Camden by Shey Stahl

 

You think I’m an asshole, don’t you?

Admit it. I won’t hold it against you, but I know for a fact it won’t be the last time you think this. Just ask my dad. Or River, for that matter.

Actually, you might not want to ask River on this one or you’re going to get an earful.

Hungover and not particularly awake, I stare out at the rocky dirt mounds of the hills of Palmdale where I ride with Roan, sighing. I didn’t say anything on the drive here, disinterested and grumpy.

“You okay?” Roan asks, always aware. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

I nod, but don’t give him a reason as to why I’m acting… I don’t know, off? I want to scream, shout, destroy something. Anything. Myself for the way I’ve acted. She has every right to be angry with me. I hate me.

He pushes though, leans into his handlebars and regards me once more. We’ve been out here for hours this morning, and I haven’t said a word to him.

“All right, kid, you gotta give me something here.”

I look over at him, the sun in my eyes and my heart beating a million miles an hour. River’s voicemail this morning replaying in my head. Between tears she whispered, “Promise breaker.”

Pain stabs my chest. My jaw clenches and I bite the inside of my cheek, still unsure why I couldn’t go. I tried, I did. I was in my truck, ready to go, and then stopped. For reasons I don’t know.

No, I know why. Lying to myself is just me being a pussy.

“Where were you last night?”

With unsteady hands, I run one through my hair after removing my helmet. I sit, stare, and contemplate what I might say to him. My stomach rolls, my head pounding. Where was I last night?

Alone. Gutless. Drunk. Torn. Powerless.

All of the above.

I spent the night by myself, wishing I had the balls to show up and knowing I didn’t. I couldn’t, didn’t want to face her again while Tiller was there. Not after the other night. I also knew that had I showed up, she would have done what she does best and got me alone.

Was I ready for that?

No.

So, I did what I do best. Disappeared.

“Couldn’t go,” I admit under my breath and put my helmet back on.

Roan shrugs, as if he knows this isn’t something I want to talk about. I want the quiet that being on a bike gives me.

On a track, I face my demons alone. A place where a boy and his volatile father don’t exist. A place where a boy learned that on two wheels and deep ruts, nothing can touch him out there.

My old man, he’s an asshole. You know that, and I will never, ever, be like him. Hell, I’d love to go so far as to say he doesn’t want to be that way either, but, nearing fifty with no change in sight, I can’t imagine that’s the case.

Why didn’t I speak up?

I couldn’t. I was just a kid and kept my mouth shut. I’d lie awake at night, praying for the day when he didn’t resent me, and knowing it’d never come. If I get good grades, he’ll be proud. If I win, he’ll be proud, but that never came either.

I’m not wrecked. Wobbly at times, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of that.

Maybe he hated his life, and in turn, me for it. And even after the non-existent years when a father turns his boy into a man, I still, even now, forgive him because he didn’t know any better. He brought me up the way he was raised.

But at ten, I found a better life. I found my own way in a world of motocross, madness, and the men who showed me what it was like to be single-minded, driven, and loved.

Now where am I?

Lost.

 

 

Two-stroke racing fuel and loud music fill the silence around me. That and Scarlet’s insistent chatter. I love her, but she never shuts up. Probably because she’s mad at me.

One of her many questions asked today? “Why are you being such a bitch?”

When I don’t answer, she slaps me upside the head as I’m sitting outside my trailer, sweat soaking my body; I wish I wasn’t anywhere anyone could find me. It’s been two weeks since River’s party and I still have yet to call her. She stopped calling too, and, I imagine, she hates me. In truth, I hate myself even more.

“I’m not.” I run a rag over my face, sighing. “You just don’t get it.”

“I do though.” Scarlet plops down beside me in a canvas chair, Sloane, her youngest daughter, on her lap. “You love her and you’re mad about it. You let her down.”

Okay, maybe she does understand. “I am not mad about it.” I deny it because Scarlet doesn’t need to know about what has or hasn’t happened between me and River.

“Bullshit.” Sloane looks back at her mom, curiously, her blonde curly locks sticking out from under Shade’s hat she has on backwards. Scarlet carefully covers her ears with her hands. “Don’t repeat that.”

I smile at Sloane who removes herself from Scarlet’s lap toward Shade, who surfaces from the crowd with Ariah and Tallulah in tow. I watch him holding his kids close while still maintaining the badass image he projects to the fans. Not many people can achieve that, but Shade does. You know who else is here? Aside from Scarlet?

Not River, not Roan, but fucking Tiller. He’s sitting next to me now so I can’t exactly say what I’m thinking, or that I’m worried my friendship with River is over. He’s already given me an earful on my decision to skip out on her birthday.

There’s a girl next to me; I’m signing her chest and then Scarlet pipes up with, “Remember when you had a crush on me?”

I toss the Sharpie in my hand at her face and then reach for the Red Bull next to me. “No, I don’t recall that.”

She slaps me on the shoulder. That’s when I notice she’s wearing a hair tie around her wrist. Probably for when she’s sucking Shade’s dick later. “Bullshit,” she snaps. “You know damn well you had a crush on me.”

I did; you know this already.

“Yeah, ya did Cam-Man.” Tiller rolls his eyes, smacking me in the back of the head. “Don’t be a pussy, pull the fucking triple,” he says to me.

I eye Scarlet carefully when Tiller gets up and walks the other way, inside the trailer and away from the prying eyes of the media asking why he’s not performing today, or where River is. In fact, River disappeared two days ago before Australia. She didn’t show up at the event. Some say she’s in Talladega with Gray, others say she’s still in California. I don’t know, and I’m afraid to ask and give away my intentions. That I care. That I miss her, and that I’m devastated with myself. Still, I don’t go into my real problems because Scarlet can’t keep a secret. I bet she tells River everything I say to her.

“You did have a crush on me,” Scarlet adds, grinning.

“What’s the point of this conversation?”

Her lips flatten into a hard line and she pushes her hair from her face, trying to get strands out of her mouth. “That I know you.”

“I was ten. And you know, if you used a hair tie, you wouldn’t eat your hair.”

“Uh, no, you weren’t. More like ten until last year. And Shade only likes me to put my hair up when I’m sucking his dick. The rest of the time he likes me wild and free.”

I choke on my Red Bull, but in reality, I’m not surprised. We have an open relationship and she tells me way more than I need to know. “That was back before you popped three kids out of your pussy,” I mumble crudely, winking at her as we stand side by side in the shade of the Red Bull tent.

It takes her a minute to comprehend what I said but when she does, she’s instantly offended. “Camden Jerad Rivera! Watch your goddamn mouth.”

It’s not long after that, maybe minutes, Tiller returns and glares at me. “You hurt my girl’s feelings.”

I smile and draw it out a little longer. “Where’s Wyatt?”

He gets in my face. Actually, he draws me to his face. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do?”

He throws me back into the chair I was sitting in. “You do.”

“I… was busy,” I offer, knowing it’s not an excuse, but it’s what I have. River deserves a better answer, and I intend on giving her one if she ever talks to me again.

“Then you need to fucking call her, pussy.”

I nod, straightening out my jersey. “I will.”

But can I? Will she even take my apology?