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“Try bar.”
I could only assume she meant the bar where Dyson took care of Gene not long ago. I asked her about it, but whether she was just being difficult or she didn’t know, Anastasia wouldn’t give me a straight answer.
Frustrated, I turned away from her.
“If Dyson comes back, have him call me. It’s really important because…”
The door to the motor coach slammed shut before I could finish my sentence. Shaking my head at their stupid behavior, I thought back to the insult the Grid Girls hurled at me in Miami.
I turned towards the motor coach again.
“Cunts!”
DYSON
“So what the hell is going on with you, man?” Marco said.
I was in the middle of drinking my beer when he asked me the question. The carbonation caused me to burp.
“Hmm?” I grumbled, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you wanted me to meet you here. I assume it’s because of the meeting you had with Dieter and Darren this morning.”
“How did you hear about that?”
Marco looked away from me. He fixed his gaze on a group of men playing pool about ten feet away from us, which happened to include Gunter and his stupid entourage of butt kissers.
I nudged Marco and spoke.
“Hey bro, I asked you a question. How did you hear about that meeting?”
Marco picked up his beer and took a healthy swig. He turned in my direction, frowning.
“How would I not hear about it, Dyson? We’re teammates.”
I shook my head, looking away from him and towards my beer. Lifting it to my mouth, I gestured in Gunter’s direction before I drank.
“Look at that idiot. I’m ten times the driver he is, and everyone knows it.”
Marco scoffed at me.
I placed my drink down on the bar. “You got something you want to say, Marco?”
He swallowed a gulp and looked in my direction. Running his tongue along his teeth with his mouth closed, he nodded.
“Yeah, actually Dyson, I do.”
I narrowed my eyes at him but didn’t speak.
Marco pointed in Gunter’s direction. “Do you want to know why he wins so much?”
“Sure, man. Tell me. I’m all ears.”
Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“It’s real simple. The reason Gunter wins is because he has everything working like a well-oiled machine. No one questions your talent, Dyson. But winning at this level is not all about talent. You have to work hard, and you have to have a plan.”
I looked away from him, staring at Gunter once again.
“Man, that’s bullshit, I’m a hard worker, and you know it.”
Marco remained silent for a second before he slapped me on the back.
“I’m not saying you don’t work hard. What I’m saying is that as teammates, you and I shouldn’t be looking to blame Gunter for our failures. Instead, we should be trying to dissect what that team does well and apply it to what we’re doing, so we can beat them on a consistent basis.”
Part of what Marco said made sense. But, the truth was I’d been drinking most of the day, so I only half-listened. And right then I was in no mood to talk strategy. No sooner had Marco finished speaking than Gunter turned and looked at me.
“Do you have a problem, Dyson?” Gunter said, slapping his pool stick in the palm of his hand.
I stared at him without saying a word. Picking up my beer, I took a drink.
“Easy, Dyson,” Marco began, gesturing towards Gunter’s friends. “Don’t start anything in here. We’re outnumbered.”
Ignoring Marco, I raised my hand in Gunter’s direction and gave him the universal sign for go fuck yourself.
“Shit, man…” Marco said, slamming down the rest of his beer with two huge gulps.
Gunter headed straight towards us, his flunkies bringing up the rear. Like Marco, I pounded my drink. The bartender, noticing Gunter’s approach, spread his arms wide.
“Take it outside, guys.”
Ignoring him, I stood from my stool. Seconds later, Gunter closed on me, winding up in my face. Whether Marco was ready for it or not, this fight had been brewing between us for months.
Sometimes, you just have to settle things the old-fashioned way.
“You’ll never beat me, Dyson,” Gunter began, rolling up his sleeves. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s on the track or in here, right now. I’m better than you in every way. It’s about time you learned that once and for all.”
While he rambled, I took off my shirt.
“Dyson,” Marco began, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. “It’s ten versus two. There’s no way.”
I nodded at him and then turn towards Gunter.
“Just us, right? You promise you’ll keep your boys out of it?”
“Absolutely,” Gunter replied.
