Engine Block – An iron casting that envelops the camshaft, connecting rods and pistons.

 

“What are you doing?”

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing, Sway?” Charlie shot a glare in my direction before looking down. “I’m looking at the menu for Christ’s sake.”

“Well, honestly, it looks like you’re about to have a heart attack, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, his attention focused on the menu.

Maybe being a pit lizard was wearing on him. Either that or him getting arrested last night with Grandpa Casten had done a number on him. Stupid assholes took it upon themselves to have a talk with the official that made all those shitty calls on pit road. Needless to say, old Duane decided he’d had enough abuse from Jameson’s words, and he wasn’t putting up with the talking, or lack thereof, they decided to have.

Giving him space, I focused on the Charlotte Observer newspaper in front of me from a few weeks ago, remembering my happy place. Sprawled across the front page, a picture of me sitting on the hood of Jameson’s car in victory lane, him down on one knee looking up at me.

 

Rowdy Riley tamed at the Lady in Black?

If Sway Reins ever wanted validation of Rowdy Riley’s love, she got it Saturday night after his dominating charge to win the Mountain Dew Southern 500 Winston Cup race on August 23. Under the lights and the shower of champagne, Jameson Riley, driver of the No. 9 Simplex Ford, dropped down to one knee in front of his long-time childhood friend Sway Reins and proposed. The fans in attendance got one heck of a show when she said yes and proceeded to seal the marriage proposal with a fairytale kiss.

 

At least this article was a good one. The other papers spread across the café didn’t exactly paint my soon-to-be husband as a nice guy. But, like I said before, they didn’t know him, and they didn’t try to. They had their theories.

Charlie leaned forward, tearing the paper from my hands. “Listen, I need to talk to you about some things.”

“Okay.” I set my water glass down on the table and removed my legs from the other chair they were resting on. “What?” I gave him all my attention.

Charlie leaned back in his chair and sighed. If I had to guess, the way he was acting, he was trying to figure out how to tell me something.

Charlie and I were having breakfast together at a small outdoor café before we all left for Vegas to celebrate my birthday. Andrea, Charlie, and the Lucifer twins were going to fly home later today, so while Jameson was with his physical therapist, Charlie took me to breakfast, alone. It was nice to be alone with him for once, without the twins tagging along.

“Have you and Jameson thought of a day yet?” He seemed to be fidgeting.

Recalling the moment Jameson asked me to marry him, I smiled looking down at the ring—my mother’s ring, my grandmother’s ring before that.

Lately, I couldn’t keep my eyes off this thing as it meant I’d be his forever.

“Yeah, we talked about it last night.” Images of our time at the house flashed through my mind. Though the night wasn’t the dirty sex I had promised him before the race, I made up for it last week.

“I wanted to get married on Mom’s birthday. Originally I wanted to get married on the anniversary of her death, Valentine’s Day, but Jameson doesn’t want to wait that long, and neither do I.”

Charlie smiled. “So, December fourth?”

“Yeah, December fourth.” Looking around the café, I noticed Van standing off in the distance, watching us. I felt safer knowing he was there, especially after that night in Summerville.

“You know, I miss your mother very much.” I watched as his usual steady gaze glistened with tears. The morning light reflected the shine from his brown eyes.

I started bawling right there in the middle of the goddamn café. “I... do, too... I miss her so much.” I wailed. Usually I wasn’t this emotional, but I’m sure it had something to do with Jameson’s epic proposal last week and the baby hormones that seemed to be consuming me. Lately, it’d been a shitstorm of emotions.

Charlie got up from across the table and pulled me into his arms. “Shhh... it’s okay, sweetheart... shhh.”

My baby hormones took over and I cried—blubbered even. And you know what; you’d be surprised how good it felt to cry sometimes.

Charlie and I sat there, in the middle of the restaurant, crying and holding each other. Well, I was crying, Charlie was trying to comfort me and not freak out that his emotional pregnant daughter was having a nervous breakdown.

Soon, I gathered my wits and pulled back. “Sorry.” I wiped the tears and snot away. “I... with the baby and Jameson proposing … I’m a little emotional.” I waved my hand around trying to convince him, and me, that was all it was.

Charlie stared at me for a long moment, his chocolate brown eyes that matched his hair examining mine. “Have I ever told you how your mom and I fell in love?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it’s about time you hear this story. It’s a good one.” His eyes brightened at the thought reminding me of when they were together.

I was all for a good love story so I sat back and listened, tears slipping down every so often.

“I met Rachel when I was four years old. She lived next door. She threw a baseball at my face, and I was in love.” Charlie chuckled softly. “We grew up together, dated all through high school. The day she turned eighteen, we drove down to Vegas and got married. Her father hated me and didn’t approve of the wedding so we eloped. Nine months later, to the exact day, you were born and changed our lives forever, in a good way. You showed us that it didn’t matter whether or not people approved of us. We had this tiny baby, and in her eyes... we were everything.” Charlie smiled. “We had no idea what the fuck we were doing. I’m amazed you made it to a year old at times,” he told me, letting out a laugh.

