Monkey Business -4- Smile! - by Melanie Brown (Patreon)

Monkey Business Part 4

By

Melanie Brown
Copyright © 2023

Shocked, I stared at Colin. “How can you say that?” Colin just grinned at me.

The photographer flashed me a smile. “You two certainly make a cute couple.” She hung the camera around her neck and picked up a clipboard she also had hanging around her neck. “So, sweetie, can I have your name? It’s so I can tag your picture correctly.”

Still frowning at Colin, I said, “It’s Randy.”

The photographer nodded and said as she wrote my name out, “R… a… n… d… i. Got it.” She then pointed at Colin, “And your name?”

Smiling broadly, he said, “I’m Colin.”

The photographer said, “Gotcha.  Okay, miss. Let me get a few close-ups of you. I love the way your hair looks. Serious racer, but still so feminine.”

Still caked with mud, I stood straight and smiled at the camera. She had me put my helmet back on for a couple of shots.

The photographer said, “Just a few more. How about a few shots of you on your bike?”

As I straddled the 250, Colin piped up, “That’s actually my bike.”

As she got a few more shots, grinning, the photographer said, “Racing the boyfriend’s bike. That’s so romantic!” She chuckled. Writing something on her clipboard, the photographer said, “That’s all I need. Thanks!” She started to turn away but stopped.

“Oh! One more thing. This should be a great shot. Colin. Go stand next to your girl. Put your arm around her. Yeah, like that. Perfect. Randi, hold your trophy. Colin, give your girl a kiss. These should look great. Thanks again.” The photographer turned and walked away from us.

I scowled at Colin. “You kissed me! What the fuck, man?” I rubbed my gloved finger against my lips, tasting leather and mud.

Grinning, he pointed at the retreating figure of the photographer. “She told me to.”

“Don’t do it again!” I exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re very pretty, Randi. You’re hard to resist.” He grinned at me.

“I’m not a girl. So stop already.”

Colin shook his head. “If I walked around the track and asked people if you were a boy or a girl, everyone would say you’re a girl.”

I frowned at Colin. “And if I asked everyone if you’re an idiot or not…”

Before I could finish my statement, Colin’s dad shouted, “Colin! Leave the girl alone. Let’s get your bike loaded up and go. Your mother’s already making dinner.”

Colin pointed over at his dad and laughed. “See? Catcha around.”

I folded my arms and watched him walk away, pushing his bike.

From behind me, Nick shouted, “If you’re through playing around with your boyfriend, we need to go.”

Furious, I walked towards Nick’s truck. “Will you please stop?”

*  *  *

“Son. I need to leave for work in a minute, but I have to ask a few questions?” Dad took a drink of his coffee as he sat at the kitchen table while reading the local news on his cell phone. Mom stood behind him and chuckled.

Feeling a sense of dread, I stopped pouring cereal into my bowl. “Whatcha need to know, Dad?”

Dad started to turn his phone towards me. Mom grinned and said, “Where’d you get those pink leathers, hon? You look cute.” Holy shit! I didn’t know the track would send those pictures to the newspaper.

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well… I… uh…”

Mom squinted at the article. “Randi Gardner took a break from being Nick Wilson’s monkey to try racing on her own. In fierce competition, Ms. Gardner managed to snag second place overall as well as a kiss from her long-time boyfriend Colin Stewart.”

“Well… uh… I…”

Dad squinted one eye at me. “Racing bikes. Kissing boys. No wonder you’re always tired on the weekends.”

Sounding nervous, I said, “Hey. It’s not what it looks like.”

Scowling, Mom said, “What it looks like is that you’ve been racing when we’ve forbidden it.”

Dad shook his head. “And I told you I thought he was a twink.”

Mom looked at the pictures on the phone and then back up at me. “Is that you kissing Colin? I knew you were sweet on him.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “He’s kissing me. I’m not kissing him!”

Dad looked down his nose at me. “Is there a difference?”

Feeling exasperated. “Well, yeah. It’s who initiated it.”

Mom frowned at me. “But you’ve been racing?”

I looked down at the floor. No point in trying to lie about it.  “Yes.”

Mom frowned deeply. “Even though we told you not to.”

Anger deep inside me flared up. “Yes! Yes, I raced. Telling me I couldn’t was because of a stupid accident at a BMX race. On bicycles! And it was a fluke. Colin crashed at the same time, and he now races motocross. I’m not a child anymore!”

