Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Uh, I’m not a douche who runs around yelling out a catchphrase. Isn’t that enough?”
He chuckles. “No. That shit gets him noticed. It’s entertaining.” He roughs his hand over my hair. “Maybe we should shave your head or dye it purple or something.”
“The fuck you’re touching my hair,” I growl, shaking him off.
“All right. Everyone get cleaned up,” Jordan shouts. “You guys did good. We’re going on a field trip today.”
“Aw, shucks.” Woolly chucks his arm in the air and pulls a doofy face. “My mom forgot to pack a lunch for me.”
“Har, har.” Jordan rolls his eyes. “Come on. You guys have been working hard. We put together a fun surprise for you.”
I roll my eyes toward Venom. “This is sounding worse by the minute.”
He chuckles and shoves me toward the hallway. “Stop dragging your feet. I want to see if the outside world still exists.”
“Good point.”
“Is it girls?” Deadass shouts. “I’m gettin’ tired of seeing the same raggedy bitches every day.”
Thankfully, I haven’t talked to Kiki since I had it out with Paul the Potato. Either they told her to leave me alone or she finally took the hint. She and the other girls usually spend the day sunbathing by the pool. Since the pool’s basically a big tub of piss at this point, it’s not hard to avoid that entire area.
I only have one girl on my mind.
Molly.
I want to win this thing and get home to her.
That’s what drives me.
Winning means I can take care of us. I can handle any petty bullshit they put me through here, as long as I can take care of my girl in the end.
“Stonewall!” one of the crew members barks. “Let’s go.”
The camera guys follow us to our rooms as everyone whoops, slaps lighting fixtures, and for some reason, punches the walls.
Shaking my head, I step into my room and quickly change.
I end up being one of the first ones outside. A row of four or five sport bikes line the small circular driveway along with the two vans we took on our last outing.
Afraid to get my hopes up, I ask Jordan, “What’s this?”
Venom and Woolly join me, their enthusiasm obvious from their quick steps and wide-eyed appreciation for the machines.
“Oh, fuck yeah.” Woolly claps his hands and rubs them together. “Please tell me we get to ride? You didn’t just bring them here to tease us, did you?”
“Well, you three have your Class M, so yes. Pick one out. Thunder should be able to ride too. The rest will be behind you in the vans.”
“You trust us not to take off?” I circle one of the Kawasaki Ninjas. “The ZX-14R’s engine is a beast. It’s supposed to do zero to sixty in under three seconds. You won’t be able to catch us.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Jordan warns. “We have road clearance from here to the place we’re going. Let’s not test local PD’s patience.”
“Road clearance?” Woolly asks. “So this is a stunt for the show?”
“No, we thought we’d spend all this money to rent the bikes and turn you loose on the town for no reason,” Jordan retorts, his annoyance obvious as he rolls his eyes and storms inside the house.
“Heh,” Venom chuckles. “About time they do something besides antagonize us.”
“Guys.” I point to the bikes. “Dibs on blue. Keys are right there.” I tilt my head toward the road. “Just sayin’.”
“You planning to smash through the gate?” Woolly nods to the closed wrought iron barring our exit.
“Honestly, right about now, I might.” I gesture toward the house. “You realize it’s going to take another hour to get everyone down here, get the camera crews ready, wait for them to line up their shots. This is torture.”
“Quit whining and go run some laps or something,” Venom says, nodding at the path circling the house.
“No way.” I throw my leg over the bike I’ve claimed. “You just want to steal my ride.”
“Green’s more my style.” Venom rests his hand on another Ninja.
“I thought you were a Harley guy?” Woolly squints at me.
“Anything with wheels. And I’m not kidding, I’m dying to get out of here for even a few minutes.”
Our conversation’s interrupted by two of the camera guys coming out of the house to film “candid” shots of us studying the bikes. Hard to “act natural” with a camera up my ass.
As I predicted, it’s another hour and a half before we’re on the road.
Straddling the sleek Ninja is a whole new world. Instead of the familiar rumble of my Harley, the Ninja has a pleasant throaty growl that only suggests the power waiting under my fingertips. The bike’s nimble, different from the weighty foundation of my usual ride.
I kick mine into gear first, eager to dart forward. But we have to wait for a pickup truck to take the lead so one of the camera guys can film us while he hangs over the tailgate. Annoyed, I flip the visor on my helmet down.