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ANGIE
Riding bikes with Mac had been illuminating as his work ethic and good-naturedness hadn’t been compromised by frustration or fatigue
Coming to a stop though to lie on the beach and relax had been the better option for Angie.
Bikes scared her and she got on just because she didn't want to let Mac down or tell him why she was terrified to be on them.
The last time she'd been on a bike with Knox, he had popped a wheelie. She'd fallen off the back, breaking her arm and scraping up her shoulder. He hadn't taken her to the doctor for two days.
Riding on her own bike alongside Mac had been almost calming as he had just kept pace with her and hadn't pushed her.
Mac had driven them to the beach in his truck and Angie retrieved a blanket from the bed. Stretching out, she reveled in the warmth soaking through the soft terry cloth. She drifted in and out of sleep and then, with the sun high in the sky, her phone beeped. A text had come in.
Angie rolled to her side, casting a shadow across her phone and swiping the screen.
A text from Knox. Why couldn’t she be free of him already?
“I'm spending a traveler's check every day until Des Nations. Get him to drop out. Or I'm spending it all.”
Angie’s stomach roiled. What was wrong with him? That was all of her money. He was probably mad to find out she’d been holding out on him. Did that justify the way he was treating her? Part of her – the part he had crushed into no self-esteem thought so. The old Angie didn’t think so.
Rather than text, she called him.
“Are you done spreading your legs for him?” Knox answered, his words slurred. He'd been drinking and when he drank he was mean and usually with another girl. His infidelity was a part of him, like his hair color or his eyes.
Angie blinked back tears. “Why are you doing this? Give me my stuff. You know we don’t belong together, Knox. I don’t care about the other girls or anything. I’m tired of your games. I just want my stuff.”
Knox chortled, the sound loud through the phone. “Little girl, that's not how we play this. You're going to do what I told you to do or I'm going to spend everything. It's that simple.”
Angie stood, anger mounting through her so fast she couldn’t stay on the blanket. “Knox. Enough. Give me my money. Where are you?” Hot sand squished between her toes, burning the soft skin. She paced back to the safety of the towel.
“I'm not telling you that. You get Mac Hudson to drop out of Des Nations, or don't bother coming back. When I see you at the races, that will be your chance to get your things back. Maybe I'm spending the money, maybe I'm not. If you can get him to drop out before, I'll give you everything you need.” He hung up.
Staring at the dead phone, Angie waited for it to ring. Would he call her back? Would he taunt her more? Give her a clue of where she could find him. The phone didn’t ring and she slowly lowered it to her side.
Angie turned and stared at the ocean. The waves tossed white caps down to the beach, sucking back as they got as far as each wave could. What if she walked into the water? Just kept walking and never looked back. She’d never see her parents again. That wasn’t good enough for her. The only way she could see her parents was if she got her money and personal artifacts back.
What if she did get Mac to drop out of the races? What if she just nudged him in the direction of staying with this dad? It wouldn’t be hard to do and probably was better for him in the long run. He’d get to see his dad and wouldn’t waste time messing with people like Knox or the other racers.
Did it make her a bad person that she didn’t want to have anything to do with dirt bike racing ever again?