Mom took a seat next to Dad and looked again at the pictures on his device. She asked. “So you want to race?”

I set my knuckles down at the table across from my parents. My eyes bright. “More than anything, Mom!”

Mom folded her arms. “Short of tying you up, I can see that we can’t really keep you away from it. I don’t think you should be rewarded for disobeying us. So here’s my proposal. You can openly race but with this condition. You race as a girl. You’re practically doing that already. When you’re at the track, you must present as a girl.”

“Mom! That’s crazy. It’s bad enough I get mistaken for a girl already!” I protested.

Mom scowled at me. “Do you want to race?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

Mom sighed. “Then those are my rules.”

*  *  *

Nick laughed, which was not the reaction I had hoped for after telling him what Mom said.  “That’s not a big deal. You already look like a girl to everyone.”

Frowning, I said, “I was hoping you’d be more on my side.”

Nick chuckled. “I am on your side. Anyway, you need to go put your leathers on.”

I looked at Nick questioningly. “Why? It’s Wednesday. There’s no racing today.”

Nick nodded. “That’s right. I called you over here so you can do something for me and for yourself. Go change.”

I shook my head. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Nick grinned. “You’re going downtown for a photo shoot. The track wants to center an ad campaign around you.”

“Nothin’ doin’, man!” I exclaimed. “I’m not doing it. That kind of shit requires my consent, and I’m not consenting.”

Nick’s expression turned serious. “You will, or you’re done racing with me.”

I frowned at Nick. “You’re joking. You need me to race sidehack.”

Nick shrugged. “Not really. Colin volunteered to take your place. He said sidehack racing is too dangerous for a girl. I don’t really believe that, but there it is.”

“I’m not a girl,” I said flatly.

“Did you see those pictures this morning?” asked Nick with a slight smile.

Frowning, I said, “Yeah. I saw them.”

Nick chuckled. “Spencer told me he got a call from some women’s magazine that wants to use that picture for the cover of their upcoming women in sports issue. Tell me again how you’re not a girl?”

I folded my arms. “I’m not a girl. Those people are crazy.”

Looking serious again, Nick said, “Crazy or not, I’m serious about replacing you with Colin if you don’t go to the photo shoot. Now go change.”

Something told me Nick wasn’t fooling around. He wants a sponsor, and this was an easy way for him to get it. Plus, there was money in it for me. All I had to do was wear my pink leathers and pose. Not like I had to kiss anyone.

*  *  *

“There she is…” exclaimed Spencer as Nick and I walked into the photography studio, me in my pink leathers. On the way over, Nick had explained to me how racing is Spencer Adams’ passion and advertising is his profession. So supposedly, he knows what he’s doing.

Spencer walked up to me wearing a wide grin. He shook my hand but didn’t try to squeeze it. “Thank you so much for coming today, darlin’. As you can see, things are a bit busy here. Just go back there to see Suzie. She’ll brush your hair out nice and do your make-up.”

“Make-up?” I don’t want to wear make-up.

Spencer said, “As beautiful as you are, you don’t need much. It’s for the cameras and lights.”

The room was a bit crowded as I looked around. I was surprised to see Johnny Mueller all suited up. He graduated last year. All American. Going to college on a football scholarship. There was a lot of talk about NFL and all that. I guess he was getting some publicity photos, or maybe it was for an ad. Who knows?

As I started walking down the hall to find Suzie, Johnny pointed at me in my pink leathers and asked, “Can I get some pictures taken with her?”

Spencer grinned. “That could make for some cute pictures. Randi, hurry. Go see Suzie. This is going to be a fun morning.”

I hurried down the hall and found Suzie sitting in a small room. She looked up at me with a smile. “You must be Randi. Have a seat.”

She studied me for a moment, chewing on the end of a make-up brush. She said, “You’re a natural beauty, so you don’t need much make-up. But I want to make your eyes pop.” She started rummaging around her brushes. I’m not sure I want my eyes to pop. Is that permanent?

As Suzie started applying eyeliner to me, I thought I’d try to distract myself from what she was doing. I said, “I’m surprised to see Johnny Mueller here. What’s he up to?”

Suzie paused a moment. She smiled, “Oh, do you know Johnny?”

I smiled at her. “Yeah. I went to school with him. He graduated last year.”

She started applying mascara. I did not like this at all. “He’s cute, isn’t he? Did you date him?”

