Down & Dirty

by Ashley Johnson

  Fifteen minutes later I hear Nixon’s truck start up and pull out of my driveway. When the rumble of his engine disappears down the road, I burst into tears in the middle of my living room.

  We’re over and my heart is broken so badly all the glue in the world may not put it back together again.

  Chapter 27

  I’ve tried to keep myself busy since I broke up with Nixon three days ago. He hasn’t called or texted me and I found my key under the mat the next morning, signaling the end of us. I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t try to fight for our relationship at all after his explanation of our backyard date.

  Collin asked me to head over to the Black Bear track so I can stay on the good side of my sponsors and they see that I’ve been getting ready for the upcoming race being held a few hours south of us. He tells me that he has a meeting with one of my other sponsors but will meet me at the Black Bear track after he’s done.

  When I make it to the track Otis takes his normal spot of vigil in the back of my truck while I get all of my protective gear on. Right before I put on my helmet I see someone riding their bike toward me.

  Harlow takes her helmet off and smiles at me. I try to return the sentiment but I haven’t been feeling any scrap of happy vibes for three days.

  “Hey chickie what’s up?” she asks, her own smile slipping when she sees mine drop almost instantly.

  “Not too much, just here to show my face to the big guys. How’s the track shaping up today?” I mutter, trying to keep my mind on work and away from Nixon completely.

  “Uh, it’s the same as any other day Em. Are you okay?” she looks at me, squinting like she can see the answers in my eyes.

  “Yeah I’m cool, just a lot on my mind lately and before you ask, no I don’t feel like talking about it.”

  She looks down at the dirt with a smile on her face like she was going to do just that and I beat her to her intent.

  “Okay Emmie, but when you’re ready to talk you know I’m always here for you girl.”

  I’m so lucky to have Harlow as a friend. She really is what I need right now. I push away from my tailgate and give her a hug, thankful that she is here.

  “Thanks Harlow, you’re awesome. Now how about a friendly race between two girlfriends? I haven’t raced you in quite a while and now you have that enormous rock on your ring finger that is sure to slow you down,” I tease and hop onto my bike, smiling when she slams down on her kick start and revs the engine twice.

  We both line up at the drop gate, glad that one of the Black Bear workers has agreed to drop them for us, and wait.

  When the gates fall we both gun our throttles, Harlow edging out in front of me at the first single jump. Three laps into our eight lap race I pull ahead at the whoops and keep my hands gunned on the throttle through the rest of the track.

  Harlow inches up on me at the double jump so before I hit the edge of the jump I throttle harder, but when I attempt to let off it my throttle gets stuck and sends too much fuel to my engine. I tell myself that when I land this jump I need to pull the kill switch by my right calf to cut the power to my bike, but my landing is quite a bit rougher than I hoped it would be and I have to focus on straightening out my landing so that I don’t hurt myself, or worse Harlow.

  When I see in my peripheral vision that Harlow has hit the brakes on her bike, probably knowing that something is going on with my bike, I realize I don’t have time to flip the kill switch before I hit the wall and decide now is the time to bail before I really get hurt.

  I aim my bike at a large padded wall with no one around it and decide to bail off one side and pull the bike down with my dismount, hoping that it will avoid running into the wall and breaking into a thousand pieces.

  This time it works, luckily. Jack would have my ass if I’d broken this bike again.

  The bike is on its side about ten feet away from the padded wall, still running. When I find my feet after my dismount I run over to my bike which has the back wheel spinning like crazy at the fuel still pumping to my engine. I pull the kill switch, effectively cutting off all power and stare at the bike, glad that the only thing that looks wrong is a bent handlebar.

  “You alright Em?” I hear Harlow say as she runs toward me, along with four male riders that are practicing on the track today.

  I nod before I answer. My nerves are still a bit shot from the close encounter with the wall, but other than that I’m fine. “Yeah I’m cool. Damn throttle stuck and my landing was too rough to pull the kill as soon as I landed.” Harlow just nods at my explanation, probably having gone through the same problem at one point or another on her bike.

  I glance around at all the people standing around us, silently letting them know that I’m alright when a silhouette catches my eye. Idling on the top of a double jump is Nixon wearing his signature riding gear, hands clenching the handlebars.

  Other than the few seconds his presence holds my attention I don’t acknowledge that he’s there. I turn my attention back to Harlow and then go about walking my bike back to my truck so I can get some tools out and check the fuel lines for the problem.

  After I get the tools I need out of my truck Collin pulls up next to me and hops out of his fancy car, way too excited to notice the tears I’m trying to hold back. He needs to tone down the happiness before I deliver a swift kick to his shin.

  It’s been a shit day and I need him to act like his has been just as bad as mine.

  “Hey Em you won’t believe who I got you a photo shoot with,” Collin beams as he comes closer to me, petting Otis on the head a few times before turning his full attention to me.

  “What the hell happened to your bike?” he asks, further pissing me off even though he hasn’t done anything.

  I throw the pliers I’m holding into the dirt next to my foot and hang my head. Maybe I need to just drop the bike off at dad’s shop for Jack to look at it and head home to sulk by myself.