I couldn’t really laugh at that. Jameson and I had no business having children, and here we were, having one in five months. Jameson had the maturity of a seven-year-old. Put us together and we’re maybe sixteen.

“Roger never talked to me again after we got married, but your grandma—she came by to see you every day.”

“What was it like for you when Mom died?”

Charlie got this faraway look in his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t even know how to describe the feeling. I knew she was sick. I found out when she started going through treatments in July of ‘85. She kept it from me for a long time, but when she started losing her hair and puking all the time, she couldn’t hide it any longer. It was hard, especially saying goodbye.” He offered an uneasy smile. “It was easier having you around. You were such a carefree child that it made it hard to be depressed. I felt like I needed to be strong for you. Or maybe it was you being strong for me?”

I wanted to lighten the mood so I changed the subject quickly on him.

“Grandpa didn’t approve of you, eh?” I laughed, remembering the hard, proper man I called Grandpa when I was younger. Though I don’t remember him well, I remember he was always to the point.

“Nope.” Charlie shook his head. “He thought I was some kind of asshole for taking his daughter away from him.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“I never thought Jameson was an asshole. I do question that kid’s sanity at times, but I wanted him to come to his senses and realize you two were meant for each other. He looks at you the same way I looked at Rachel. He loves you.”

“I should hope so, he knocked me up.”

Charlie scowled with a settled frown. “Anyway, I hope that I’m here to see the little one born. It’ll be interesting watchin’ you two as parents.”

“You will be, Dad,” I told him with confidence I didn’t know I had.

For a moment, he was quiet until a heavy sigh filled the air. “I, uh... there are some things we need to talk about with my will.”

“Oh.” I sat up in my chair, knowing this was important to him. “What?”

“Well, the track is taken care of. The title is in Jameson’s name now. He will remain the owner and you will remain the General Manger and Director of Operations. Mark is named as the Track Facilitator. The house is in your name, but I’d like it if you would let Andrea continue to live there.”

“Dad... I’ve, uh, never asked this in the two years I’ve known Andrea, but uh... who is the twins’ father?”

Charlie looked down at his feet quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“DAD!” I yelled entirely too loud and then slapped my hand over my mouth.

“What?” he responded, glaring at me for causing a few bystanders to take notice.

“Are you ...?” I pictured the twins in my head, trying to find any resemblance. They were identical twins—sometimes you couldn’t tell them apart—but Logan was about three inches shorter than Lucas, so that’s how I could tell. They had brown hair that Andrea kept entirely too long, brown chocolate... oh my God! “DAD!”

“Jesus, stop saying that, Sway!” His eyes scanned the café.

“Well, answer the question then.”

“I, uh... I’m not exactly sure.” His gaze moved from me to his feet again.

I giggled. This was really funny to me. “What do you mean you’re not exactly sure?”

“I’ve never asked her.”

“What do you mean you’ve never asked?”

“Will you stop repeating my questions?” He glared. “Your junior year... when you flew to Mexico with Jameson and his family, do you remember that?”

“Yes.” I smiled. I knew where this was going. “Keep talking ...”

“Well, I... umm... well ...” His brow furrowed as though he was concentrating. “I ...”

“Spit it out, Dad.” I laughed. “You had a one night stand, didn’t you?”

“Jesus Christ, Sway!” his voice took on a hushed tone as though this was embarrassing for him. “Don’t say that so fucking loud.” Despite his words, he smirked this boyish I’ve been caught smirk.

“So you had a one night stand, and she got pregnant ...?”

“I don’t exactly know. I met her at a bar, she took advantage of me... or I took advantage of her... someone took advantage, and then she left the next morning. Four years later, when you were in college, she came back with Logan and Lucas. We started dating, and then she introduced me to them. She needed a place to stay so I told her she could move in. I was lonely without you around, and now, I’m insane because those kids are shit heads. There really is something wrong with them, especially Logan.”

“You’ve never asked her if they’re yours or not?”

Charlie shook his head. “No... but when I do the math, it adds up. And, Christ... look at them, they’re spitting images of me!”

Now that I actually thought about it, he was right. “Do they know who their dad is?”

“Andrea and I have never talked about it. I think she knows I have an idea they might be mine, but I’ve never heard them ask who their dad is.”

“Wow.” I shook my head. “My dad is a slut!”

“Sway!” He looked appalled. “Don’t say that too loud.”

“What? Are you afraid of ruining your image?” I giggled, and he smirked.

“You’re horrible. Anyway, I want them to have a place, you know?”

“I get what you’re saying Dad, but you really should find out for sure, just so you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should talk to her about it.” His smile took on a distant memory. “You are so much like your mother, you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was irrational. Always said exactly what was on her mind, and if she wanted to do something, she did it,” Charlie told me. “Like us getting married. She decided that morning that we needed to get married, and we did. Rachel never waited for anything. If she wanted to know, she asked.”