Horrified by the thought, I said, “Oh, no. No. He only dated cheerleaders.” That was true, but why did I say it that way?

She added blush to my cheeks. “That happens a lot, doesn’t it? I bet you were cuter than any cheerleader.”

Stunned by what she said, I replied, “I seriously doubt it.”

She applied a little lipstick and leaned back. “There. I’m done, and you girl are gorgeous. Go on back to Spencer.”

Embarrassed by Suzie’s comment, I hurried back to the main room. On my return, Johnny looked down at me and smiled. I couldn’t believe how much taller than me he was.

Johnny said, “Didn’t I know you? We went to the same school, right? You were a cheerleader?”

I smiled weakly at him. “We went to school together. But I wasn’t a cheerleader.”

He ruffled my hair. “You should have been. Are you in college?”

I laughed. “I’m going to start my senior year this fall.”

He shook his head. “Bummer. I have a strict rule of only dating college chicks.” He looked at me and gave a low whistle. “But it’s not that strict.” He laughed. Oh great.

I said, “Well, you don’t want to break your own rules.”

He studied me a moment. “I remember you now. I asked a friend about you. You know what that stupid bastard said?” I shook my head. “He said he thought you were a dude. What an idiot, huh? I guess it wouldn’t have mattered since I was dating Diane then. But still.” He ruffled my hair again.

Spencer approached us. He said, “Okay, Johnny. We got some great shots for the ads. But let’s get a few quick, fun pics of you with Randi.” He had us stand next to each other, with me looking quite literally up at Johnny and he looking down. He handed me a football to hold.

Johnny is really tall. There was a shot with Johnny wearing my pink helmet perched on top of his head, as there was no way he could squeeze his head in. And I wore his football helmet, which engulfed my head.

Just before Johnny had to leave, Spencer set up a few very embarrassing pictures. One had Johnny on one knee holding a flower out to me with me acting demure. One with Johnny resting his chin on my head with his arms around me. And finally, one of me kissing his cheek.

Just before he left, I got a big hug from Johnny, and he said next time he was in town, he wanted to hook up. I just smiled at him and wished him luck on his upcoming season.

Finally, Spencer started concentrating on my photo shoot. Suzie touched up my make-up, and then we got serious about taking pictures. It actually went pretty quick. I had a few poses of me just standing or looking like I was pointing at something. And one where I was holding a big plastic container of motor oil. Spencer thought all the pictures were wonderful. In an hour, we were done.

“Well done, Randi!” exclaimed Spencer. “I wish my professional models were as easy to work with as you. You actually listen, and you’re gorgeous.”

Embarrassed, I said, “Thank you, sir. I was worried at first about doing this, but I had a lot of fun.”

Spencer grinned. “I had fun working with you. And Nick as well.” He took a few pictures of me posing with Nick with our ‘race faces’ on…whatever the hell that meant. I guess we did it right. Spencer mentioned he would need some models soon to shoot ads for local dress stores. That would be crazy. He didn’t accept my answer of no.

As we exited the studio, Nick asked, “Hey, you want to grab some lunch? We’re near several good places.”

I unzipped my leathers a bit. “Actually, I want to get out of these leathers. It’s getting kinda hot in here.”

Nick nodded. “We’ll grab something to go and head back to my house.”

I shook my head. “No Nick. That just means you’ll be paying my way again.”

Nick smirked. “It’s no big deal. Like I’ve said before, pretty girls don’t pay.”

I sighed. “I should just give up.”

Chuckling, Nick said, “Yes.”

*  *  *

“About time you got here,” said Nick, just slightly angry. He was attaching his bike trailer to his pickup. The sun was just cracking the horizon.

“Sorry,” I said with a yawn. “I was just really tired. How far away is Sanderson, anyway?”

He snapped down the lock on the hitch and slid a cotter key through the hole. Standing straight, he said, “It’s about a three-hour drive. Every place is so damned far away. Help me load the bike, then you need to go get into your leathers.”

I found the trailer ramp and attached it to the center rail as Nick rolled his bike around. “Sanderson is an asphalt track, right?”

Nick nodded. We pushed his bike up the ramp. I held it steady while Nick secured it with the straps. Nick said, “Yeah. It’s a small airfield. It doesn’t get much use, so it doubles as a race track.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I like that. Asphalt doesn’t give, and it’s too flat.”

