Chapter 8

Pocketing his phone again he asks me “Hey babe did you have any luck in finding a costume?” Shaking my head I explain that everything I found I’ve either done with my ex-boyfriend or didn’t seem good enough for us. “That’s perfect that you haven’t found anything as I don’t know if you heard me on the phone, but my manager has spoken to my sponsor and has said we could wear my new gear and show it off at the party. Doesn't that sound great?”

“Yeah, that does sound great, but I’m confused Garrett, I didn’t know you were an athlete and has a manager and sponsors already. You must be really good.”

“I’m one of the best riders there is babe.” What did he just say?

“Rider?” I ask hoping he’s not what I think he is.

“Oh, sorry I never told you did I?” I shake my head waiting for him to finish saying what I hope he doesn’t say. “I’m a motocross rider.” And there it is. But am I stupid enough to end something without trying just because of what he does or is he worth giving this relationship a try and get to know him off the bike as well as on it?

“You’re a motocross rider?” I ask him and he nods answering my question. I feel myself pale and my palms go clammy. Attempting to take a calming deep breath to not let this affect me as much as I am letting it show I need to ask him a couple of questions. “Okay, umm... who is that Mav person who were talking to? Is he the manager you mentioned earlier?”

“Yeah, Mav is short for Maverick. He’s been my manager since I was in high school, signed me on the dot after my eighth win in a row when I was sixteen.” Wow, that seems pretty young I don’t even think Greg got signed that soon and I tell him that skipping out on the Greg part. He doesn’t need to know about my ex.

“Sure, is babe, I’m one of the small few who did at that age.” He does sound cocky when he tells me that. He takes hold of my hand as we start walking out of the store since Garrett has sorted out our costumes. Even though they’re not really costumes but a walking billboard kinda thing. “Is there anything else you would like to ask me?”

“What engine class do you ride in?” Surprising him and myself that I remember something like that from when Greg first told me about him and riding secretly with his cousin.

“I ride in the 250 4F class. How do you know about engine classes?” Garrett asks me.

Feeling my cheeks warm as this is sort of embarrassing for me. “Oh, umm an old friend of mine used to ride and I believe he still does. I’ve not spoken to him in over two years.” I hate lying to Garrett about my history with Greg. I know he still rides and he’s doing amazing from what I have read online. Just knowing how he’s succeeding in what he said he would do I’m happy for him, but it hurts that he is doing it without me. He is off living the time of his life, a different girl on his arm in every city, and here I am in Boston working my ass off for something I will fight to earn even if it’s my birthright.

I asked Garrett what are we going to do about the gear he’s acquired for the party, and he said to follow him so we can get mine measured and take them from there, so we have them ready for the party. I follow Garrett for maybe ten miles to a warehouse just outside of Boston and park next to his car. Climbing out of my car Garrett is there to hold my hand and guide me around the building.

Once we got inside, we are welcomed by a tall man with deep brown eyes and salt and peppered colored hair dressed in a dark navy suit sans a tie with the top button undone. Garrett walks up to the man and shakes his hand. They talk for a few minutes before Garrett introduces me to the man, I now find out is his manager, Maverick. But he prefers to be called Mav for short. I am standing around this lobby seeing pictures of different riders, some on podiums, some riders in midair from doing jumps, some riders on bends and others are with some riders at what looks like team tents. I can see Garrett in a fair few photos, but I don’t recognize anyone else in any of the photos and the ones where the riders are wearing their helmets are the most difficult because I can’t see their eyes through the visors.

Garrett interrupted my train of thought as I was looking around the lobby to take me on a tour of the entire warehouse. I was very impressed with what I could see. Garrett had a whole CEO office-sized room that has a plaque on the door saying, ‘Garrett’s Trophy Room’ and inside was cabinet after cabinet of trophies, awards, shields, and pictures of him with major prizes like a cash prize and even cars.

After Garrett showed me around the warehouse and introduced me to his team of mechanics, he took me to see the team seamstress and get my jersey fitted and a custom-made mini skirt to match with. I was a little uncomfortable with how "mini" Garrett wanted it at first, but we compromised I wear his gear, and he gives me an inch and a half more length in the skirt. I’m happy he agreed to it and just as we approved on everything Garrett leaned over and whispered in my ear, “It doesn’t matter how long or short the skirt will be by the end of the night I will be pulling it down your legs and dropping it on the floor.”

I can’t believe Garrett said something like that. Especially with people in hearing distance who knows him but don’t know me. I feel a little turned on with a mixture of embarrassment but mostly turned on with his comment. Thinking about it more I feel a little nervous if that is how our night will end as I have only ever been with Greg and nobody else since we broke up two years ago. I know I shouldn’t feel this way as he has probably fucked more women than I could ever think of. I want to experience something new. I can’t keep living in the past and worry about Greg. It’s time I focus on the now and this budding relationship with Garrett.