Ride: A Driven World Novel

by Heather Guimond

  “Aw, yeah!” he took off for the house, accidentally impressing himself with a major skid mark in the driveway. I jogged up to meet him, giving him simple but firm instructions on the proper care of his new bike.

  “Remember, if you want to ride motorbikes, you need to start out right. These aren’t typical toys.”

  “I promise, Finn. Thank you so much!” Corey exclaimed as he threw himself at me, his skinny little arms wrapping around my thighs and hugging me tightly. I lifted him up, hiking him on my hip as we entered the house. It felt damned good to be someone’s big brother.

  “Let’s go wash up. Then we’ll see who can eat more of Rylee’s dinner. I hate to break it to you, but you’re going down, little man.” I said, with another ruffle of his hair as I carried him inside. My heart hadn’t felt so full since I met Kenni, but being back at The House, I was reminded of all the love and warmth I’d found here. I’d been a beaten, scared, guilty sixteen-year-old boy. Who knew someone like me could have found the love he needed at that age in a group home? It’s why I’d always donate my time, energy, and money to Corporate Cares. They literally changed my life, Rylee especially. It seemed she was still transforming me, judging by the sense of well-being I felt just holding Corey on my hip. I shook my head with a chuckle, thinking I was going soft.

  ***

  It was nearly eight before I left the house after a lengthy dinner, where Corey edged just ahead of me with three and a quarter scoops of Rylee’s gooey casserole. I was beyond stuffed with my three scoops, but of course, she’d over-served me. Corey’s little chest puffed with pride as I conceded victory to him. Then he grew another two feet when I led all the boys from the house outside to watch me ride my race bike up and down the street, doing wheelie after wheelie.

  When I finally made it back home, my mobile phone rang just as I came through the door. Glancing at the screen as I dropped my helmet on the hall table, I saw Kenni calling. I stabbed at the screen quickly, making my way to the living room.

  “Hey, you,” I growled into the phone. I’d gone all day without hearing from her and was hungry for any bit of her I could get. We’d passed the week trading text messages and having gif wars, culminating each day with a short bedtime phone call. I could have stayed up all night, but she was worried Matt would overhear us talking and cause problems neither of us needed. “Where have you been all day?”

  “Hi.” Kenni’s soft voice floated into my ear like the sweetest melody. I rolled my eyes at the sound of my own voice in my ears but immediately reengaged.

  “I’m glad you called early. I missed you.” I flopped on my sofa, leaning my head against the back. “It was a good day, but it was a long one. How was yours?”

  “It was long as well, but it wasn’t so good. Listen, I don’t know how to ask this, so I’m just going to get to the point. Do you still want me to work for you?”

  You could have knocked me over with a feather. A movie montage immediately started running through my mind of all the ways I could be closer to Kenni. She’d be coming from Arizona, so she’d need a place to stay…

  “Are you serious? Hells, yeah, I do,” I replied, sitting up, alert once more. “When?”

  “As soon as you can have me. I need a paying gig, and I need it yesterday.” The tension in her voice put me on high alert.

  “Are you in trouble, Kenni? Do you need a loan?”

  “No!” Kenni exclaimed almost before the offer was out of my mouth. “I mean, no, thank you. I just need to get out and do some freelancing... give Matt some space and help improve our circumstances a little more.”

  “Consider yourself hired. Do you need a place to stay?”

  “Yeah, I do. If you have any connections or know anyone who needs a roommate, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to let you stay with anyone but me. If it turns out we don’t get along on a twenty-four-seven basis, we’ll come up with other arrangements,” I said, fingers crossed as I lied my ass off. Once Kenni Michaels was in my house—in my bed—she wasn’t going anywhere, even if I ultimately had to cuff her to my wrist.

  “I can get a ride on a Greyhound that will put me in Los Angeles at six tomorrow night,” she said, her voice quieting toward the end, clueing me in she was feeling unsure of herself.