Before either Marco or I said another word, Gunter turned around towards all of them and muttered something in whatever language it was he spoke. Afterward, he looked at me again.
A crooked smile came to his mouth.
“Let’s do this,” I said, raising my fists in front of my face.
“Jesus,” I heard Marco mutter from behind me.
“What did I say?” The bartender began, increasing the volume of his voice. “Take. It. Outside.”
I turned to say something to him. But, before I uttered a single word, the unmistakable feel of bone against flesh invaded my awareness. Gunter took a cheap shot and coldcocked me. I staggered back, reaching up towards the site of the strike. My eyes watered and I blinked, trying to regain my focus on him. Before I could completely reorient myself, Gunter lowered his head and dove for my midsection.
I staggered back, banging into a cocktail table a few feet behind me. Momentum wasn’t on my side, and before I realized it, he’d pinned me beneath him and started to throw punches left and right.
I shielded my face from the strikes for a few seconds until I saw an opening. Taking it, I landed a single punch right to his jaw, sending him off of me and into a heap on the floor. I scrambled to my feet. Looking around, I noticed everyone crowded around us.
“Get up, let’s go,” I said, glaring down at him.
Gunter lunged for me again. But this time, I sidestepped him and dropped an elbow into the back of his neck. He yelled and hit the floor, sliding to a stop where he remained motionless. A couple of his boys went to try and help him, while the rest of them surrounded Marco and me.
I pointed at Gunter’s boys. “Back off mother fuckers! This is between us!”
Almost before I finished speaking, all eight of them jumped Marco and me. We did our best to hold them off, but it wasn’t long before I blacked out after a flurry of punches.
AVA
About an hour after I talked to Anastasia and Svetlana, I pulled up in front of the bar. After heading inside a couple of minutes later, I looked around and didn’t see any sign of Dyson.
Frustrated, I walked out through a side entrance to clear my head. Somehow I had to find Dyson and make him understand how close he was to being dismissed from the team. At the same time, I began to wonder if my own future with the team hinged on being able to pull that off.
As I exited, I exhaled and dropped my head.
Think, Ava think. There has to be a way. You know this is something you can handle.
And then, in the midst of that thought, something caught my attention out of my peripheral vision. I turned, and covered my mouth at the sight. On the ground, dirty and bloodied, Marco and Dyson lay side-by-side, unconscious.
“Oh my God!” I gasped, rushing towards them.
Within seconds, I knelt between the racers, looking from one to the other to try and figure out what happened. Without any clear evidence, I assumed they’d been in a fight. But with whom? Each other? Some random people in the bar?
Right away, I realized it didn’t really matter, because if it was discovered Dyson had been in a situation like this, I had no doubt he’d be off the team.
Over the next few minutes I did my best to try and wake them up. Eventually, they both stirred to awareness. When they did, I leaned away, covering my nose.
Both of them reeked of alcohol.
“Ohhh… Oh no,” I muttered.
The two men managed to get into semi-seated positions.
“Dyson,” I began, clapping my hands together to get his attention. “Dyson! What happened?”
He waved me off, wincing and holding his head in his hand. I turned my attention to Marco and asked him the same question. While I spoke, Marco attempted to stand.
“Marco,” I began, reaching out to try and support him. “Wait, don’t, that’s not a good idea.”
Before I could help him, Marco’s legs wobbled, and he tumbled backwards, falling into a row of trash cans. The impact made a terrific noise. He groaned and cussed, struggling to free himself of the mountain of garbage he’d fallen into. I scrambled to my feet, rushing towards him. Reaching for Marco’s forearm, I grabbed hold of it and leaned in the other direction.
“Can you get up?” I asked.
I was far too small and light to pull Marco up on my own. After two failed attempts, I sensed Dyson’s presence behind me. Turning my head towards him, I looked up. He moved me aside and reached a hand for his teammate, at last pulling him out of the debris. Still trying to wrap my head around what happened, I looked at both of them.
“Why are you out here? Whose blood is that? Yours? Someone else’s?”
