Page 64 of Jackrabbit

“I love you, you fucking moron,” Camila growled into his neck as he leaned down and scooped her onto her tiptoes for a bear hug. “That was terrifying. I thought you were gonna crash and burn every turn for the first, like, five laps.”

Colt laughed, startled, and shoved his head into the side of hers. “Thanks for the confidence, Mila, damn.”

She shook his shoulders but didn't let go. “Mami had her rosary out that second drift. That douche in the Fox Body was so close I thought he was gonna clip you.”

“You better get to the podium before they give your trophy to Billybob Douche Canoe," Liam said as he stepped up and took a bite of a Twizzler. He pointed across the field as Colt pulled Camila's arms off his neck. “Damn, he sure looks like he wants to have a private conversation, huh?”

Kendrick was standing at the back of the crowd with the kind of look that said he wanted a lot more than a talk. Colt’s kidneys, maybe.

Colt grinned his biggest shit-eating grin, the kind that had pissed off every person he’d ever raced against on the streets. The first time he’d shot it at Rosy’s boyfriend, he’d gotten his nose broken. It just got under your skin. And, damn, did it work on Kendrick, who literally bared his teeth. He seethed with his fists clenched at his sides, and when Colt dropped into a curtsey, Kendrick looked like he was about to bulldoze through the crowd to lay Colt out.

The PA system crackled to life, and the announcer called the winners to the podium, and Kendrick was lost to a sea of surging spectators. Joyce grabbed Colt’s arm and hauled him forward, James on his other side, and they delivered him to the three-tiered boxes with red paint chipping off the front, and a banner that was sagging under the weight of the rain that had drenched it earlier.

Like assholes, Xavier, James, and Liam lifted him up onto the lowest tier, and he laughed as he got his footing and turned around.

“That was some race, rookie,” said the guy in first place, a man a little taller than Colt with brown hair in a military cut and a seriously bushy mustache. He was dressed to match his car, all purple and teal, and he held out his hand for Colt to shake. “Garfield. Go by Gar, mostly.”

“Colt.” Colt shook his hand and grinned. “Thank you. Thought I might take myself out there a couple times.”

Gar laughed. “Yeah, that's half the fun, don't you think?”

The PA gargled, and Gar dropped his hand to turn and wave at a pretty blonde woman in the crowd. She blew him a kiss, and his big ass mustache lifted as he smiled and caught it like a cheese ball. Colt liked him.

When they called his name and someone handed him a plastic trophy with a checkered flag on top, Colt’s crew exploded. Xavier whistled through his fingers, Liam threw a Twizzler at his feet like a rose, and Camila screamed her head off while Joyce and Marisol waved their neon plastic ponchos like ridiculous flags.

But Colt’s eyes kept leaving them and searching for someone else. For steadiness and warmth. He found Beau against one of the haulers way at the back of the crowd, arms crossed, one foot hooked on a tire. He wasn't cheering or clapping or whistling. He was watching, and somehow that gaze felt louder than the crowd. Beau tapped two fingers against his own temple as he caught Colt’s eye—a salute.I see you, boy.

His friends pulled him off the stands at the end of the ceremony and passed his trophy around. They sat on his car while the rest of the crowd cleared out, sipping 99 Bananas out of tiny bottles Xavier had snuck in under his shirt and drinkingpozolestraight out of the container. It was ridiculous, maybe tacky, and Colt was so fucking lucky.

Joyce had stayed long enough to laugh at the looks on their faces after that first sip of shit liquor. Then she’d kissed Colt on the cheek, swatted his ass, andherded Camila’s parents toward the parking lot despite their protests that the party was just getting started.

When the bottles and soup container were all empty, Camila pulled Colt into a long hug and dragged the shop guys off like errant children, leaving Colt alone on the hood of his dented-ass car as the cicadas screamed in the trees now that the track was mostly vacant. He lowered himself gently onto his back with one arm behind his head and the other pressed against his chest over the wasp and took a long, deep breath. Last week was a bad dream in the wake of what he'd proven he could do today.

“You look like a deer some hunter strapped to his hood.” Beau walked up and leaned his arms against the roof of the car.

Colt tipped his head back to look at him upside down and grinned. “Prize buck right here.”

Beau smirked. “Get off the hood unless you wanna ride it into the trailer like real game. Gotta load up before they drag us out.”

“Not the kinda role play I'm into,” Colt sighed, pulling himself up and hopping off the hood. “I should probably get out of this suit anyway before it becomes a biohazard.”

“Bag's already in the truck,” Beau said as Colt tossed him the keys.

Colt tucked his hands in his pockets and walked away, weaving between the few haulers still hanging around. He'd just reached the truck when footsteps crunched behind him.

“Bet you think you're real fuckin cute,” Kendrick said, stepping out from behind a hauler. He was still wearing his suit, but it was unzipped to show a camo shirt that matched his car exactly.

“Man, you sure seem to.” Colt rolled his eyes and leaned back against Beau’s truck. “Why are you so into me? It's weird. Creeping out of the shadows like a stalker.”

“You are the mouthiest little faggot,” Kendrick snarled as he took a step forward. “You asking for an ass-whooping?”

“Dude, it's the twenty-first century.” Colt shook his head and opened the truck. “We prefer the term ‘queer’.”

“I fuckin knew it.” Kendrick stepped closer as Colt pulled out his bag.

“Yeah, yeah, I like a good dick now and then.” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Don't worry, sweetheart, I wouldn't touch your little shrimp dick with a thirty-foot pole.”

Then he turned and walked away toward the locker room. Colt had been dealing with idiots like this his whole life. He wasn't going to let some nobody who couldn't stand to lose to a rookie ruin his high.