The charming radio announcer's voice fills the small living room.

“I got to tell you, Randy, one thing you can't deny is this kid’s talent.”

“You’re right, Tom. He dusted the competition and left them crying for their mamas! For him to be this successful this young? I mean, he's whooping grown men out there.”

“That’s right, folks, if you haven't heard, Bleu Cunningham placed first in the dirt bike trials and has earned himself a spot in the Buckhill Derby! Boy, would I be proud if I was his dad right now!”

The ratio cuts off.

            Bleu comes down on the old radio with his large fist. “Stupid thing, work dammit.” He lets out a thunderous sigh. “Mama! The radio broke again!” His voice echoes down the long, narrow hallway, cutting through the darkness of the dimly lit farmhouse.

​

 

            Quick footsteps emerge from the basement. Rose walks up the stairs to greet her son, kneeling on the floor with a defeated look in his eyes. She has on a silk red nightgown and a shiny satin bonnet to match. “What did I tell you about listening to that thing anyway?” She takes the radio out of the living room and into the kitchen, Bleu trailing right behind her, and sets it on the wooden coffee table next to an old, rusted toolbox and some high school textbooks. She flips the light switch on, and the room lights up. The name on the toolbox reads “Sunny.”

            “Where did you find this toolbox buttercakes?”

            “I was diggin' around in the shed out back.”

             Rose sighs. “I would’ve assumed a boy your age would rather play with the shotgun in the closet.”

             He scratches the dandruff from his dirty blond hair. “They were talkin' about me on the radio Ma, are you proud of me?” Bleu playfully nudges his mother. She wraps her tender and warm arms around her son’s large frame.

            “Oh, Bleu, you know I'll always be proud of you no matter what. But those knuckleheads Tom and Randy need to find a job instead of sitting around a Gentlemen’s Club getting drunk and talking about little boys riding dirt bikes.”

            Bleu snickers. “Now Mama, you best not tell them that once they greet me at the finish line at the Buckhill Derby to hand me my first-place trophy.” He was more excited for this race than the last time the McRib came back.

            “What you need to greet is your bed, mister; you should rest up for that race in the morning.” Rose gets on her tiptoes to kiss her son on the forehead and then retreats down the basement steps to her bedroom. Bleu paces the kitchen with his mind racing. He was too excited to sleep. This race was everything he’d ever dreamed about. Bleu could remember the first time he watched the Buckhill Derby. He was about three years old and could barely see over the metal railing separating the stands from the dirt track. There was loud country music playing, bleachers rattling, fans wailing, throwing empty beer cans, and hollering things Bleu should not have heard at that age. None of it was louder than the sound of those engines revving. Dirt bikes race down the ridged, pothole-riddled track. Every time a racer hit a huge jump, the whole stadium erupted. But the moment that Bleu would never forget was the race's final stretch.

            “Sunny’s in the lead, Bleu. Look!” Rose lifts her son to her level and holsters him with her hip. The stadium speakers let out a quick jolt of static.

            “Sunny’s pulling away from the pack! Sunny did it! Sunny won!” The stadium shakes with excitement. The crowd starts chanting, “Sunny! Sunny! Sun-”

            Bleu’s memories are interrupted by a familiar rumbling outside. Bleu opens the kitchen screen door to the fresh aroma of Harley exhaust and cigarette smoke. One singular headlight shines in Bleu’s direction. Kicked up in the dirt driveway is a blacked-out Harley-Davidson FXDB Daytona. The man who gets off it would be intimidating to most. He sports a bristle beard and a teardrop near his left eye. His ocean blue Levis are worn and loose and cling to his Timberland boots. His black leather jacket, reflective even at night, has a radiant sun on the back. The man approaches Bleu with his arms opened wide.

            “Are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna give your old man a hug?”

            Bleu embraces the sentiment from the leather grizzly bear. Sunny was the only man large enough to make even Bleu feel small. Too excited to contain the news, Bleu reveals the obvious to his father.

            “Did you hear about me on the radio Pa? I’m taking on Buckhill!”

Sunny pauses momentarily, then wrestles his son under his arm and gives him a light-hearted noogie. “Of course, I heard! When did you get so fast, boy?”

            Bleu caught a slight whiff of whiskey under his father's breath through all the commotion.

            “If you’re looking to stay the night again, I don’t think Mama would be too happy about it.” Sunny scratches his dirty blond beard, pulls out a golden lighter and sparks a cigarette.

