Page 71 of Narrow Margins
God, it’s been a hard year. Griff has raced like a demon, the desire to prove himself to the haters and gay bashers is nothing to the need to prove to himself that he is still the best racer out there. It’s not been easy, we haven’t won all the races, there’s been two he crashed out of and scored zero points. I thought my heart would stop as I watched him bounce across the gravel lanes, his bike tumbling over the top of him, missing him by inches.
Today is race eighteen out of eighteen and we’re in Valencia, Spain. The last race of the season and he only has to come third to win. But, I know him: he won’t be happy with that, he’ll want to win and it is the cause of today’s argument. It doesn’t help that the whole gang, including River and three of the young boys we have on our outreach program, have turned up as well as our friends. Nico is ready to join in the argument when I cut him a look that tells him to back the fuck off.
“Corrie, just stop! I’m not fucking settling. I want that damn top spot on the podium!” Griff stands with his leathers undone to the waist, the sleeves tied around his middle and his arms akimbo.
“Fine, what the fuck ever, you go out there and tear-ass around there but do not—and I mean DO FUCKING NOT—push your luck or your ass is mine to beat.” I crowd him but manage to prod his chest.
I hear sniggers behind me. That’s the problem with being surrounded by gay men: they still laugh at ass jokes. Swiveling my head around to glare at the bastards busting a gut, I sigh. Giving in to the release of tension, my shoulders shake as I join in, still shaking my head.
“I hate you fuckers, so get out of here, go drink champagne or whatever you do in the corporate lounge.” Then I turn back to Griff who still smirks.
“Please, Griff, don’t kill yourself on the last race. You don’t need to go balls to the wall, I want you for a long time yet.” I never ask him to tone down the way he races but, as the season has gone on, and Casey Winters has suddenly found form after a lackluster start, Griff has taken more risks.
“Baby, I promise you, I will not do anything stupid, but I am not going to back off just to get the championship from second or third place. It gives whoever is in fourth the edge to get past me even at the last corner and then it’s gone, lost for me. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Okay.” I nod then take a quick look around the room and pull him against me for a kiss, a proper, deep down, stomach-clenching, toe-curling kiss. My hands tangle in his permanently scruffy hair and tug hard, making him groan into my mouth. Slowing, I take it from hot and dirty, to soft and sweet, licking over his soft, swollen lips before we part.
“Keep that locked away for now, Griff, and you can have another when you win.” I whisper against his lips as he pecks me one more time.
“Not the best time to sport a boner, but I’ll take it.” Griff grins and untwines his leathers then zips them up. Looking at me, he grins his cocky, I’m-the-dog’s-bollocks racer grin. “Ready?”
“Always. Go get ‘em, lover; go get your championship back.” I follow him out the door and into the pit garage.
Pipes glances up and smiles, taking in our swollen mouths and the fact I’m adjusting my pants, and shakes his head. “You ready, man? Head in the game?”
Griff nods and I leave them to it; they have a routine and I don’t get in the way. I head back and get ready to watch the thirty laps, over seventy-four miles of racing, with my heart in my mouth for the most of it. Troy has set up the post-race party, we know he’s going to win, he knows he’s going to win, he simply must show the other, twenty-four riders.
I watch Griff line up on the start line, his last pole of the season, when someone walks up next to me. Whoever it is stays silent as we wait for the go. I’m holding my breath, so I wouldn’t be able to talk anyway, my hands fist at my side as I see them go.
Griff gets a good start and takes the lead, he wants to put some distance between himself and the others if he can, but Winters is having none of it and is on his tail, like a dog on the hunt.
“He’ll do it, y’know.” It’s Raff who came to stand with me. He really has tried to change his feelings about Griff, and I think he has where it comes to my relationship with him, but they can’t stop biting at each other every chance they get. Sometimes it’s amusing, other times it hurts me. “I like him, Corr; he’s a pain in the ass, but I like him. You have something good there.” He glances across at me. “You going to marry him?”
“Probably, we haven’t talked about it specifically but we do talk about forever and what we want for it. I love him more than I thought I ever could, I never thought I would get the chance of a good forever. I thought I’d lost too many of my lives in the desert to trust loving one person. But, when he came along, it was like a wrecking ball through my heart.” I take a deep breath and tell him something I’ve never shared. “He was with me the night he was accused of rape, he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to have to drag me into the public eye. He knew who I was and he wouldn’t give me as his alibi. I tried calling him as soon as it happened, eventually I stopped trying to help. Ultimately, Austin hunted me down.”
“Shit! I thought you’d had something going on, well, we all did. But we never thought that. Shit, Corrie, that must have been hard.”
“Yeah, but he’s worth it. He’s never treated me any differently, he has always looked at me as a whole man. He taught me to love myself again, to not let anything, or anyone, stop me; he has made me whole again.” I haven’t taken my eyes off the track as I wait for him to come around. Once he’s done his first lap, I’ll go and watch it properly, I know he takes the first lap as a way of reading the other riders then he’ll act on it. Reacting to their strategies as much as his own. There he is, still in the lead.
I step back and walk into the pit and lean against the wall, my eyes glued to the monitors.
Hell yeah, I’ve got this is in the bag. Turn fourteen up ahead, then the straight to the checkered flag, I’m gonna get my ass chewed out, and not in a good way, when Corrie gets me alone, but there was no way that limp-dicked asshole Winters was getting my first place.
Here we go, over onto one side, knee to the floor and my heart in my throat. Straighten up again and open the throttle. Fuck, I love this bike! The flag is out and ready and so am I, so am fucking I. It waves and waves and I scream as I cross the line.
A lap of honor: slowing down to wave at the crowds, I accept a Stars and Stripe flag and wave it behind me as I continue around, letting it float away as I approach the line again. Up on my back-tire, I race along the straight on one wheel, dropping down to perform perfect donuts, fuck yeah!
Riding down to the winners’ enclosure, I scan around for Corrie. There he is, crying like a fucking baby, but hell if I don’t feel like that, too. I meet the officials and head away for the award ceremony.
“Awesome race, man, it wasn’t the same without you. Even if I fucking hate losing.” Casey smiles and drags me into a hug, bashing me hard on the back.
I stand and listen to the national anthem, my head tipped up to the sky as emotions fill me and my eyes burn. I blink the tears away because I want to be able to see Corrie clearly as I give my speech.
Valentino Rossi walks across to interview us, coming to me first. I listen to his congratulations and question and dig deep to find my voice.
“I have to thank my team; my mechanics are truly amazing and put up with all my moans. My bosses, who are also amazing, but they don’t put up with my mouth. To the fans, I can’t thank you all enough for your amazing support this past year. But my main thanks and eternal gratitude goes to my man, to Corrie. He has kept me centered, focused since the day I first met him. I love you, baby.” My words catch in my throat and I place my hand over my heart as I speak to him, mirroring his action once more. The one we share at the start and end of every race.
“Can we leave yet?” I whisper to Corrie as we stand in a room full of people stuffing their faces with food and champagne.
“Yeah, I reckon so.” He hushes back and we turn to slip quietly away, back to the car, and make our way to the hotel.
“You still going to chew my ass out for that stunt?” I rest my head back on the seat as the driver maneuvers his way through the streets that are still full of fans.
“Nah, I thought I’d eat it out instead.” Corrie laughs and slumps his head to my shoulder. “Congratulations, champ.”