Page 19 of Surge

“We…” he stammered. “We had a deal.”

I leaned away from him, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right, we did have a deal. But, just like you changed the deal on Ava, I’ve decided to change the terms of our deal as well.”

A sudden awareness came to him. “I swear, if you lay one finger on me, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”

“Uh huh,” I said, staring into his eyes. I glared at him for another second or two and then looked at the guys. “Untie him.”

In less than a minute, they’d freed him from the restraints. Once they had, I gestured for him to stand.

“Is that better?”

Gene glanced in both directions, looking at my friends. Afterward, he turned his attention back towards me.

“Is what better?”

“I mean, now that you’re untied, you’ve got a chance to defend yourself. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Another difficult swallow forced its way down Gene’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, unlike you, Gene, I don’t fight dirty. I believe in giving a man a chance to face his enemies.”

Gene backed away from me, bumping against the chair. “I meant what I said. If you lay a finger on me, I’ll take you straight to court.”

I nodded and rubbed my hands together once again.

“The thing about court, Gene, is that in order to prove a case like this, you’re gonna need witnesses.”

I gestured with my chin towards the exit. Afterward, my friends began to leave the room.

“Wait,” Gene begged. “I, um, I promise—I won’t do anything. I swear. I won’t bother Simon, and Ava will never hear from me again.”

I took off my shirt and tossed it to one side.

“I know you won’t. Believe me, I know that.”

What happened over the next few minutes isn’t exactly what I would call a fair fight. But sometimes, people just need to be taught a lesson. Over the years I’d been threatened with lawsuits before. Nothing ever came of them, and I had a hard time believing that any lawyer would take on the case of a dirtball like Gene. Anyway, I hadn’t punched a man in quite a while, and to be honest it felt good.

Coming up as a kid I always had a reputation as a brawler. It never bothered me. I always saw it as an advantage on the track. If another driver crossed me, he knew I’d meet up with him later, and we’d handle it. But, as much as it served me well coming up through the ranks, by the time I reached Formula One, it was a thing of the past.

Funny how a sport where you’re expected to drive at a speed that can kill you in the blink of an eye, they expect you to live like a mama’s boy otherwise. By the time I’d finished knocking Gene into next week, I glanced down at my hands. They were already red and beginning to swell. He lay there, semi-motionless and groaning.

I picked up my shirt and put it back on.

“Hey, look at me,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Over here.”

Gene rolled up onto one side and squinted at me through half-opened eyes.

I pointed in the direction of the door. “If I ever hear another peep about you threatening her in any way, you’ll wish I’d killed you. Understand?”

Gene managed a sorry excuse for a nod.

“I want to hear it from your mouth,” I snarled. “Say it.”

Gene wheezed and coughed a bit, rolling in place on the floor as he struggled for breath. “I… I pr-promise. N-never ag… again.”

A few seconds later, I exited and passed by my friends who’d kept watch by the door.

“Get him out of here.”

They nodded and headed back inside, while I continued on my way towards the table where Ava waited for me. As I approached, her mouth fell open and her eyes bulged. She pointed in the direction of my hands.

“What happened?” she gasped, pointing at me. “Your hands—they’re red. Is that… blood?”

I motioned for her to stand. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

She shook her head as she looked up at me. “No, Dyson, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what happened.”

“I’ll tell you everything, but right now we need to leave.”

Ava shook her head in disgust, but rather than argue, she did as I asked and followed me.

AVA

In the days following what happened between Dyson and Gene, I worried quite a bit. I didn’t bother getting into it with Dyson about what went on in the back room of the bar. His hands told me everything I needed to know.

Even so, I called home and talked to Jillian several times. Deep down, I still had no idea what Gene was capable of. But time after time, Jillian assured me she hadn’t heard anything from him. Further, no one from the state called about Simon. It was almost like the whole episode with Gene never even happened.

For his part, Dyson seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing. He picked up with testing the very next day, no worse for wear. I hung around them afterward, more than I ever had before, and in spite of the fact nearly everyone on the team was at the bar, none of them mentioned a word of it.

In a strange way, I felt protected by all of them. I knew what happened to Gene wasn’t right, but the truth was, he was an awful person. Neither Simon nor I deserved to be a pawn in his sadistic game. And so, it probably goes without saying that I began to feel close to Dyson—closer than I had to any man in a long time.

I didn’t know whether or not he might have been feeling the same way towards me, but I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Anastasia or Svetlana hanging around. Of course, I didn’t ask him about it. It wasn’t like we were hooking up. I figured they’d show up sooner or later, and when they did I’d get my usual threats.

One afternoon, after the team finished testing and doing some work on the cars, Dyson came to the team trailer where I was finishing up some paperwork. He entered, knocking on the door at the same time.

I glanced up at him. He stood there, casually leaning against the open door with his hand hooked over the top of it. Dyson’s hair was damp, his skin streaked with grease and dust. Without thinking, I licked my lips, and our eyes met. Covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, he nodded at me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“I’m starving. You hungry?”

“Yeah. I mean, I could eat. I’ve just got some stuff to finish up here first.”

Dyson let go of the door. “Great, I’ll grab a shower, and we’ll go get something. Sound good?”

I smiled at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Dyson chuckled. “It’s only a date if I bring flowers. I’m not a flower type of guy.”

I shook my head and grinned. “All right then, I guess we’ll just call it dinner.”

Dyson nodded his head, “I’ll be back in thirty.”

“Okay, see you then.”

With that, he turned and closed the door behind him as he left.

About an hour or so later, we arrived at probably the nicest restaurant I’d ever seen. Growing up, if we ever ate at a restaurant that had a second fork on the table, we felt privileged. When we sat down at the table, they asked me what kind of water I wanted. Before I could answer, they gave me four choices. Tap water wasn’t one of them, but I asked for it anyway.

“A little too upscale for you?” Dyson began, clearly enjoying himself.

I flashed a sarcastic smile at him. “Give me a break. Don’t act like you grew up eating like this. I’m quite sure that there are no restaurants like this in Pomona.”

He leaned back in his chair, tossing his arm over it. “How do you know? Have you ever been to Pomona?”

“No,” I said, leaning over the table and pointing at him. “But I’ve seen some of the stuff you eat, and I know they don’t serve it here.”

He chuckled and raised his index finger to his lips. “Don’t tell Darren about that. He’s always worried I’m gonna be too heavy for the car.”

I gestured towards the bread basket at the center of the table.

“Better steer clear of that, chubby,” I said, giggling and reaching for it. I pulled it just out of his reach. “We wouldn’t want your love handles keeping you from getting in the car.”

“You finished?”

I let go of the basket and smiled at him. “For now, yeah, I think so.”

Dyson winked at me and looked up, towards the other side of the restaurant. A second later, he raised the arm that was draped over the back of his chair, gesturing for someone to approach. I looked away and picked up the menu. Opening it, I began to scan some of the choices, when I heard him speak once again.

“How are you?” he said.

Before I glanced up from the menu, I heard the response.

“Excellent, sir, how are you and your lovely companion doing this evening?”

Just then, I drew my eyes upward and saw him. A tall, slender man, easily more than six feet, stood next to the table. In his hand, he held a basket filled with at least one hundred long-stemmed roses. By then, the subtle fragrance of the flowers made their way to my nose. Realizing what was happening, I glanced towards Dyson.

His focus never wavered from the man.

“How much?” he asked, leaning back and sliding his hand into his pocket. A split second later, Dyson produced a big stack of bills.

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