            “Never mind that. I came to surprise you, B! Get your shoes. I’m taking you out to celebrate.”

            Bleu made his way back into the kitchen and took slow steps toward his bedroom, trying not to make the floor creak. He knew if his mom woke up to Sunny outside, there would be hell to pay. He grabs his shoes and sneakily exits the house through the same door he went in. He sits down on the front deck to lace them up when Sunny suddenly swipes the pair of shoes off the ground. He pokes a finger through the outsole of the shoe and fiddles with the muddy laces.

            “Damn Bleu, these shoes are more beat up than I thought.” Sunny walks toward his Harley and unbuckles the saddlebag right above the steel exhaust pipe. He pulls out a box coated with blue and yellow wrapping paper.

            “I meant to wait for your birthday, but you’re gonna want to put these on now for where we’re going.”

            Bleu’s face lights up. He tears through the wrapping paper to expose a bruised black shoe box. He lifted the striped lid off the box and stared in awe at the gift bestowed on him. They were an old pair of Timberlands, but they looked familiar.

            “Were these yours Pa?”

            Sunny sits down on the deck next to his son. “I wore those during my Buckhill Derby. Your mama got them for me as a gift the day before. She thought I would dirty them up on the bike, but I didn’t let it happen.”

            At that moment, Bleu looked at Sunny with admiration. He doesn’t see this side of his father often, but when he does, he can’t help but smile from ear to ear.

            “I’m proud of you, B. You done good, and I know you’re gonna tear it up tomorrow! Now let’s get outta here before your mom rips me a new one.”

            Bleu laces up the new boots and hops on the back of the Harley with his arms wrapped around his father's waist. In unison, they shout, “Let’s Ride!” as the motorcycle roars alive and speeds down the country back road. Bleu loved being on the back of his dad's Harley. He was on

a bike almost as early as he could walk, so he always lived life fast. However, it seemed that time slowed down whenever he was on the Harley. And it wasn’t about the bike itself. Sunny told him how he saw the motorcycle one day in a Florida bike lot during one of his crazy Florida trips, and he knew he had to have it. He rode it back to Kansas. He had wanted to impress Rose, but she was never really into motorcycles too much. In fact, Rose was probably the only person in town who despised motorcycles. Nevertheless, the gesture was enough for her to fall for the man, and that’s how Bleu came along. Nowadays, the idea of Bleu riding those two-wheeled death machines scares her half to death. Sunny would always say, “It’ll put some hair on his chest.”

            The main reason that Bleu loved these rides was the sense of freedom. It was safe to say that the boy was always stressed. Having a Dad that the entire town looks up to doesn’t make for the easiest shoes to fill, and being caught in the middle of a dying relationship between your parents was even tougher to deal with. But anytime he was on the back of that bike, he had time to breathe. Time to look at the star-flooded sky and watch the dew slide off the silver maple tree leaves—nothing to think about but the road ahead of him.

            “Where are we going Pa? You still haven’t told me.”

            Sunny pushes down hard on the pedal. The engine blares like a caged animal.

            “We’re going to paradise son.”

            The two pull up at a local Gentlemen’s Club called The Lonesome Horseshoe. The side of the building has graffiti of a radiant sun. Right in front of the stunning artwork are a dozen Harleys of all different shapes and sizes. Sunny cuts the bike off and walks toward the entrance before stopping his stride.

          “Today my boy, you become a man.”

            Sunny opens the door, and Bleu immediately analyzes his surroundings. Loud electronic music rang throughout the venue as strobe lights attempted to blind his field of vision. He saw bright red leather seats with mysterious stains all split into sections lined with velvet rope. Topless women were trailed by men who could barely keep one foot in front of the other. At the center of all the action was a stage with a golden pole, and scattered around it were crumpled dollar bills. As the two make their way through the club, Sunny makes a break for the stage.

            “Everybody listen up!” The music dies down as the crowd's eyes land on Sunny.

            “We have a very special guest in the building… Get up here B!”

            Bleu shuffles through the crowd and joins his dad on stage. This was the first time he could get a good look at the people in the building. Almost all of them were wearing matching leather jackets. Their patches portray a radiant sun.

            “My son, Bleu, is racing in the Buckhill Derby!”

            The crowd ignites with sprinkles of hoots and hollers, followed by rising beer bottles. Sunny guides his son off the stage through the hellbent mob of strippers and motorcycle gang members.

