Page 14 of Burnout
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving. Coach made us run for thirty minutes today because a couple of guys were messing around.” It’s more words than Flynn usually says on our drive home, and I know it’s because he’s trying to smooth over my fuck-up. He can read me better than anyone.
We talk back and forth the entire ride, but the unease I feel doesn’t abate. As soon as we get to the house, Flynn heads straight for his bedroom.
Archer and Brogan are in the living room watching TV, and Hendrick and his fiancée, Jane, are sitting at the dining room table.
“Hey,” Hendrick calls as I set my keys on the kitchen counter. It’s followed by a chorus of hellos from everyone else. I murmur a greeting back distractedly as my gaze snags on the half-eaten lasagna.
“You made dinner?” The question comes out more accusatory than intended. It’s rare that anyone else cooks around here unless you count microwaveable meals.
“Jane did.” Hendrick looks at her like she invented the meal instead of cooked it. My oldest brother has it bad.
My stomach growls. It smells good and I skipped lunch. “Thanks, Hollywood.”
She shoots me a playful glare at the nickname. Jane starred in a TV show when she was younger. I never watched it, but I’ve heard her sing a time or two and her voice is incredible.
I fill a plate and take it to the dining room table. It’d be rude not to eat it, even if I was planning on grilling steaks tonight.
Jane’s doing homework at the table. She’s in her final year at Valley U, same as Brogan and Archer. Hendrick sits beside her, leaned back in a chair with a mug of coffee in front of him, studying her.
When Flynn comes out of his room to make a plate, it reminds me of the money. I drop my fork and grab my wallet, pull out some bills and plop them in front of my older brother.
“What’s this?” Hendrick asks, eyeing it carefully.
“It’s to pay for Flynn’s warmups.”
One brow rises and his head cocks to the side, then he pushes the cash back toward me. “Fuck off. I don’t want your money.”
“I’m not letting you pay for the warmups.”
“Why not?”
I know a loaded question when I hear one. “I’d already set aside the money. It just slipped my mind and I forgot to give it to him.”
I can tell Hendrick wants to argue, so I add, “If you won’t take it, I’m just going to shove it in the tip jar the next time I’m at the bar.”
“Can you make sure I’m working when you do?” Brogan asks without looking back at us from where he sits facing the TV.
Flynn takes a seat at the end of the table. His stare volleys between us. We’re a stubborn bunch, so it’s not abnormal that two or more of us would be bickering. All-out fights are less common, but also not out of the question.
Clearly annoyed, but resigned, Hendrick accepts the money. He hasn’t taken it yet, but he lets it sit between us as he resumes his position, leaning back with one arm resting behind Jane’s chair.
He can’t be paying for things right now anyway. He just opened a bar about a year ago. It’s doing well, but something always needs to be fixed, and he and Jane are planning a very elaborate and over-the-top wedding for next summer.
We all fall back into comfortable silence. I’m lost in my thoughts as I eat, turning over the day in my head. I got a good practice in at the track, but I’m still thinking about my call with Mike.
With a mouthful of food, Flynn mumbles, “Did you find a new team today?”
All eyes dart to me. I shake my head. The food I’m chewing doesn’t have quite the same appeal and I push my plate away from me. “No, not yet.”
After another beat of silence from everyone, Hendrick asks, “How many have you reached out to?”
All of them. “A couple.”
“You’ll find a team,” Flynn says optimistically. “You’re the best rider. They’d be dumb not to grab you while they have the chance.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, voice raw. My skin feels tight, and my mouth goes dry. I clear my throat and stand. When my plate is cleared and put in the dishwasher, I head straight out to the garage.
My body relaxes and my mind clears as I start tinkering with my bike. It’s not long after when Hendrick joins me. He holds a beer out to me.
