Page 5 of Narrow Margins

I look down at my phone, seeing Corrie’s name flash up again. This time, I block it from my phone, making up my mind to change my number tomorrow. I am not dragging him into this shitstorm. He’ll turn up, all-American hero, and claim who he is and what we did. Call me a fucking coward, but the longer I’m away from him, the more I lose the feeling of him over and in me. The further I get from the smell and sound of him, the easier it is to believe he wasn’t real. That he didn’t take over my body and, if I’m honest, my heart. I want him to be the one, last, good feeling I have before this vapid, hateful bitch takes away my freedom.

I’m all for protecting rape victims, but only if they have actually been raped. Hell, maybe she was but it sure as shit wasn’t by me.

“Will you, please, take this fucking seriously, you asshole.” Yep, the dulcet tones of my lawyer break through my reverie.

“Trust me, asshole, this bitch has it in for me. So, nothing anyone can say is going to stop me from going down.” I raise an eyebrow at him as he scowls.

“You are so full of fucking shit, Broderick! Do you actually think I give a fuck if you are guilty or not?” He shouts back. “I don’t give a shit! I’m the black sheep of my family, I’m the fuck-up. But there is no way on God’s green and pleasant earth that I am letting you go down for something you sure as shit didn’t do.” Austin Reynolds scrapes his black, scruffy hair back off his brow, his stubble messily gracing his lower face. How the hell is he worth this much of my fucking money? “Now, tell me who the fuck you were with.”

“Nice, makes me full of warm, fuzzy moments to know that your next condo or Porsche is funded by my hard-earned cash. Is this how you’re going to address the fucking jury?” I snap, more than ready to be out of here.

“No, I’m going to prove to the jury that Shannon ‘fuck me sideways’ Abrahams is a lying bitch that is setting you up. Whatcha do? Drown her puppy?”

“No, I turned her down and sent her off with Pipes, I’ve told you this. He said something about Casey wanting a threesome and she shot off.” I lean back in my chair and drag my hands down my face.

“So, I’ll ask again, tell me who the fuck you were with, because your bedroom had a condom wrapper on the floor, so you were definitely fucking some kind of pit bunny.” He snarls. When my face flushes, I know he’s caught me.

I’m amazed when he lets that drop and simply carries on with his rapid-fire questions. “Okay, so, where is Pipes? Why can’t we get hold of him?”

This makes my head shoot up and my eyes narrow. “What d’you mean, you can’t get hold of him? He’s always here. Have you checked his home?”

“Duh! No! Why didn’t I think of that? Of course, I’ve checked his home. He hasn’t been seen since before the set-up for the last race. Where would he go?” Austin taps away on his MacBook, looking up when I don’t answer straight away.

“Then he will be on lockdown; it always happens if the team gets bad press.” I sigh. “Have I been dropped from the team yet?”

“Okay, so, Pipes is being kept away from talking to anyone by the team. Well, I can subpoena him if I have to.” Austin picks up his cell and shouts at someone. Then, glaring at me, he pinches the bridge if his nose. “Tell me who you were with.”

“No. I won’t; they’ve been through enough already. I’m not dragging their ass through a shitty court case. She can’t have any physical evidence, I didn’t touch her. There won’t be any DNA from me on her.” Leaning back, I stare at him. He’s a good-looking man but I’m not attracted to him. Corrie’s image pops up in my mind and a rush of blood instantly travels to my dick, my heart beating faster.

“You are a stubborn prick, Broderick. I’ll find out who she was.” Austin runs his hands through his unkempt hair.

“Just earn your fucking money and get me off. Find out why she’s fucking lying, what’s in it for her. Because, trust me on this, that girl is thick as pig shit and there’s no way she’s done this by herself.”

“I’ve worked that out myself. I’m looking at Casey Winters. Why does he hate you so much?” Austin studies his fingers, picking at a piece of skin at the edge of his nail. I know it’s all an act. His razor-sharp mind works, regardless of how nonchalant he acts.

“Because I beat him every fucking time we’re on the race track. Because he’s an ugly bastard who only ever gets laid because of what he does. Because he’s a dick and hates to lose and is only racing because he can buy a ride in a team. Any of those reasons good enough for you?” I see him still picking his finger, “You want a nail file for that, pretty-boy.”

Austin slams his hand down on the table, his face turning red as he stares at me, “Listen to me, you fucker. You can go to jail for this, and not just a tap-on-the-wrist sentence, but years, ten years’ minimum. They will want to take advantage of your status, of your privileges, and you will go down.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do it, she’s lying. There isn’t a trace of me on that skank’s body, she was nowhere near me that night. Do your job and get me off.” I push my chair away from the table and stand. Placing my hands on the table, I lean over to look at him. “I didn’t fucking do it.” I snarl and stalk towards the door.

“I know you didn’t. But telling the rest of the world that? That’s going to be the tricky bit and you’re not helping me.” Austin’s voice is low but clear.

“I know, but I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” I walk out and head upstairs to lie on my bed. The housecleaner has been and my bed has been remade, leaving no trace of the man who turned my world upside-down. I still feel him as I let him take me, and the sense of every part of my world falling into place.

But I can’t bring him into this shitstorm. After looking him up and reading the coverage of his act of bravery, I could believe exactly how brave and dedicated he was to his men. His evacuation to Germany and his lifesaving surgery is all documented, but it’s his background that had me reeling. A senator’s son—a rich, privileged family—but there is no mention of his family’s reaction to his return. It seems he distanced himself from them at eighteen, when he joined up. I know his father is a hard bastard with very strong beliefs, very outspoken on the sin of homosexuality; maybe that’s why he never sees his parents?

I think how different my life, my childhood, was compared to his. My trailer-park home with a drunk as a father and a mother who was as bad, they had streams of strange men and women calling any time, day or night. I grew up lonely and neglected. Until, one day, I walked past a garage where a man was talking to a group of kids, all about my age: twelve or thirteen. The guy looked up and saw me hovering at the door.

“Hey, kid, come on in.” He waves me forward. Sneaking in, I try not to be noticed by the other kids. My eyes scan around and I see motorbikes. They are everywhere, all in different states of repair or re-build and my heart beats faster at the sight and smell of them. “What’s your name, son?”

“Griff, Griff Broderick.” I stutter. One of the other kids sniggers when he looks at me and a flash of embarrassment spreads through me. I know him, he’s a year older than me. He’ll be going to high school after the summer break.

“None of that here, Jack, you know the rules.” The guy says, making Jack flush red and mumble an apology. “Well, Griff, come on in and join us.”

That one day changed my life, when Tanner Steele let me in and unleashed a passion for bikes I never knew I had in me. The first time I could ride one brought a rush of euphoria as I let the bike teach me what I could and couldn’t do. Tanner kept me on the straight and narrow. He made sure my school work was up to date and I was making good grades. Every time I excelled, he let me ride again. His encouragement took me by surprise; my parents couldn’t give a shit about me, but Tanner did. He would know what to do now, he would tell me what to do.

As the other kids moved on and grew up, I stayed. Then, one day, Tanner offered me the chance to race. Only a small bike group, running track days and races; I couldn’t believe it. I was going to race. I knew I was fast, that I had something special when I sat astride a motorcycle, and he had given me the chance to prove it.

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