Nick started tying down the rear wheel, so it wouldn’t bounce out of the rail on the highway. “Yeah. It’ll be a little different from what we’re used to.  You’re going to have to work really hard today.”

We didn’t talk much on the way to Sanderson. Nick was actually a bit nervous about this particular race. Not only was it one of the more important races in the circuit, but Nick had to modify his bike a little for the race. He’d replaced the knobby tires with beefy street tires. He’d also attached a fairing to the front of the sidecar. Speeds were going to be a lot higher.

I was shocked to see so many people and bikes as we rolled into the airfield. This was apparently a major event. A national circuit was also holding their races here today. A TV crew for a major sports channel had a presence. Looking at all the expensive bikes and the uniform leathers of the professional teams, I felt like Nick and I were just some hicks from Hobo-ken. The pits for each circuit were segregated. Several of the racers for our circuit waved us in.

Again, I wasn’t allowed to help unload the bike from the trailer or even help Nick remove the sidecar from the pickup bed. The comments I heard were it was doubted I was even capable of helping, saying I was just too pretty to get dirty.

Members of the professional teams would walk through the pits on their way to register for their events. They mocked our bikes and scoffed at our lack of product endorsements stuck to our machines. A woman from one of the professional teams criticized Nick for using a little girl to ride in the sidecar. She sounded British.

We had a few hours before our first race. There were some stands set up, so I wandered over to check out the racing. I found a good spot where I could see most of the track. A group of boys saw me sit down and decided to sit with me. They tried to chat me up, but I wanted to watch the races. They didn’t believe that I was one of the racers.

I felt like a rank amateur watching the professional racers. It was almost like watching a ballet with the monkeys on the professional teams going gracefully from lying flat on their sidecars to flying to one side or the other to keep the bike on the track. I couldn’t take my eyes off the racers as they thundered down the straight-a-ways and powered through the corners. I was glad we weren’t racing against them.

I felt a poke on my arm. I looked around to see Nick frowning at me. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Get your ass over to the pits. We’re up next.”

One of the boys looked shocked and said, “Wow. She really does race!”

I stood up and saw that I’d have to navigate around the boys. “Excuse me, guys. I need to get through.” They actually moved out of my way.

I followed Nick back to his bike. I grinned when I saw that he’d cleaned it up a bit and on the newly installed cowling on the sidecar was a sticker that boldly said, “Spencer’s Photography.” I grabbed my helmet, and we started rolling the bike to our starting position.

I stood next to the bike as I strapped my helmet on. Nick’s bike roared to life after he kicked it through once. One of the bikes had another girl as the monkey, and she waved at me. Why did I say “another girl”? I waved back and did some quick flexing exercises. I needed to be super flexible for this race. Could I be as fast and graceful as those professionals?

As Nick straddled his bike, he said, “Randi. Take your position.”

I climbed up on the sidecar and crouched down. I got a solid grip on the bar in front of me. Nick looked back at me, and I gave him a thumbs up. They stretched the rubber band in front of all the bikes, and I narrowed my focus to it. I heard the clunk as Nick dropped the bike into first gear, engine roaring. Some photographer ran out onto the track to snap a quick picture. He had to be chased off the track. I was nervous as hell.

The rubber band snapped, and I braced myself. I hung on tight as Nick released the clutch, and we were suddenly propelled down the track. Nick had replaced the rear tire with a softer compound so it just wouldn’t sit there and spin. It was both terrifying and exciting to see the asphalt rocket beneath my sidecar. I threw my weight into the first corner as we blasted through the turn. Then I had to fling myself to the other side, leaning so far over my head was inches from the pavement, small pebbles and dirt bouncing off my face shield. Holy shit, this was intense.

I wasn’t sure of our position. I just knew we had broken away from the pack and had to be one of the leaders. When we hit the straight-a-ways, it wasn’t like I could stand up and look. I had to lie down to reduce the drag. Nick was hunkered over the tank. He’d added a little windshield. I couldn’t tell if that was helping or not. We were on our second lap, and I was already feeling tired.

On the third lap, in the second turn, we were forced to the outside of the curve. Nick tried to tighten the turn, and I was leaning as far as I dared go. We slipped off the asphalt and dropped down. We rolled, and I was launched into the air. I think I landed on top of Nick as I heard a grunt, and then my head slammed into the tarmac and…lights out…”

End of Part 4…