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I grin. “Hadn’t pegged you for a gardener.”
“I’m not. Mac is though, and he wanted a little Hawaii here since he wasn’t able to do that when he was in prison.”
“Prison?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yeah, did five years in Oahu for tax evasion. I knew him from his surfing days before he got locked up, and we became good friends. Kept in contact throughout the years. One thing led to another and he started helping me with the upkeep of the bikes.”
“Nice of you,” I mutter.
“Nice has nothing to do with it, kid. The guy is good at his job, and most importantly, he keeps me on my toes on a daily basis. I need it. As you know, I can do stupid, impulsive shit.”
“He seems great, Jay. They all do.” Even Hunter, I want to add, but I don’t.
“So this is where we train,” he says, motioning to the enormous track spread out in front of us. Drew and Hunter stand at the top of one of the hills, a group of kids around them with rapt expressions on their faces as Hunter speaks. A couple of parents are watching the training from the stands on our left.
“What about Drew and Hunter?” I ask, motioning with my chin to the guys.
Jay takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his long hair before putting it on backwards again. “Drew was the first who started training with me. His parents are in the Navy and traveled a lot. When he turned eighteen, he asked if he could live here, and help out with the company. I was swamped with work so I said yes, and he’s been living here ever since. I think he moved in a month after the last time you came over,” Jay mumbles, looking at me sideways.
I swallow hard. Leaning against the fence, Hunter grabs the side of his hip, biting on his lip like he’s in pain, before he continues with his speech. “And Hunter?”
“He’s our champion, and a certified pain in my fucking ass,” Jay mumbles, tapping his knuckles on the fence. “Kid has collected more black eyes than medals.”
“I can imagine,” I snort.
“What about you, Skylar? Are you still going to New York University?” he says, sounding proud.
“I was. I’m taking a little break right now,” I state, “and it’s Sky, has been for a long time.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. “What are you going to do, Sky?”
I shrug. “I don’t know yet, and that’s okay.”
“You need money?” he asks, nudging me in the shoulder, and I can’t help but smile.
“No, I’m good—perks of having a stepfather who works on Wall Street. He knows how to set up a trust fund. Do you need money?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
He grins, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I always need money. But don’t worry, we’re doing okay.”
“Hasn’t Hunter got a lot of sponsor contracts? At least, that’s what I got from your website.”
“Yeah, he does. Vans, GoPro, and Red Bull, amongst others,” he explains.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“It should be,” he answers quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“A lot of things happened. And, fact is, people don’t want to pay for poor kids to have a life. With his pro-bono tendencies, the upkeep for the track, and him using his money to pay for every hospital bill or school supplies request getting thrown his way…” Jay sighs. “Let’s say what he earns isn’t enough to keep this place running. Makes him a freaking saint in many books. But Hunt has part of the devil in him too.”
We are quiet for a while, and I keep thinking about what Jay told me, watching the boys as they make their way up to the starting gate. Maybe the BMX rebel isn’t that bad after all?
“Hey, Hunt!” Jay yells.
Hunter looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“When you center them like that make sure you double check their feet and body placement,” he explains, “before they head down the hill.”