  “I’m not letting you ride a filthy bus,” I said, shaking my head, though I’d ridden Greyhound buses across the country when I left New Jersey and knew they weren’t all that bad. I just didn’t want to wait for her to deliver herself to me. “Let me take a nap for a couple hours. I’ll get on the road around midnight and be at your place by the time you have coffee ready for me when you wake.”

  “God, you’re so smug,” she said, chuckling despite herself. “You really don’t need to drive all the way out here, Finn.”

  “Kenni, if it gets you by my side that much faster, I’ll leave right now.”

  “Fine, fine! I’ll expect you at seven. Bring bagels,” she commanded, quickly changing her tune. But then, I couldn’t deny her anything.

  “I’ll see you right at seven, ma’am. With bagels.”

  “Thanks, Finn.” Her husky whisper almost made me shiver.

  “You never need to thank me for taking care of you, Kenni.” My own whisper caught me off guard, so I hastily cleared my throat and spoke louder. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. See you bright and early.”

  I stabbed the phone off and flopped once more against the sofa back. Where the hell did that tenderness come from? I wasn’t an asshole, but I wasn’t a sap, either. Shaking my head, I stood and made my way to the kitchen for a beer, dialing Channing as I went. I thought the call was about to go to voicemail when he finally picked up.

  “I’ve got good news for you, bro,” I said, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I twisted the cap off my bottle of Bud. “Remember how you were sweating being on tour while Melanie’s about to deliver?”

  Melanie was Channing’s wife, due to give birth to their third daughter in as many years. One of these Christmases, I was going to buy him a TV.

  “I’m the one sweating, how can I forget? I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “Well, tomorrow I’m driving back to Arizona to pick up your new assistant. But don’t call her that.”

  “Her?” I heard his strangled laughter over the call. “Are you telling me you hired Kenni Michaels to be my replacement?”

  “Not your replacement. I’m sure Matt will want her back sooner rather than later, but we’ve agreed to the rest of the Supercross season. You’ll have a job whenever you’re ready to come back. Get Kenni up to speed and take off as soon as you think she’s ready. Take some extra time with your wife.”

  “More like stay home to take care of Emma and Cassie while Melanie sleeps all day,” he grumbled good-naturedly. I knew he would lay down his life if Melanie simply asked, but I couldn’t resist giving him shit.

  “Dude, she’s busy making your third baby. Give her a break. Just wrap the kids in blankets and put on a Disney princess movie.”

  “God, I can’t wait to give you parenting advice someday,” he muttered, then switched subjects. “When’s the girl arriving?”

  “I’m driving out there in the middle of the night and snatching her up just after dawn. I expect to be back tomorrow evening.”

  “Finn, Ralph’s going to have a shit fit. You knocked off practice today to do your charity stuff, now you’re going to take tomorrow off, too? Do you want to win this season or not?”

  “Of course, I want to win, more than anything, but Chan... this girl just might be for the rest of my life.” I left him sputtering as I hung up, laughing to myself. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be handing Kenni my nuts next. I reminded myself they were still there, just as I turned in for a few hours.

  I was up before my alarm, my excitement at having Kenni with me full time leaving me tossing and turning for three hours. I gave up around eleven, brewing an extra-large thermos full of coffee
to take on the road.

  Driving my truck was almost as much a Zen experience as riding my bike. I could just sink in the soft cloth seats, turn up Spotify, and drive for hours. The trip to Arizona was an easy one, a straight shot across Interstate 10. I set the cruise control at eighty and listened to Luke Bryan lead me down the highway, straight to my destiny.

  The night had been a disaster. When I broke the news to Matt, I was going to work for Finn, he went ballistic. Then when I admitted I was going to be staying at his house with him, he threatened to board up my bedroom—with me inside it. Remembering the incident with the drill, I took a soft approach. The memory of soothing my brother’s ego and his genuine worry for me was arduous. Matt was an ass of the first degree. Convincing him to do anything he didn’t want to do took an act of Congress. In the end, he conceded we needed the money but swore to every saint he could think of, he’d have me back home as soon as the season ended.

