Coop didn’t understand their humor entirely, but they seemed like great friends, and he wouldn’t get between that for anything. He relaxed and they spent time hanging out at the pit. Coop explained the bike setup and the track, talking about his expectations for the race. He felt smug as he showed off. Thankfully, Kevin and Brett didn’t give him a hard time about it. In fact, they didn’t say much at all. They were unusually quiet. Coop normally didn’t have people around, except Vick, who did not count as people. So maybe they weren’t sure how to take it. He hoped holding Rick’s hand didn’t make them uncomfortable.
Then, he was called for the first heat race, and Brett pulled Coop aside. “This race means a lot. To all of us. You need a good gate pick, so focus on the dirt. Not the boy. Got it?”
“Oh.” Coop understood now. They were afraid Coop was going to fuck up because Rick was here. “Hey. I’m cool. Not a chance of blowing it.”
“Really? Because I heard you smarted off to Westrum earlier.”
“Yeah? Well, I always smart off to Westrum. He’s a prick. And if I got under his skin, good. I’m going to beat him on the track.”
“He’s in your heat.” Brett gave him that look. The one Coop thought of as hisparent glare. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Is winning stupid?” Coop laughed like it was a joke, but he didn’t take it that way. He wasn’t going to blow his ride for anything. “Seriously. Relax, Brett. I’ve got this.”
Brett muttered under his breath as he turned away. It sounded a lot like, “I hope so.” But he wasn’t going to pry into it, though. He had to go line up.
He kissed Rick. Then got on the bike. Kevin got on behind him, and they headed out to the starting gate.
Westrum lined up three positions to his left on the inside. It could be a better line. He’d look for that on their sight lap. Getting a good start was critical, but this race was going to be won on the corners. When they were signaled, he rode out slowly, watching Westrum as much as the track. He was Coop’s main competition in this heat. The other racers weren’t in the chase for a podium position and frankly weren’t great. In fact, many of them would end up out after crashing. But Coop’s claim to fame thus far had been avoiding those tangles. Winners stayed upright on the bike.
He finished the lap, feeling like he had a good idea of the changes in the track from qualifying earlier in the day, and lined up in his preferred spot. The top two racers would go straight to the main event, while third through eighth would go to a semi-round. He was going to win. Fuck a semi-round.
The gate dropped. The racers took off. Coop and Westrum were side by side until the track veered left. Westrum was on the inside, which should have given him the advantage, but not in this case. Coop was faster and went around him and was well in the lead by the time they hit the first corner. He put his foot out as he rounded it, then he tripled over the next set of jumps. When he went around that next corner where the track doubled back, he saw Westrum on the part of the track Coop had already passed, as Westrum pushed into the corner. The lead wasn’t big enough to not stay on it.
When Coop came around for the second lap, he had to slow down. There were still downed riders on the track, apparentlyfrom a wreck that had happened behind him off the gates. He maneuvered around it and kept going. That was the key to this race—keep going and hit those corners hard. Two more laps to go.
The next lap went smoothly from jump to jump through the corners to powering over the whoops. There wasn’t a challenge from Westrum. He couldn’t keep up. Coop was super comfortable on the bike, and it was purring like a beast. And Rick was watching. Coop couldn’t ask for much more than this, except for the main to go this well.
He took first, throwing his fist in the air as he flew over the last jump. Then he slowed down and circled off the track. He looked back to see Westrum coming in behind him. The man pulled up side by side and stuck his fist out for Coop to bump. Nope. Not happening. He smacked Westrum’s hand. Coop was being a dick, but that was part of his persona on the tracks. He didn’t take shit, and the other racers were not his friends. He didn’t even cut any slack for his teammate, Ryder Hannah, who was on the 250 team.
“Fuck you, Lucas,” Westrum snarled. “Get over yourself, man.”