            “Y’all be sure to look after my boy. You’re gonna be seeing him a lot more often around here.” Bleu feels his stomach cave in. It was a nice gesture but a bit too overwhelming.

            “Hey Pa, it's gettin' a little late. Shouldn’t we start heading back now? I’m sure Mama wouldn’t be too happy if-”

            “Dammit Bleu enough about your Mama.”

            Sunny grits his teeth through his beard and lets out a thunderous sigh. “I'm sorry for cursing at ya son, I’ve just been feeling a little wound up lately.”

            Sunny’s eyes wander towards the bar setup tucked away in the corner of the Lonesome horseshoe. “I think I need a drink. Come on, there are some fans of yours I want you to meet.”

            Sunny escorts the pair to the back of the club; they approach two older men sitting on bright red barstools. One of the men spins around to face Sunny and Bleu.

            “Sunny, now I know you didn’t bring your sixteen-year-old son into a strip club full of felons.” Sunny squares up to the man, questioning his fathering methods.

            “No, Tom, I brought the fastest dirtbike racer in all of Buckhill County, Kansas, into a strip club full of felons.”

            The other man attempts to turn his head towards Sunny and Tom as they give each other a firm handshake.

            “There’s… too much talkin’!... going on… and not enough.. drinkin’!” The man slowly maneuvers his body off the bar stool and loosely lays his hand on Bleu’s shoulder.

            “Hey kid… I'm Randy.”

            Bleu looks at the frigid old man with concern as he continues to slur his words.

            “You’re going places… and I’m going… to go take a leak.”

            The man stumbles towards the men’s bathroom and disappears through wooden double swinging doors. Sunny cackles at the whole ordeal.

            “Who let that man on the radio!”

             Bleu couldn’t believe who he was in the presence of. It was Tom and Randy! Or at least what was left of Randy. He had heard them on the radio countless times, but this was the first time he met them face-to-face.

             Sunny leans over the bar counter, looking at the alcohol selection on the back wall like a kid in a candy shop.

            “Bartender! On this fine evening, I am in search of your finest whiskey on the rocks please and thank you.” He then takes a bow for the bartender as a fresh glass of liquid courage slides in his direction.

            “Now if you fellas will excuse me, I have an appointment with the misses over there in the purple.”

            Sunny wraps his arm around a woman in purple lingerie, and the two of them walk toward a private room, leaving Tom and Bleu to get acquainted. Tom plops back down on the bar stool and pulls a small notepad from his back pocket and a pen from his handkerchief shirt pocket. “You know, you’re startin’ to make a name for yourself around here. Would ya be down to answer a few questions for the radio? These people are dying to know about the boy wonder.” Bleu eagerly sits down, feeling like a Hollywood celebrity.

             “So how long have you been riding dirt bikes?”

             “Since I was five years old. Pa bought me a mini bike, and I’ve been riding ever since.”

            “Surely a kid with your frame isn’t still riding that little old thing?”

            “Ha-ha, no sir. I got my hands on a Honda CR 500R.”

            “Honda better give you a deal from all the sales they’re gonna make in this county after I break that news to the fans.”

            Bleu blushes from the unexpected compliment.

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t ride to make money. I ride to feel free.”

            “Free from what? Bad school lunches?” Tom chuckles at his joke.

              Bleu shrugs. “Whatever I can outrun I guess.”

            Tom looks up from his notepad and examines the young man before him.

            “So where did you get all of your skills from? I’m sure your dad was teaching you his old tricks.”

            “Pa was there to teach me a couple of tricks when I was younger. My favorite was a trick we called the Heel Clicker. I had never seen a grown man spread his legs that wide in my life!” Bleu breaks out of his reminiscent trance, and his eyes fall to the bar counter.

            “After a while, Pa stopped coming around as much, so I started to learn new skills on my own.”

              Tom looks around at all the men in leather jackets and the sea of radiant sun patches surrounding Bleu and him.

              “Sunny must have been…preoccupied.”

            He sets his notepad and pen aside and turns to face Bleu.

            “Did your Pa ever tell you that he was a Motorcycle gang leader?”

            Bleu twiddles his thumbs.

            “My mama told me that much. She never really liked to talk about Pa a lot.”

            Tom swirls a couple of remaining sips of Kentucky bourbon in his glass.

            “How is your Ma doin’ by the way? It’s safe to assume she wouldn’t want you hangin’ around in a place like this.” Bleu gets up from the uncomfortable barstool and raises his arms above his head to stretch his shoulders.