  I didn’t get to bed until midnight. Thinking about Finn already on his way left me restless and anxious. I swung back and forth between being excited about staying with Finn and joining his team and terrified I was making the second biggest mistake of my young life. It didn’t help that Matt insisted I was, but I also knew he just wanted to protect me. I finally gave up any hope of rest and trudged into the kitchen to brew a cup of black tea. It wasn’t as strong as the coffee I really wanted, but I was hoping to get some shut-eye on the trip to Los Angeles. Truth be told, I was more nervous about being stuck in such close quarters with Finn for six whole hours. It just felt like it would be... intense. So, my talent for denial urged me to sleep instead of engaging with him.

  At three minutes past seven, a knock came at the apartment door. Of course, it was Finn, carrying an enormous bag of what I could only assume were bagels. Matt came wandering out, shirtless and scratching his stomach as he yawned widely.

  “Fuck, it’s you,” he groused when his bleary eyes finally settled on Finn. “You didn’t tell me he was coming so early.”

  “Yes, I did. You were too busy throwing a tantrum to listen, I guess,” I sweetly pointed out.

  “Shut up, Michaels and come eat,” Finn chided my brother, brushing past us both, walking into the kitchen. “I thought we’d reached an uneasy truce for the time being.”

  I watched in amazement as my brother wandered into the kitchen with Finn, then grabbed a few paper plates from the cupboard.

  “As worrisome as it is to ask, do you have a knife?” Finn quipped.

  “Not yet,” Matt volleyed back as he took a bread knife out of a drawer and handed it over to Finn—carefully to my surprise.

  I shouldered my way between the two of them, grabbing my own plate and snatching the bagel Finn had just sliced. He and Matt gave me dirty looks, but I just smiled innocently as I smeared cream cheese and lox over my bagel, taking meticulous care to make sure every millimeter of bagel was slathered in the spread.

  “You two about done here? Because your attitudes are tiresome. We’re in a predicament we never expected, but here we are. You guys need to find a way to stop insulting each other and if not get along, at least peacefully co-exist in my presence because neither one of you is going anywhere.”

  Finn smiled tensely but put out his hand to shake as he slid his other arm around my waist and pulled me tight to his side in his typical caveman fashion. His message was clear—he was only making nice for my benefit. I didn’t care if they were sincere if it meant they could be in the same room without any bloodshed.

  Matt stared at Finn’s hand for a few seconds before glancing at me. I nodded, satisfied when my brother finally took his hand and shook. It wasn’t the most congenial of détentes, but I knew a win when I saw one.

  “This doesn’t mean I like you,” my brother grumbled in his usual fashion.

  “Aw, and I was about to invite you to the slumber party,” Finn drawled sarcastically. As soon as my brother shot him the finger, I knew everything would be okay.

  “Shut up and eat, you two. I need help packing for this little move, and you two are hereby drafted.”

  It was strangely easy to make small talk after a few minutes. All I had to do was start talking about the next race, bikes, or who we thought might be the one to watch for on the leader board. The guys quickly forgot they hated each other as they passionately argued over which 250 rider would be the next to advance to the big bikes. I managed to drift away and packed while they moved from one subject to another. I swore they took opposing views just so they could continue to disagree.

  When I finished packing, I wheeled my two rolling cases out to the living room. I wasn’t bringing a lot, just my underthings, several pairs of jeans, twice as many tee shirts, some pajamas, and three pairs of sneakers. The second suitcase was filled with motorcycle manuals, plain blue coveralls, six ball caps, and my mother’s journal, which I took with me whenever I left home for an extended period. I’d read the worn thing, cover to cover, many times over, but it never failed to keep her memory burning vividly.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” Finn offered as soon as he noticed me clumsily pushing my way to the front door. Happy to stand back, I looked at my brother, who stood in the kitchen, cereal bowl in hand.

  “You’re seriously eating Fruity Pebbles while we’re going to load Finn’s truck?” I asked, wondering why I was surprised at anything my brother did.

  “Don’t worry,” he said around a mouthful of cereal. “I’m almost done.”