  I huff out a breath before answering Collin. “The throttle stuck and I crashed. Who did you get this shoot with Col?” I say, suddenly more than ready to leave because I can see Nixon’s truck across the lot over Collin’s left shoulder, so I know he’s still here.

  “Sports Today wants to do a four page spread with you and one other rider and also an interview with Charlie Zucker. This will put you in the spotlight for sure Em and also put a huge chunk of change in your pockets,” he chuckles at himself.

  “That’s great Collin. Thanks for setting that up,” I mumble, not really hearing anything he’s said because I’m planning my escape route in my head.

  Otis jumps out and takes a seat by Collin’s feet before I grab the bent handlebars and start pushing my bike up the wheel ramps to my truck bed.

  “Are you sure you’re okay Emmie? You aren’t acting like yourself. Did you get hurt on your bail?”

  “No, I’m fine. Just trying to figure out how I’m going to explain to Jack that I fucked up the bike, yet again.” Collin gives me a small chuckle at my excuse.

  “You know you are like a daughter to Jack. He’s known you since you were born and I highly doubt he would ever yell at you.”

  That’s so not true. Jack has yelled at me on many occasions, even in front of my dad. One time they tag teamed each other while they screamed at me for being so stupid on a jump after I broke my right leg in two places. I’m actually hoping that Jack is in a good mood today because after he sees what happened to the bike, he won’t be.

  After I get the bike secured into the back of my truck I jump down, avoiding eye contact with Collin.

  “Well, I need to go get this over with. Can you put the details of this photo thingy in my calendar and I’ll make sure I’m there for it?” I tell him over my shoulder as I open my truck door and wait for Otis to jump in before I haul myself up.

  “You got it. I need to go in and talk to a few people here but how about tonight you come over and have dinner with me and Jaycee. She’s been asking me to invite you over soon.”

&
nbsp; I nod. I could use all the company I can get these days. Sitting home alone to stew in my own feelings and memories sucks. “Call me and let me know what I can bring,” I tell him and crank my truck over.

  As I expected Jack was not happy about the bike. He yells at me about using the damn kill switch next time so he doesn’t have to keep fixing my damned bikes because I don’t pay attention. I hang my head and let him get it out without protest. Hell, maybe I need someone to yell at me so I can feel anything other than sad.

  After staying at the shop to help Jack fix the bike up, I head home and wash up to spend some time with society for a change.

  My life is sad.

  Chapter 28

  I make it to the field where the photo shoot is supposed to be done and see that we’re at a dirt track with what looks to be a large metal garage built about fifty feet away from it. I figured it would be something like a track, but I was hoping that this magazine would be doing something different, since it’s a men’s sports magazine.

  “Emmie Black?” I hear my name from a deep voice behind me. I turn to see a tall man with a head of loose blonde curls walking toward me. From a distance I think he could be cute, but as he gets closer to me I realize that this dude is freaking hot.

  He looks to be around six foot, with a great tan. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with some beer’s logo faded on the front of it and a pair of loose, tattered jeans that look like they could disintegrate with a medium gust of wind. The black Chucks on his feet complete the sexiness of this man.

  Wow.

  When he stops right in front of me he sticks his hand in my direction and smiles, showing off a set of straight, abnormally white teeth.

  “You must be Emmie. My name is Garrett Hendricks. I’m the photographer for today’s shoot and I just wanted to introduce myself before we got started,” he smiles.

  Holy shit, he’s super hot. I think my mouth opens and closes like a fish a few times before I blink furiously and realize that I need to say something to him.

  “It’s really nice to meet you Garrett, I’m Emmie,” I stutter out, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s already called me by my name twice.

  He chuckles and then steps toward me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and walking me toward a white canvas tent that is set up next to the garage while he tells me what will happen during this photo shoot.

  “So Emmie, I’m going to take some shots of you posing on the bike and then we’ll have you ride and maybe do a few tricks off of the jumps. I have another rider coming in about an hour to join you for some of the still photos, if that’s okay with you.”

  Holy mother, his eyes are a magnificent blue color, like the ocean off some tropical island. I’m sucked into his eyes and unfortunately missed every word he just said to me.

  He’s staring at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to say something, so I clear my throat and just figure I should agree.

  “Yeah, that sounds great.” I hope I’m agreeing to him taking me into that tent and having his way with me. I would totally agree to that.

  Good to see that my libido didn’t disappear with the break up.

  Garrett shoots me a bright smile and then stops at the opening to the tent.

  “Sounds good, Emmie. Why don’t you go into hair and makeup and we’ll start the shoot in about twenty minutes. Oh and remind me to get your number before the day ends. I have a friend that wants to make a motocross calendar and asked if he could get your info.”

  I nod at Garrett and then shuffle my way into the tent, instantly being tugged and pushed in different directions. One woman, around my age, with hair as tall as a twenty story building, is curling my hair and spraying massive amounts of product into it.

  A shorter man with the best eyebrow arches I’ve ever seen is standing in front of me applying makeup and telling me that I have the most flawless skin while another woman stands behind my chair holding up a tiny white tank top, black bra with matching lace thong, a black jumpsuit with my different sponsors logos on it, and a pair of hot pink riding boots.

