Spike (6 page)

I’m covered in dust, dripping with sweat beneath my armour, and hot as a motherfucker, but they wanna to talk to me. I take off my helmet and run my fingers through my sweaty hair that’s stuck to the side of my face. I try and tame it a bit as a young guy with a brown buzz-cut fusses about with a microphone, and orders the cameraman in place. Someone hands me a Yamaha cap and I slip it on.

“We’re here with Aidan Stone, or Maverick, as some of you know him, after he smashed the field today.”

Cheers echo throughout the crowd.

“Thanks, great to be here in Appin,” I say as I hold up my hand to the crowd in thanks.

“You’re in good form, Stone. A rocky start, but after a couple of laps you held onto the lead. Today you had the best lap in the Pro Open, taking the defending champion by surprise. It seems you’re the one to watch this season.”

“Thanks, mate. Yeah, it’s great to reward the team with a win. We’re at a turning point in the season, so I knew I had to give it everything. I was lucky to recover from that start.”

“You seem to perform well under pressure.”

“I had plenty of inspiration here today. Thanks to the fans for coming out, it’s been a big day and we appreciate your support for motocross.”

“Anyone you want to shout out to?”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks to the team’s major sponsors, Yamaha, Dunlop and Renthal, our support crew and my teammates. They make a win like this possible. And a big thanks to my family and my girlfriend, Eevie. Their support makes all the difference.”

“And what have you got to say about some of the U.S. riders coming across later in the season?”

“I’d say they need to bring their A-games, ‘cause us Aussie boys know how to churn up the dirt.”

More cheers from the crowd. My heart races in my chest, and I swallow a lump in my throat. I can’t believe they’re cheering for me. Hell, I’m certainly getting used to it.

“Congratulations again, Stone, look forward to watching you next round,” he says, patting me on the back.

“Cheers, mate.”

Now. Where’s my baby girl?

I look over to the side where I left Eevie with some of the support crew. She’s grinning like Mum used to when I started riding.
Proud.
And it makes my heart melt. I’m so stoked she’s here.

Eevie holds her hands above her head and claps. I flash her the dirtiest, sexiest smile I can muster. I’m a winner, in more ways than one.

She shakes her head from side to side and laughs, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. You made the bet, baby, and tomorrow I’m reaping the rewards.

Eevie links her hands around my neck, and kisses me loudly on the lips. “You were amazing!” she says. Her eyes glisten under the bright lights, and she sniffs.
Aw, she’s all emotional.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m so glad I got to see you in action. You rock.” She smiles like a loon. I haven’t seen her grin this brightly in a while. Her studies have really kept her occupied.

I wink at her. “Are you okay to hang ‘round here for a while? They’ll have the presentation shortly and after I pack up, we’ll go check into the hotel.”

“Sure. I bought my iPad, so I’ll sit over there and do a bit of work until you’re done.”

“Sweet. I won’t be long.”

****

When I’m up on the podium, my heart beats frantically. There’s a hell of a lot of people staring at me and cheering. When I learnt to ride when I was four, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine myself here. And this is no dream. I
am
here.

We have the mandatory shots with the MX girls, whose outfits are getting skankier as the season progresses. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have cared. I would have said
the less clothing, the better
, but now I have the love of my life; I couldn’t care less. They can congratulate me in a hessian sack for all I care.

As I go to exit the podium, the tall blonde slips a folded piece of paper in my hand.

“Call me,” she coos.

Ah, fuck no. She’s giving me her number? I barely even looked at her, and she’s ready to fuck me? Not a chance, love.

Faking a smile, I get the fuck off the podium. I screw up the paper and drop it in the dirt as if it’s burning a hole in my hand.

Sometimes those girls don’t know when to quit.

****

In a whirlwind, we pack up everything and check into the hotel in Campbelltown, which the sponsors have organised for us. I wonder if they went to the extra trouble knowing I was bringing Eevie along. Do all sponsors take care of their guys like this? I’m still getting used to being looked after, especially after having to fund my own racing career for so long.

