Free Spokes by PD Singer Page A

what he'd
    said about secrecy before. "I don't have a lot of money, Luca."
    "Oh." Luca's smile put happy creases around his mouth. "Money is little problem. If tonight works out, no problem.
    Not a done deal yet, I can't say details until all names are on contract, but already we talk about photographers and locations and
    magazines."
    "That's great!" Christopher leaned down to place his congratulations lip to lip. Who were Antano-Clark's sponsors,
    and what had they been advertising, or not advertising yet? He sifted through the CycloWorld ads in his head, discarding every product as unrelated.
    Who could think of gears or helmets while getting kissed by the sexiest guy to ever straddle a bike?
    And Luca wanted Christopher to come to Europe.... And he was right here, right now, and wearing too many clothes. Christopher pulled away again,
    just long enough to fix that little problem.
    ***
    "Up, up, Christopher. We ride this morning." The smell of coffee made any further Z s impossible, and strong fingers working into
    Christopher's shoulders made them undesirable. Which was not the same as wanting to get out of bed.
    "Huh?" Peeling his eyes open and his mind from the fuzz of sleep, it did occur to him that Luca had ridden his racing bike last night,
    not the mountain bike. He rolled over to find Luca in leggings and a jersey, not yet zipped over the undershirt. "Okay, give me a
    minute." He dragged into the bathroom to finish his wakening.
    "'ere're 'e 'oing'?" Christopher asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.
    "Where did you go yesterday?" Luca asked.
    "Up to Ward. Took me about an hour and a half." All the way this time, with chance-met companions to draft on and switch off with, not
    the combined might of a pro team to drag him up the mountain. They'd maintained a tempo Christopher felt comfortable with, leaving him pleasantly
    well-worked, if without the joys of Luca's company or the dubious delights of Rolf's. With his new pedaling skills, he'd led
    enough of the way at a pace that gained some backslaps and attaboys around the water urn at the general store.
    "Then let's go out to Lyons and back. About thirty miles. Not too hilly." Luca rinsed his coffee cup and left it upside down
    in the drainer.
    Christopher paused half-in, half-out of his jersey. "Better check your metric conversions; that's closer to forty-five miles."
    "Not if we skip Lee Hill. Pretty road but we don't need to ride it."
    Lee Hill had thirteen hundred feet of vertical with that ten percent grade at the top. Skipping it after his climb yesterday sounded pretty good,
    except--"Won't you be bored?"
    "No, Christopher." Luca came over to run the zipper closed over Christopher's chest, pressing the tab down and reaching up
    for a kiss at the same time. "I won't be bored."
    "I didn't mean because you'll have my ass to look at." He caught Luca's upper arms, holding him close for
    a stern look that melted in the heat of that bright smile.
    "Your ass is very not-boring, but the ride is fine. I climbed all day yesterday." Luca pressed in, chest to chest.
    "Let's go, okay? I have another meeting with New York guy today, I want to ride first."
    "Okay." Christopher let go. He wouldn't dispute Luca's choice of route--he could get to Lyons and back
    even after the effort of yesterday, but something was off. "If that's where you want to go."
    "That route is good practice for a time trial."
    When he put it that way, of course, any question disappeared. All television coverage of cycling included a dozen discussions from the commentators
    regarding how big stage races were won or lost on time trials.
    Christopher couldn't say it wasn't a pretty ride, with the foothills rising to his left, coated in their-green-black pines and junipers
    with their evergreen smell that mixed with the nearby sage. The occasional house poked through the trees, whiffing of money. The topography of the road had
    just enough roll to it to require the intermittent shift of gear, and he could