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I wait, hearing nothing but static in the background.
“Pickle,” his voice floods my ear, and I inhale a breath of relief.
“Col, what's going on? You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, Pickle. Good. I'm-I'm good. Really good. I need to talk to you. I'm good. I need to t-talk to you. Good.”
He's nervous. I can literally hear him rocking and twisting his fingers as he speaks.
“What's up? What are you doing?” I ask calmly.
“I need a pit crew. Pit crew. I'm working on my car. The car. I'm working on my car, but the crew. I need a pit crew.”
My eyes find Lake's and his brow raises as he watches my expression change from nervous to calm to confused. I can tell he's trying to read me. His concern has him locked into my conversation.
“Pit crew?” I murmur into the receiver.
“Yeah. Pit crew. They need me to fill in my pit crew on the form.”
“Wh-what? What are you filling out, Colin? Where are you?”
“Home. I'm home. The races. I'm filling out the papers for the race. Samantha called and said I needed to bring my papers in to the center tomorrow if I'm to sign up for the races.”
“Oh, fuck!” I yell out, then slap my mouth to cover it with my palm.
I'd been so mesmerized by the dick lately, I'd completely forgotten about the race.
Lake's brows both raise humorously as he points to himself, and I flash him a rude hand gesture back. He stands from the blue mat, straightening his pants and shirt before lurking towards me.
Not now, sexy beast.
“I was going to take the bus and drop it off. Drop it off at the center before work. I have to do it before work. Drop it off. Drop it off at the center before tomorrow. Tomorrow at the center, Samantha said.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Uh, just...leave the paperwork there. We can finish filling it out tonight, and I'll drop it over to her in the morning. You just get ready for work like normal. Okay?” I say, my forefinger and thumb resting on my pounding temples.
Looking down at the floor, I rack my mind for a way to move shit around in our accounts to pay for the entry to this race. We don't even have the funds for the entry, nor the money for the pedal kart needed for the race itself.
I can pick up a shift at a bar.
Maybe Katia can watch Colin a few nights a week since she's so close?
I can give plasma early before work.
Money. More money. How can I get it?
As I'm casually thinking about selling pictures of my feet to freaks online, the phone gets snatched from my face.
“Col?” Lake says into the receiver. “Hey buddy, it's Lake.”
I go to snatch it back from him when he puts a hand on my forehead, holding my head back like he's holding out a football in his grasp. I swing for him, but his wingspan…
“Yeah? I heard!” he says excitedly.
I twist in his grasp to the point where he can't turn his wrist any further and free myself from his hold. He backs up until he's near the massage table, where he hops up, planting a seat, his arm still out, holding me back.
“Don't worry, Col, we're gonna get you signed up for that race. Me and Pickle are on it.”