            “You know what Tom? You are damn sure right about that. I think I’m going to go find my Pa.” Tom winks at the boy wonder.

            “Thanks for the talk–”

            Just then, Randy comes stumbling out of the men's bathroom with toilet paper glued to the sole of his shoe. “Last one… to the stripper pole… has to take fireball shots!” Sunny strolls out of the private room at the mention of alcohol. “Did somebody say fireball shots?” Bleu stops his alcoholic father dead in his tracks. “Pa, can we head back now?” Sunny yawns with a tired look on his face. “I guess I’ve sobered up enough. Let’s ride!”

            Sunny reignites his Harley and rides off into the empty open road while Bleu watches the neon horseshoe sign fade away in the distance. He can’t help but think about how much the crowd adored him. Sure, they were mostly strippers, motorcycle felons, and unsatisfied husbands, but they all raised a glass to the boy wonder. Not to mention, he had already been mentioned on the radio and had met Tom and Randy. He loved Sunny but didn’t want to be under his shadow anymore. He got a taste of stardom. It was time for him to make a name for himself in Buckhill County. The pillars of hope that Bleu had just created for himself were pierced with sharp daggers once he came back to the present time and realized that his Mama was going to kill him if she found out about their father-son bonding time. The Harley purs quietly down the driveway until Sunny cuts off the engine and puts his black leather gloves into his back pocket. He gets off the bike and faces the seemingly undisturbed farmhouse—his face drops. An aggravated Rose is standing on the front deck with a loaded double-barrel shotgun pointed directly at his head. “Mama!” Bleu steps in front of his petrified father and stretches his arm out towards his mother as if he could catch the bullet.

            “I’m fine Mama! I’m not hurt or any–”

            “Go inside Bleu.”

            Rose opens the screen door behind her without breaking the persistent gaze into Sunny’s fearful eyes. Bleu slowly trudges through the open door and then quietly shuffles towards the kitchen window to continue watching. Rose cocks the powerful firearm and twirls it in her hands.

            “You know, I was going to call the police.”

Not wanting to test his luck, Sunny doesn’t move an inch.

` “Can’t a man come and see his son from time to time?”

“What man? I don't see any men around here. All I see is a felon still caught up in a make-believe fever dream.”

Sunny scoffs and takes a step towards his ex-wife. Rose sends a warning shot that almost takes Sunny’s toes clean off. Bleu flinches at the loud bang that echoes throughout the silent night surroundings.

            “What the hell Rose?”

            “Take one step closer; next time, I won’t miss.”

            “I’m the man in this town woman. I don’t know what type of fantasy land you think I’m livin’ in, but my name rings bells around here.”

            Rose snorts at Sunny’s dimwittedness.

“That is exactly what I am talkin’ about Sunny. Ever since you won that stupid Derby, you’ve become someone I don’t even recognize. It has been 13 years and you’re still running around with your little motorcycle gang and passing out at the Lonely Horseshoe. Give it up already. I told you that I don’t want you around my son if you’re gonna keep doin’ your bullshit. So you can be “the man” in Buckhill, but you will never be the man of this house. Not ever again.” Sunny puts his hands up and then walks back to his Harley.

            “Fine Rose. You can chase me off now, but you can’t stop me from going to see my son at the Derby tomorrow!”

            He speeds off down the Kansas back road. Rose turns around with trembling arms. She slowly walks back into the kitchen, and while holding back tears, she sets the shotgun back in its hiding place in the closet. Bleu leaves the windowsill and holds on to his mother tightly as a waterfall of tears rolls down her cheek onto his shoulder.

            “I'm sorry Mama. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just hadn’t seen him in a while is all.”

            Rose continues to cry harder.

            “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, buttercakes. I just don’t want you to end up like him.” She breaks from her son’s grasp and attempts to regain what self-dignity she has left. She spots Sunny’s old toolbox still planted on the coffee table from hours before.

            “Please take that damn toolbox back to the shed where you got it from. I don’t need any more reminders of that man tonight.”

            She then disappears back down into her bedroom. Bleu walks the toolbox into the shed and then treks back to his bedroom with the bed he’s longed to lay in since he left the house. Even with everything that just went down, he was truly thinking about the race tomorrow. He couldn’t wait to take on the Derby and earn his stripes. He didn’t just want the spotlight. He craved it. Maybe he could have his name ring bells around town as well. Maybe he could rise above the tension that his parents have stressed him with. Tomorrow is going to be the day that changes his life forever. Bleu uses that idea to fuel his dreams as he peacefully falls asleep.