Walking into the hotel room, the commanding king-sized bed draws my eye. I can’t wait to get Eevie sprawled out and naked, but unfortunately, there’s no time for that now. Hopefully I can manage to hold a conversation tonight without thinking about what I wanna do to her, and what she’s gonna do to me.

I jump in the shower first, and quickly soap up. No time to stand under the heat, soaking it in for a good ten minutes like I usually do. Eevie joins me after a few minutes, her hair piled on top of her head in a bun. She washes some dirt from around my neck that I obviously missed.

“Thanks, baby. I’d better get dressed to stop myself from burying my cock in you.”

“Aidan!” she says and shakes her head. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing you know.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t be late tonight.”

“We won’t be. Just think about how good it’ll be later.”

“Mmm,” I mumble as I dry myself.
Bring it on, already.

I spray on some deodorant and brush my teeth.

“You know, I’m already wet,” Eevie says, and chuckles quietly to herself behind the shower screen.
She knows exactly how to weaken me.

“No shit. You’re in the shower.”

“Yeah, but I’m
two
kinds of wet.”

“You can stop talking now,” I warn as I walk out of the room so her sexy taunts don’t get me more worked up than I already am.

I pull on some boxer briefs and a pair of jeans, trying to will my cock to soften.
Cold shower, Aidan. Ice-cold shower.
Slowly I start to gain some kind of control. I throw on a white long-sleeve V-neck jumper, and catch my reflection in the wall mirror. I run my fingers through my hair so it looks half respectable.

I resist the urge to watch Eevie get dressed, otherwise we’ll be late, and I can’t do that to the sponsors, especially after rewarding them with a win. They’ll be expecting me on time.

Without too much fuss, Eevie is dressed and ready to go five minutes after me. Thank fuck she’s not a princess, needing to dedicate an entire evening before being able to go out. She looks beautiful with or without the makeup.

“Let’s go,” I say, taking Eevie’s hand in mine.

We take a cab from out front down the road to The Bradbury. I turn on my phone and flick through the messages. There’s a text from Rob:

Eevie told me the good news, congrats buddy.
Next beers after work are on me

And one from Mum:

So proud of you, sweetheart, hope you and
Eevie have a nice weekend away xox

How did she know Eevie was with me? I haven’t spoken to her for a couple of weeks. I’d better call her when we get back so she doesn’t get all pissy at me for not ringing her.

“Have you been making calls today?” I ask, raising a suspecting eyebrow at Eevie.

She shrugs, and a beaming smile spreads across her beautiful face. “I was busting. I had to tell someone.”

“Thanks, babe.” Way to make a man feel on top of the world. I think I’ve just landed the sexiest groupie ever.

The cab pulls up out front. “I’ll get this,” Eevie says, handing the driver a note.

“No, let me,” I say, but the driver is quick to take the money.
Dickhead.
I shake my head, but all she does is smile. This thing she has about paying her own way drives me fucking nuts sometimes, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.

I get out and open the cab door for her. She steps out in a pair of black skin-tight jeans, with black boots to her knees. She’s rocking a tight, white tank top, with a short, black leather jacket, her soft brown hair falling in waves around her tits
—
just enough flesh to draw my eye.
Jesus
. She’s not teasing; I just know what’s underneath … all too well. Lucky she’s out with me. Otherwise, she’d be fending them off. I’ll have to keep her close, because some of these guys on tour are a walking hard-on.

At least the sponsors have taste. This place is not the regular dive we have to put up with in some of the more remote locations we travel to. Eyes from around the crowded room follow us as, hand in hand, Eevie and I make our way to the bar. I don’t know how many back-slaps and eyebrow-raises I’ve gotten since I walked in. I don’t think the smile has come off my face since I crossed the finish line, and I don’t think it’ll disappear anytime soon.

Today, I feel like a king with a convincing win under my belt, and the beauty on my arm is the envy of most of the guys here. Life can’t get any better.

I introduce Eevie around. She shakes hands like she means it, holds her own in conversation, and gets the occasional laugh out of guys I didn’t think had a sense of humour. She must’ve been taking note of some of the ins and outs of motocross, having the balls to ask some interesting questions.

