.
“Oh man, I love that you call him that,” Billy says, waving his finger at Suds as he walks past me.
“Don’t even think about repeating it, boy,” I warn him, with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.
He takes a few steps closer to her, and runs his gloved hand over his short brown hair. “I’d get my arse kicked into next week if I called him that,” Billy says, as he struts past her in his filthy bike gear. “He must like you.”
She fake laughs. I know this because it sounds forced as anything.
“Soap Suds,” I say, curt and to the point. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
“Ha ha, arsehole. I’m here to support April with her Cupid experiment.”
“Her what?”
“She’s set up Eevie’s mum with Mac.”
“You mean the short blonde woman with the impressive rack he was talking to earlier?”
“That’s what you noticed about her?”
“Hey, sorry, but I didn’t happen to catch her eye colour. I generally go with the features that speak the loudest.”
Suds takes a step closer, creating a weird tension between us. Did she just stick out her chest more?
“And if I was to ask what you noticed about me, what would you say?”
Is this a trick question? It doesn’t matter what I say here, I’ll be in trouble. “Judging by my most recent experience, I’d say you have a hell of a right arm. Dangerously good aim.”
“Be serious.”
“Babe, I am.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“And you have real purty green eyes, as green as the moss growing on those rocks over yonder there,” I tease, in the best southern American accent I can come up with. I probably sound like a fuckwit.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me today. I’d bet my life it’s a result of not enough sleep, sex and alcohol.
She huffs and her head falls back. With her eyes closed, the sunlight bounces off her flushed cheeks as she has a moment of silence.
“So, how’d they seem together?” She changes the subject.
“Mac and the tidy old bird? I dunno; they were talking and laughing. I’ve gotta say though, I had my suspicions as to whether he had teeth up until today, but this morning the guy was smiling like he’d been munching hash cookies for breakfast.”
A soft laugh escapes her mouth. “I’m glad to hear that … not the cookies part, more the smiling. Mac deserves to be happy.”
“Yeah. Even an old bloke like him deserves another chance to get his dick—”
“Stop!” she says, holding her flattened hand towards my face. “Don’t say it.” She purses her lips in warning.
“What, wet? You love the word wet. In fact, I bet you’re w—”
“Shut up.” She shakes her head, yet a smile teases at the corner of her lips. “So where’s April?” Again with the subject change. Let’s go back to talking about being wet.
“Your nympho friend is probably fucking Jones somewhere. Those two don’t have an off switch.”
“Huh. You’re so right.”
Who knew that monogamy was such a turn-on for some people? If you ask me, it’s fucking weird. I don’t understand it. Jones was the manwhore of motocross, and he earned that title, rightly so. April is a top chick, I’ve got a lot of time for her, but how did he know she was the one? The one that was gonna turn his world on its arse and have him blinded from every other woman?
I’m happy for him, anyway. Happy for April, too. Speaking of which …
“What are you girls doing later? We’re going to the pub for dinner once we’ve packed up.”
“Don’t know yet. I’m sure April will be wherever Jones is. I might just grab a pie or something and then go back to the hotel and get some study done.”
“That sounds boring as fuck. Surely you can give the books a rest for one night? Stay out.”
A tortured look flashes across her face. “I shouldn’t, I—”
“Come on, Suds. I’ll shout you a steak.”
If I bring her along, I’ll have someone to stop me from going overboard. I think I might be getting out of the bad books with Mac. I don’t need to go backwards. The last time I was in Nowra I ended up in the lock-up to dry out. I need to be on my game tomorrow, because we’ll be back in the factory stripping down the bikes again, and I’ll no doubt have a hundred calls to make chasing parts in the coming days, thanks to Stone’s bingle in the first round.
“Are you saying I’m too skinny for you?” she accuses.
“Just shut the fuck up and let me feed you a decent meal.”
She moves one hand to her hip and pushes it out to the side. “Then will you stop bitchin’?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, with a wink.
“In that case, I’ll be there. I’ve gotta see you trying your hardest not to whinge and whine.” She pokes out her tongue and then walks off towards April and Jones, who have just walked out of the toilet block together.
Horny bastard.
Lucky bastard.
****
After a long day on track, the beers go down well. I hold myself back from slipping drinks in in between shouts, which always brings me unstuck. Everyone is in high spirits, but they are taking it easy on the beers. Now I just need to do the same.
I sit next to Soph at dinner and watch as she devours her steak with pepper sauce, chunky chips and a pile of vegies. I was successful in convincing the kitchen to load up her plate. I’m glad they came through.
Suds and April together are classic. They’re so similar—tomboys, not girly-girls. Frankly, if I got on the wrong side of either of them, I would seriously fear for my life.