 

 

 

            The stadium speakers kick on as Tom and Randy sit in the booth, attempting to rile up the hungry crowd.

            “Make some noise!”

            Everyone gets up from their seat and screams as loud as humanly possible. The havoc unraveling in the stadium was nothing short of a world war.

            “Tom, I can’t tell you how I made it to the announcers' booth after last night, but I’m glad I did. The Buckhill Derby is here!”

            Tom cracks up at his hungover radio co-host.

            “That’s right Randy, all the racers are getting tuned up and ready to rock and roll! This is going to be three laps of absolute mayhem!”

            Bleu kisses his mother on the cheek before hopping over the railing to find his dirt bike on the track.

            “I love you, Mama. I won’t let you down.”

            Rose blows a kiss in her son's direction that he swiftly catches.

            “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

            Bleu trots towards his dirt bike and notices Sunny crouching near the bike with his trusty toolbox.

            “Hey Pa, what are you doing over here?”

             Sunny stands up and takes a long drag from his cigarette.

            “Figured I’d go by the house real quick and get my toolbox from the shed. I wanted to make sure she was all pretty and ready to go!” He pats his son on the back.

            “It was the least I could do after last night.”

            Bleu scans his bike with a satisfied look in his eyes. “I didn’t want it to go down like that between you and Mama. She almost took your head off!”

            Sunny smiles at his son and then locks eyes with Rose in the stands. “No, your Mama was right. Sometimes I just get too hung up in the past. I truly do love you and your mother B. I’m gonna try my best to make sure you don’t end up like your old man. Good luck out there, and remember to have some fun.”

 

            He walks back towards the stands, leaving Bleu to think about what's ahead.

            “Racers, start your engines!” The engine rattling begins and repeats itself down all of the lanes. Bleu tunes out his surroundings as he stares down the open track. He turns his head to see his competition doing the same. I’m gonna win this, he thinks. I have to win this.

            “On your marks, get set, GO!”

            Bleu darts out of the gate, quickly overtaking the first couple of racers. The bikes drift the first corner, overlapping each other and kicking up all kinds of mud. Here comes the jump, Bleu thinks. He flies gracefully through the air and lands perfectly on the dirt track. The crowd stomps and claps as the race picks up. One lap down, and Bleu picks up the pace. He passes another group of racers and hits the same jump. The speakers judder back to life once again.

            “Tom, are you seeing this? Bleu Cunningham is moving down this track. At the rate he’s going, he might be able to win this thing!”

Bleu lands the jump and feels a slight looseness in his front tire. He pays no mind. All he needs to do is stay at the front of the pack for one more lap and then pull away at the last minute. The blow horns people bought from the merchandise stand are bellowing with excitement. Fans are on the edge of their seats, leaning forward to get a better view of the scene. Bleu pulls away from the pack as he nears the jump one final time.

            “Oh. My. Gosh! He’s gonna do it, Randy! Bleu is gonna win it all!”

            The stadium blares into a chant.

            “Bleu! Bleu! Bleu!”

              While turning the corner, Bleu remembers back to his conversation with Tom. Now would be the perfect time to pull out his favorite trick. Pa would definitely be proud of him if he pulled this

one off. Bleu hits the ramp and spreads his legs as wide as possible. He felt free. Almost as if everything that had happened before was supposed to lead to this moment. Pure Freedom. Clang! The front tire pops loose. Bleu helplessly loses control and falls towards the ground face first. *Snap*. The crowd falls dead silent. The engines simultaneously stop, leaving an empty atmosphere in the once-lively stadium.

            “Oh man Tom that doesn’t look too good.”

           “BLEUUU!”

            Rose dashes over to her son's seemingly lifeless body.

            “Oh, Bleu! Don’t Leave me yet! Please, baby!”

            A paramedic pulls her off him while a medical team checks out the situation. One of the men stands up and shakes his head.

            “His neck snapped. He has no pulse.”

            Rose falls to her knees and cries hysterically. Just then, Sunny approaches his son's discombobulated corpse. Rose looks up at him, too hurt to speak but too angry to stay silent.

            “This is your fault! It should have been you!”

            Sunny takes the cigarette out of his mouth and watches it fall