I stiffen in his embrace and cut him off before he goes down memory lane about Grace. “Let’s not talk about her.”
Dad sighs as I pull away and lean back against the desk. “All right but, honey, please try and be civil to Trip. I really want this to work out. We need him to like us.”
I roll my eyes. As much as it kills me, I know I have to play nice. “I’ll try, but I swear if he comes on to me like the rest of the goons around here, I promise I won’t show any mercy.”
He chuckles. “I would expect nothing less from you. Just please don’t rip his head off. I can’t afford a lawsuit. I’m trying to get money from him, not give it.”
We both laugh because it’s no secret around this track that I’m quick witted and unafraid to put any man in his place. I’m one tough, general operations manager. This may be a male-dominated sport, but at Mountain Time Speed Track it’s most definitely a woman’s world.
TRIP
I rub my forehead, wishing I could take back the last five or so beers past my limit I drank last night. Walking into this place with a hangover wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. Thank God Mr. Pearson wasn’t insistent I check out the track first. I would’ve puked after the first five minutes of riding.
I didn’t mean to get that hot blonde in trouble with her dad. Flirting with beautiful women mercilessly is my favorite past time. I can’t help myself. And Holly Pearson is one fine piece of ass. No doubt about that. She reminds me a lot of that blonde I kissed last night, or at least I think I kissed last night. Things started getting hazy after my tenth drink, or maybe it was the twelfth drink. Alcohol has a way of fucking up my brain and making shit a blur. The blonde was smoking hot too. One minute she was grinding her ass against my dick, causing me nearly to come in my jeans, the next minute she was gone, dragged off by another guy. Lucky bastard was probably her boyfriend.
So, I had to find some random chick. I couldn’t let a good hard-on go to waste. One of these nights I’m going back to that club while I’m in town to find that girl. It’s a shame her face is kind of a blur today.
I glance up at the clock on the wall. Mr. Pearson and Holly have been gone for nearly ten minutes and there’s no sign of them coming out any time soon.
Holly is really feisty. I’m going to have to figure out a way to make her my friend if I’m going to be here for the next four weeks. I hate tension. It bugged the fuck out of me when Noel and Riff fought. I’m so glad that shit’s over. That kind of shit wears on a persons sanity after a while, which is why I need to squash whatever problem Holly has with me. Most women giggle and love it when I put the moves on them. It’s an ego boost to them. But this one loathes me and I don’t have a fucking clue why.
It’s totally obvious she has no clue who the hell I am because she seemed rather appalled by me, which never happens. Most people turn into over-pleasing twits around celebrities. It’s fucking annoying not to be able to get the truth out of people.
I drum my fingers on the countertop, tapping out the beat of a new song my twin brother and band-mate, Tyke, and I have been working on for the past couple weeks. With a few minor tweaks I think we’ll have the next Black Falcon hit-single ready to record when we finally head back into the studio next month.
I really miss working. Black Falcon and the rest of the guys are my life. I love everything about my job, and I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I consider myself the best fucking drummer in the business. I can pound out grungy, raw beats like nobody in the business, and the combination of my beats and Tyke’s bass flowing in sync creates magic that’s often emulated, but never duplicated. No one can rock the beat like we can. Black Falcon is unique and our bond as a band is stronger now than ever before. It might make me a pussy for saying this but I’ll admit, when we’re not all together I feel a little homesick.
If it weren’t for women getting in the way of our work, we’d be on the road right now touring. The whole situation pisses me off a bit.
Yeah, I know. Sure, Lane and Aubrey are great chicks and have done wonders in getting Noel and Riff to settle down and become friends again, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t cramping the rest of our styles. It’s been over a month since I banged a random groupie and I hate this fucking dry-spell. It makes me edgy, which is why I had to go out to a club in Tucson last night and find a random piece of ass. I needed to take the edge off.
The thought of throwing Holly down on this counter and fucking her seven different way from Sunday entered my head about a thousand times during our little heated discussion. Girls with attitude are hot and she’s exactly my type—a petite blonde with perfect tits. Even when she was mean as hell to me, all I could think about was kissing that rude mouth of hers.
See what I mean? I can’t function without sex—it’s like a fucking drug. I’m used to getting it daily, and when you don’t get what you crave, you’ll find your fix wherever you can. Which is why that lay last night, even as lousy as it was, was a blessing. I was at least able to keep why I was actually here on my mind and not be completely distracted by those perky, little tits of Holly’s.
Going undercover at this dirt bike racing track, looking at it as a potential investment will be good for me. I need to branch out a bit. I’ve gotten bored with all the time off Noel and Riff have need lately. Both of them decided to run off and start families—I get it—but that does nothing for me. I need something else to occupy my time. If I’d had to sit in the house with my brother and work on one more song I swear to God I would’ve gone nuts. Noel and Riff are killing me with their need for all this personal time off.