  I turned away in horror as Matt brought the bowl to his lips and began to drink straight from it. I turned back to Finn, shuddering.

  “C’mon,” he said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I promise to make you forget you ever saw that.”

  “If only it was the first time,” I replied, shaking my head in disgust at my brother’s manners.

  ***

  After six hours in the truck, with only two stops at sketchy gas stations and a rest stop straight out of a slasher movie, we finally arrived in Los Angeles. It was closing in on dinner time, and my stomach was making its voice heard.

  “You want to grab something on our way home? I don’t think you have much time before your stomach starts eating itself,” Finn offered as said stomach growled out its support of his idea.

  “I’d say we should pick up a pizza and beer, but we’re too close to the finale. You can’t afford all those carbs right now,” I replied, smacking my lips as I thought of a frosty bottle of beer and a huge cheese pizza with extra cheese.

  “I’ll do you one better. Cauliflower pizza.”

  I looked at him, unimpressed, as he guided the truck into a parking spot in front of a supermarket. I was out of the truck, waiting for him at the tailgate before he ever got his door shut. He joined me, taking my hand.

  “C’mon. We’ll have to settle for the frozen variety today, so there’s going to be a certain cardboard flavored element, so don’t get your expectations up. I promise, one day when we haven’t spent all day driving, I’ll make you my special recipe from scratch.”

  “You’re really not giving me anything to look forward to tonight.”

  That statement earned me a look that nearly melted my underwear. The intense, smoldering gaze from eyes now the color of rough seas left me breathless. I took a step back, which he clearly took as an invitation to pursue me because he stepped right into the void.

  “I’ll give you plenty to look forward to,” he whispered as he pulled me to a stop in the middle of the crowded parking lot and kissed me, long and slow.

  He wasn’t wrong. His kiss gave me a lot to anticipate for the twenty minutes it took to locate the pizza and go through the self-check-out line. I was a mixture of nervous energy and sexual desire by the time we returned to Finn’s truck. I didn’t know whether to jump his bones once we were in the cab or burn it off with a brisk jog to his house.

  We reached the house ten minutes later, parking in the garage and leaving my suitcases in the truck bed to be dealt with once we’d s
atisfied my stomach. The cauliflower pizza was rather like tomato sauce and cheese atop a poorly flavored cardboard layer. Finn insisted it was edible, but I ended up raiding his refrigerator and devouring an entire jar of dill pickles.

  “Is there something you need to tell me, Kenni?” Finn asked, his head tilted toward me, his eyes moving from mine to the jar of spears and back again as we sat on the floor, eating from his coffee table. I swallowed hard, unsure what he was getting at. Had he somehow found out about Dalton?

  “I’m not, um, I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied, tongue tripping over my words.

  “I don’t know if it’s true or just a myth, but I always heard women with a strong preference for pickles are usually expecting.”

  “Expecting what?” I asked as I crunched a mouthful of pickle while fishing in the jar with my fingers for another.

  “A child?”

  “Wait, what did you say?” I said, the screeching sound of time stopping almost audible.

  “Good God, Kenni. Are you pregnant? If you are, I can’t have you working in my garage,” he replied, looking at me with genuine concern.

  “No!” I replied, suddenly overtaken by a fit of giggles. “But that’s awfully sexist of you to say. In fact, I think it might be illegal.”

  “It’s not funny, Kenni. Are you sure?”

  “I’m a thousand percent sure. I just like pickles. It’s not nearly as weird as someone using cauliflower for pizza. Besides, you didn’t have any bacon in the house.” I bit off the end of another spear as I watched Finn’s face gradually relax.

  “Okay,” he said, clearly less nervous. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were... just a surprise.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I said, screwing the lid back on the now-empty pickle jar. “So, what now, Captain America?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m whipped. Remember, I started my day at midnight.” Finn replied on a yawn. “Ralph will have my ass if I’m dragging tomorrow. We’re supposed to show up at his house at oh-dark-thirty, so we can get to the track early.”