  After I put on the wardrobe, I make my way out to Garrett and a group of people that are scattering around like they had ten cups of coffee in an hour.

  “Wow, you are gorgeous,” he beams when he spots me. I feel a slight blush creep up my neck at his words and shift my eyes away from him to try and hide it. Garrett holds his hand out to me and pulls me behind him toward the dirt track.

  “Okay sweetie, I’m going to have you pose straddled on the bike for a few shots with your full jumpsuit zipped up all the way up-“ I hear, but then my gaze zooms in on the way his light jeans ride low on his hips, filling out his ass perfectly. I can feel my head swaying side to side with the movement of his fantastic ass.

  “Sound good?” Garrett mutters over his shoulder. The silence around us breaks through my sleazy ogling session with his butt and I realize he stopped talking.

  He turns his body around so now my eyes are leveled with his crotch. I look down at my feet quickly, hoping he wasn’t thinking I was just having a staring contest with his junk.

  I start looking around me for something clever to say and my eyes lock onto the newer model Yamaha two stroke in front of me. Not my particular taste, but not a bad bike.

  I don’t realize that I haven’t answered Garrett until he gives my hand a slight squeeze. I’m searching my brain, trying to figure out what he told me the plan was for this shoot, but I keep coming up blank.

  Holy crap, it’s like being in high school and having the quarterback of the football team talking to me all over again.

  “Uh, yeah sure, sounds great,” I answer him, still not coming up with a lick of what he said to me. When he smiles and turns toward the bike, I feel my face pull into a slight grimace behind his back, hoping he didn’t just ask me to pose on this bike with a snake wrapped around my shoulders or sitting on a toilet.

  “Okay, so straddle the bike and we’ll get all set up,” Garrett smiles and then turns to run back to his camera about ten yards away.

  The photo shoot starts out well. I’ve gone from straddling the bike in a full jumpsuit to unzipping the top of my suit and having my white tank top showing. Then they ask me to lose the suit all together and straddle the bike in the tank, my black panties and my boots. Nothing I can’t handle.

  “Okay Emmie, now lose the top and bra and lay with your back on the seat,” Garrett instructs.

  Oh shit, this must be what he was telling me to do when I was zoned out while staring at his ass. I shrug and start to strip off my top. I’m okay with this, just as long as Collin tells my dad and Jack to never look at this issue I’ll be okay.

  I’m lying across the back of the bike, one arm covering my breasts and the other tangled in my hair.

  “Okay babe, can you remove your hand from across your-“ Garrett can’t finish his sentence over the shouting by the tent.

  “What the fuck!” a deep male voice booms behind us.

  I lift my head off the seat so I can get a better view of who is yelling when I see Nixon storming across the dirt, heading directly for me.

  When he reaches me, he pulls me off the seat and wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling my front into his chest, effectively covering my bare breasts.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Emmie?” Nixon growls in my hair. I furrow my brow and wonder why the hell he even cares.

  “What’s it to you, Nixon? We aren’t together so you can’t tell me what the fuck to do, remember?”

  His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer to his chest where I get a whiff of motorcycle exhaust and light cologne. I close my eyes for just a second, remembering how good it feels to be in his arms before I hear Garrett coming up behind us.

  “Nixon, so glad you finally made it. I just have a few more shots I want to take of Emmie alone on the bike, so why don’t you go put your jumpsuit on and I’ll have you join her in a second,” Garrett tells him and turns to walk back to the spot
where his tripod is sitting, like it’s no big deal.

  “How about not, ass jack. I’m not going to let you take any more pictures of Emmie without a shirt on,” Nixon growls and turns my body further away from the growing number of on lookers.

  “Excuse me?” Garrett asks, turning back around to see if Nixon is joking with him or not.

  Then the enormity of Nixon’s words hits me. He has no claim on me. I actually tried to make this thing public knowledge and Nixon didn’t want anything to do with it, or monogamy, so he doesn’t get a freaking say in what I do from here on out.

  I push on Nixon’s chest and simultaneously take a step back, moving away from his grasp.

  “Nixon, go get your jumpsuit on and let me finish this part of my shoot so I can be done here.”

  His eyes narrow at me while he cocks his head to the side, inspecting my face.

  “What the fuck, Emmie? You want the world to see your tits spread across the pages of a smut mag?”

  “Why do you care, Nixon?” I whisper, hoping for an answer. Hoping he’ll tell me that I mean enough to him to let others know as well.

  Nixon stares at me for a few more seconds before he grits his teeth and turns toward the tent. I feel my body deflate. I was hoping he would say something, anything to show me that he felt more. I was wrong.

  I bite down on my lower lip hard to stop the tears that have welled up in my eyes from falling down my cheeks and turn back to the bike. I’m ready to get this shoot over with so I can go home and ride out my frustrations on the track in my backyard in peace.

  After I finish up my solo shoot and put my top back on, Garrett has Nixon come over to the bike and sit behind me. He positions Nixon’s arms around my waist while I’m holding onto the handlebars and steps back behind the camera, telling us to act like we crave each other.

  It takes us both a few seconds to dissolve into each other, but when we do it’s like nothing has changed between us.