Do something, my numb brain flickers through.
“You need to get to your table,” I chide, “Mel doesn’t do clowns.” I’m looking straight into the rednose bastard’s eyes as I say this. He doesn’t look thrilled about the double meaning of my words. Oh, he gets it.
“So what he’s saying is fuck the hell off,” Logan chimes in from next to Kiara. “You’re scaring my sister.” Ren’s head jerks up, obnoxiously full of himself, a clouded expression on his face. A look that makes my gut turn, and not in a good way.
“Oh, I’ll be ready for the dance, darling,” Chloe nags. Yeah, not gonna happen. She slides her hand through Ren’s arm and they walk off to their table.
“Hey, bro,” Logan looks at me worriedly, “You’re supposed to open the dance floor and you don’t have a date.” Yeah, that was part of the plan.
“If you weren’t as ugly as hell and sprouting a dick, I would offer up my services,” Ilkay teases. I decide to play along. I look at Axel with a pouting face.
“Don’t look at me,” he chuckles. I turn to Enrique.
“Not going to happen, dude.” She hasn’t removed her hand.
“Don’t sweat, guys, I was actually thinking of asking Mel,” and just for show I add, “or Kiara.” I hope Kiara gets the drift, while the rest of the table stays in the dark.
She does. “Take Mel,” she says hastily, “I can’t dance for shit in these shoes.” Oh, I owe that girl a great big something. And her eyes show me exactly that … and more. They also threaten that I must not hurt her again or else …
Mel is still in a slight state of shock.
Fucking clown.
Then I grimace at his mistake. At least she’s not going to go near him tonight. Poor bastard dug his own grave.
And still, her hand stays put. I squeeze it softly while looking into her eyes. For a moment she looks a little lost.
Hell, I love it when she loses her cool and reveals the softer Mel lurking beneath that tough girl exterior.
Then she shoves my hand away with a feisty flick of hers, her cool sliding back into her eyes. That too. I love that, too, when she gets all ruffled and agitated.
Mark takes up the microphone and it honks out a loud shrill BEEEEEEEPPPPP.
“Testing, testing,” he says into it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is probably one of the most special Halloween parties we’ll ever get to experience. We’re here to mainly celebrate Damion’s 21st birthday. It’s a big day to become officially a legal adult. But with that, we also want to celebrate one of the best seasons we’ve had so far.” He drops his hand with the mike to his chest as if thinking what to say next. Our eyes meet over the small distance and I smile. Mark was one of the best racers of his time and now he’s probably the best manager slash coach out there.
“Although the season is still ongoing, we know after the Malaysia race last week, that Damion officially won back his championship! And Sean is on the ball in third place. Ensuring that we will be reclaiming the team-of-the-year trophy from Honda.” Mark lifts a glass towards me. I toast back.
“Hear! Hear!” my boys shout.
“This year we also smashed nearly every record in the book.” People cheer and whistle loudly, the most noise coming from the guys at my table. Mark waits for it to quiet down.
“Damion broke the fastest speed record during the Tissot Sprint, Mugello with a whopping 371. 2 km per hour.” An exuberant huss charges through the venue. “He also broke his own lap record with 7 seconds.” The murmur continues.
“And for the first time, he competed in The Isle of Man TT, and not only won, but did so in the fastest time ever recorded.” I’m almost more proud of that accomplishment than being the Grand Prix champion. It’s a grueling race. Difficult and very dangerous. But I did it.
“Hell, yeah!” Logan shouts while lifting his champagne flute. The rest of the boys follow suit and glasses clash against each other. The guys are clearly in a joyful mood that they seem to spread through the building.
“And with our new upcoming Reaper bikes, new records are guaranteed. Nobody is going to keep up with us in the next season.” Blackburn Inc. designed and engineered powerful new prototypes for our next season. I’m test-riding them between races and they fly like a dream.
Sean salutes me from his table. It truly was a great year, both of us ending with a podium finish, with Enervoltz rider Graham Scott – my biggest competition – between us in second place. He’s not happy to hand the championship over.
“Oh, and one more thing … Enervoltz is changing hands at the end of this season. Their Texan Oil Company owners decided to quit after the accident.” A shocked buzz fills the room as people start whispering between them again. That’s big news. We’ve been competing against Enervoltz, Ducati, and Honda for years in MotoCross, but it turned into a war these last 4 years since we entered into MotoGP.
At 18 I won both rookie of the year and championship in my first season and we won the team trophy. Then champion again, the following year. However, last year, I got injured after a pileup. Graham took the championship and Honda took the team title. But this year we’re back on track.
“All I can say is bring it on!” Mark lifts his glass again. Then he looks at me.
“Damion,” He moves his eyes to Sean. “And Sean, we are so proud of you, boys.”
“And tonight, we want to wish our champion a very happy birthday!” He lifts his glass and everybody shouts ‘CHEERS’!
He holds up his hands again to calm the crowd.
“That’s enough from me. Damion and Sean are now going to open the dance floor for us. Enjoy the party people!” He points to the DJ. I changed the song at the last minute, but after our conversation in the truck, I know it’s a perfect fit.
I hold out my hand to Mel with a lopsided grin and lead her to the dance floor. Sean and his ‘alien’ follows.
Some hard wolf whistles and cheerful shouts fill the room, making her blush. So fucking fetching.
Date = 31 October
Place = San Francisco (Reaper venue)
POV – Damion
I swing her playfully onto the dance floor, turn, and come face-to-face with the 5-foot-4, heart-stopping, stubborn-as-hell beauty as we wait for the music to start.
You hurt me you did … Several times
It hurts to admit that we’re no different … I find it hard to commit
But you don’t even try
Still, I’m better with than without you
I pull her tight. She closes her eyes, sucks in a breath, and leans into me – as if it’s an extremely difficult thing to do. Her breasts brush against my chest, her thighs to mine, and everything in between connects, as we slide over the floor.