Coop flipped him off, then moved to the podium area for a quick interview. The media always wanted the top two racers to chat. He thanked his team and said he felt great out there, hoping to do well in the main event. Then he made his way back to the pit with Kevin riding behind him. He was sure Kevin had seen the interaction with Westrum, but he didn’t care. If they gave him a hard time, so be it. Coop wasn’t going to change. They knew he was an asshole when they signed him.
After getting off the bike, he let Kevin take it. Brett patted his shoulder. “Good ride. How’s the bike?”
“Oh man, it’s sweet.” Coop leaned around Brett, directing his comment to Kevin. “Don’t change a thing. It’s perfect.” Kevin answered with a curt nod. He was a man of few words.
“Coop!” Rick called, running up to the pit. “You were intense!”
Before he knew what happened, Coop had his arms full of Rick. He smelled delicious, minty with a hint of ocean water. It was a different scent than he’d worn before, but Coop liked it and couldn’t wait to get more of that later in his hotel room. Rick had booked a separate room with Drew, and well, Drew could have it all to himself, because Rick needed to be in Coop’s bed all night.
“Break it up.” Brett started telling him what to do, as usual. “You need to recover, rest, and grab something to eat."
“You got it, boss.” Coop squeezed Rick a little. “I’m free until the first heat race.”
Food was first. Coop needed his energy for the main events. The team had a mini-fridge plugged in that had a fruit bowl and yogurt. He needed light but energy and protein. He grabbed his fixings out and sat in one of the chairs, pulling up another for Rick. “Sit here. Are you hungry?”
“Nah. We ate this morning. I’m good. You do your thing.”
The rest of the day was about racing. Watching the other heats, and then doing some simple calisthenics to get warmed up for the main. And Rick was by Coop’s side the whole time. Drew flitted in and out and occupied himself. Coop noticed he spent a lot of time on his phone. Maybe he had someone too, but as usual, Coop was a jerk, and he did not care one damn bit. He only cared that Rick was with him.
The first main event was insane. The track girl dropped the 30-second board, and they were off. But this race had all the big guys in it, including the red and white one plate racer, JackBenson. And right behind him was Bishop who was gunning for Jack. Though there weren’t enough points at the end of the day to catch Jack. There was more at play. Like ego. Coop understood that all too well, and his response was to stay right on Bishop’s back tire. Until.
Halfway through the race, Coop made his move. He might pass Bishop clean, but chances were one of them was going to go down. It was a risk, but Coop had to take it. He cut left and turned into Bishop around the corner, then straightened and gunned it. He took a quick look back. It appeared that Bishop ran up into the Tuff Blocks but pulled out without a major incident. Good for him. Bad for Coop. Now he was going to be pissed and want revenge. He had to catch Cooper first, and Coop had no intention of letting that happen. He could see Benson ahead of him and made up his mind to catch the other racer. He needed first-place points. Chances were Benson might let him go ahead, knowing it would put extra points between Benson and Adam Cannon, the racer in second for points. On the other hand, Benson didn’t need those extra points, and no one on this dirt wanted anything but first. Coop had to decide the worth of going for it. He didn’t think long. He wanted first. Always.
Coop could admit it when in intense moments like this. Yep, he was spoiled. He was used to getting what he wanted. And not going for it wasn’t something he could ever do. Even if he wrecked and lost, he couldn’t face his reflection if he didn’t try, didn’t give it his all. He wanted first place. He was going to get it or go down in a flaming crash as he tried.
After two more laps, they were down to the white flag, signifying the last lap. Coop was on Benson’s ass. Without thinking, he went for it. Around the next corner, his best spot on the track, he pulled the same move as before, cutting into Benson’s line, but Benson wasn’t having it. Pushing back, theyconnected, side by side, like bumper fucking cars. Coop had raced on the streets long enough to know how to deal with this, though. He stood on his foot pegs and leaned forward to go over the next jump, and landed right in Benson’s line, practically on top of him. Benson’s front tire nicked Coop’s back tire, sending Benson spiraling, but Coop pulled away with only an acceptable amount of tire skid. He straightened the bike, not looking back. He didn’t give a fuck what happened behind him. He saw the finish line. First.
