Page 55 of Imbalanced Minds

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Iris

The end of the week has come around faster than I imagined. It’s been a pretty good week.

I love Friday’s; I get some sort of thrill knowing they’re reserved for track time. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have to do much today but with the bachelor party booked in tomorrow, I have to help Dad check over all the gear, bikes and health and safety protocols.

“How have you been doing, honey?” Dad asks, from behind one of the bikes. “I’ve been good, Dad. Really good actually.” I say, content.

“I’m glad to hear it kiddo. Your mother and I have been worried about you, ya know. After the incident, we weren’t sure if we were going to get our little girl back—” I interrupt him with my hand raised in front of me. “Dad, please,” I beg him, so he doesn’t take me back to the horrible dark place I’ve managed to avoid so well.

“Hear me out. I was going to mention how well you’ve done and it’s obvious Cory is making you happy. You’ve been smiling so much lately and it’s just so warming to see.”

“It’s not like you to get all sentimental. You usually avoid ‘boy talk’.” I laugh. “He makes me happy, yes. I don’t know what I would do without him. He understands me, good and bad.” I reply, knowing this conversation isn’t one Dad is finding easy. He isn’t usually the talking type, Mum is.

“Well, I’m glad about that. How about we take these bikes out for a spin, then the track is all yours for the afternoon.”

I walk over to Dad and engulf him in a hug. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, pumpkin. If you tell your mother about any of this, I’ll deny all of it. Lips sealed, okay? I don’t want to look like I’m getting soft.” He says while motioning his fingers across his lips to keep them sealed.

I laugh as I grab my gear and prepare to get this day moving. “Sure, Dad. It’s our little secret.”

—

I don’t normally work weekends, but Dad’s Saturday guy needed the day off; I’m only here for the morning as back up in case something goes wrong.

It’s pretty normal for a party like this to book in the morning, alcohol-free zone and all so I don’t mind helping out.

Currently, the second half are out on the track while the others are cheering on the sidelines.

I’ve been hiding away in the shed for the most part; I thought I’d give Rick a little love after yesterday’s ride. I’m about to head back out when a couple of guys attract my attention.

“Hey, blondie, where the pissers at?” I scrunch my eyebrows at the use of his name for me, but force a polite reply. “They’re over there, by the office building,” pointing in the general direction, while I turn my attention back to Rick.

“Thanks, blondie,” the doosh hiccups. Okay, so that obviously means the first group has started drinking. This is the only downfall of helping on Saturdays; guys always assume I’m here just to look pretty and don’t believe that the track record they’re trying to beat is truly mine or that I could probably fix a motorbike better than most of them.

I give it a few extra minutes before leaving to find Dad. If I’m honest, I’m a little intimidated by these men. I don’t get too far when the same one who spoke before sidles up to me and starts hitting on me. I find it repulsive, so I try my best to ignore it. Dickwad has other ideas.

“What’s a sexy little minx like you working here in a man’s domain, huh?” he jabs.

Sexist pig.

“How come we didn’t get to take that sick ride you were cleaning up out there?” he points toward Dad.

He just won’t stop.

I honestly wish I could keep my mouth shut, but comments like that bring out the unpredictable in me. “You know that track time you and your boys are trying to beat? Well, that’s mine and I made it on that bike! If you think you can come in here and start talking to me like that, you can think twice about coming back again because that,” I point to the track, “is my domain, so get fucked.” This burst of adrenaline is amazing, but seriously what was I thinking.

I pick up my pace and head for Dad. I can’t bear to pay attention to any of them, but I’ve got serious creep vibes coming from them; something just doesn’t sit right. After all, they look like jacked-up thugs, only better dressed.

“Hey Dad, I’m all done. How’s it going out here?” I ask, leaning on the fence post.

“Aside from being a little rough on the bikes and somewhat shady, they abide by the rules and no harm was done. I don’t think I want to book any of them back again though.” He says, side-eyeing the group who are now getting into their blacked-out van.

“How about you head off? I can manage putting the bikes away. You’ve been a huge help today, honey. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll quickly grab my coat from my office before I head off.”

---