Take note, people: funny, intelligent woman with the guts and looks to match. That confidence is heartbreak material. They’re practically drooling over her. It’s almost pathetic. If they thought they had half a chance, they’d be down on their knees in a millisecond begging for a shot.

Boys, it ain’t gonna happen. Every delectable inch of her is mine, including her heart.

Talking with some of the support crew, Jones edges his way into the conversation, standing a little close to Eevie for my liking. He puffs out his chest, and hooks his thumbs through the front loops of his jeans. Blonde hair and a baby face, he’s a pretty boy.
A mummy’s boy
. From the way he carries on, he probably got everything he ever wanted as a kid, and had all the latest gear. Mum could barely afford to buy my jerseys, and when she did, I wore them until I outgrew them. I had no choice but to make them last. Last round Jones threw a tantrum like a three year old over something stupid. He got what he wanted, though.
Disgusting
. Not that I give a shit where he’s come from; at least I know I don’t carry on like a fucking twit.

My eyes are on Jones, and he knows it. Damn it, if he doesn’t like pushing my buttons, and having Eevie here he’s gonna do anything he can to push. If he weren’t on my team I’d barely give him the time of day. He’d be half an alright bloke if he wasn’t so self-absorbed.

He acts like he’s engrossed in what Eevie’s talking about, but his eyes travel down her chest, and even lower, as if he’s trying to rip her clothes off purely with the power of his mind. It heats my blood more than it should.

“When you’re ready for a real man, Eevie, come knockin’ on my door,” Jones says. His eyes dart in my direction before resting back on Eevie’s tits.
Fucking
douchebag.

Eevie frowns, and purses her glossy lips. “Sorry, I don’t understand. If I’m ready for a
real
man, why would I knock on
your
door? Wouldn’t I just go home?” She bats those long lashes.
That’s my girl.

Everybody erupts into a fit of laughter, me louder than most. Jones shakes his head, and playfully punches me in the arm. “You’re killin’ me, Aidan. You win today, and I hate you for it, and now your woman’s gonna break my heart,” he says, faking a southern American accent. He clutches his chest as if wounded, and winks at Eevie.

I take a long swig of my beer. “Life’s a bitch, Jones.”
Now fuck off.

“Excuse me, boys. I’ll be back,” Eevie says as she slips her arms around my waist. She leans up and whispers in my ear. “Just going to the ladies. Can you get me another drink?”

“Of course,” I say, and she walks off into the crowd. None of these pricks better follow her. My eyes track her as she weaves her way through to the bathroom door.

I turn back to the guys, catching Jones eyeballing in Eevie’s direction. He lets out a low whistle. “Fuck me, Stone, where’d you find that sweet pussy? What I’d give to spread those long legs and —”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Jones,” I bark before he gets the chance to finish. I glare at him, wishing he were a bloodied mess on the floor. He wouldn’t be so pretty then.

“Relax, mate,” he says and chuckles.
You and me aren’t mates, and won’t ever be
. Not the way you’re talking about my girl.

“Talk like that about her again, and you won’t be fit to ride next round. I don’t care if you are my fuckin’ teammate.”

Jones holds up his hands in defence. “Whatever.” He turns to walk away, but swings his head back towards me. “I’m not adverse to sharing, you know. We could tag team,” he chips in as he struts over towards two girls near the pool table. They move in close, one slipping her arm around his waist, the other leaning back against the pool table pushing her tits out towards him.

I should fucking deck him for what he said, but I don’t want his bullshit to tarnish the win. Even so, that’s the last time he’ll fuck with me tonight before my fist pummels his face. He won’t get another warning I hope he picks up something nasty from one of those pro hoes and his dick falls off. He wouldn’t be so cocky then.

“Hey, boy. Good ride today,” Mac, the team manager, says proudly, slapping me on the back. He’s decked himself in a new pair of jeans and a checked shirt. He scrubs up alright, for an old fella.

I can’t stop the wide smile splitting my face. He’s really taken me under his wing. “Thanks, Mac. It’s a pretty good feelin’, I tell ya.”