I smiled. I always felt like I never really knew my mom because really, I didn’t. I was six when she died. At six, you barely know yourself, let alone anyone else. I felt bad for the twins if Charlie really was their father because like me, they’ll lose him.

“So you and Jameson are going to Vegas tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan. Then we are flying to Key West for a night. You should come with us to Vegas. Nancy and Jimi are coming.”

I wasn’t sure after his pit lizard week if this was a good idea, but he seemed to enjoy himself, so why not.

Charlie thought for a long moment. “You know, I think I will. It might be the last time I get to party. I’m going to go to Vegas,” he said proudly.

“Good.” I smiled, but deep down I was a little worried.

 

If I thought these last few weeks with most of our families together was tough, I was in for a rude awakening when we arrived in Las Vegas.

“Where did that come from?” Jameson asked, his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hotel.

“What?”

“Those?”

“Be more specific!”

“Those.” He pointed at my bag. “Have you always had them, and if so, how come I’ve never seen them before?”

He was like a kid in a candy store looking through my bag. I looked inside the suitcase to see what he was pointing at. “No, those would be a product of shopping with the slut mothers in Fredrick’s of Hollywood while you, Aiden, and Spencer were in the liquor store.”

His brow furrowed as he repeated, “Slut mothers?”

“Your sister and Alley.”

Picking up the midnight blue nighty, he asked, “Do I get to see this tonight?”

Holding it up, his smirk appeared over the top, peering at me with excitement.

“If you’re good.”

“Mmm...” He came to stand behind me. When his erection pressed against my ass, all my willpower almost caved. “How about I see it now,” he growled in my ear, his tongue darted out, kissing my neck. “I can’t wait. I don’t like waiting for anything.”

 “Ain’t that the fucking truth.” I turned and slapped at him, trying to get away, but giggling. He picked me up, my legs instantly wrapped around his waist.

“Looks like this is going to be getting in the way more and more...” A lopsided grin formed as he looked down at my belly rubbing against his.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, dropping my legs from around his waist. “My pants are getting tight, too.”

“I think it’s adorable,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “You look sexy.”

I rose up on my tippy toes to kiss his lips until a knock at our hotel door interrupted us. “Get dressed, bitches. It’s time to PARTY!” Spencer yelled from the other side of the door.

Jameson smiled. “Later?”

I kissed him once more. “Later.”

We got dressed. Jameson was wearing dark jeans and a black Simplex Racing shirt paired with his white Puma shoes I loved. I decided to wear another one of my little summer dresses he loved because it was the only article of clothing that was comfortable anymore. I chose a black and white one to match Jameson with my white flip-flop sandals.

Emma would be proud, aside from the flip-flops.

As I expected, when I walked out of the hotel room of the Bellagio Hotel, Emma was smiling widely appraising my outfit.

“When did you get that?” she asked, feeling the soft material.

“Last week sometime.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, walking toward the hotel elevators. Jameson and Spencer hung back, talking with Van.

When we reached the restaurant in the lobby, Alley was already drinking. Against Spencer’s wishes, Lane flew back to Washington with Andrea and the Lucifer twins. Charlie and Jimi were taking shots and Nancy, with wide eyes, was lighting some drink on fire. It was apparent it’d been a while since everyone had relaxed. And, after Richmond, it was needed. One good thing, old Casten was back home. Just imagine if he were here, too.

Unfortunately, it was supposed to be my birthday party, and I couldn’t drink.

Damn you, little baby.

I rubbed my tiny baby bulge. “Don’t worry—Mommy still loves you.”

“Who are you talking to?” Jameson asked, placing his hands on my waist, standing by the table at Olives restaurant inside the Bellagio.

“The baby.” I leaned back into his chest.

“Mmmm.” He craned his head forward, kissing my bare shoulder; his lips lingered there as he spoke, “How’s daddy’s little racer doing?” His hands moved forward cradling my stomach.

“Good... I do miss drinking, though.” I stuck my bottom lip out. “It’s my birthday party, and I can’t even drink.”

I turned in his arms to look up at him; his green eyes sparkled.

“Sorry, honey.” His smirk returned. “We could go have sex. Would that make you feel better?”

“Actually, it would.”

Jameson chuckled, glancing around at the table.

“Come on,” he whispered, pulling me back toward the elevators, leaving Alley and Emma to yell after us.

“We’ll be right back!” Jameson yelled back with a careless shrug.

“Sure they will,” Charlie told them.

Once inside the hotel room, Jameson was intense.

Slowly he laid me on the large bed and flipped my dress up.

“Don’t move,” he instructed, ripping his shirt over his head and then dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed.

Fingers, hands, tongue, and lips worked in perfect unison and had me shuddering in less than a minute. Damn, he was good. His deburring skills were legendary.

Jameson yanked his jeans down in one fluid movement and leaned back on his heel, jerking me off the bed to straddle his hips, my legs resting on either side on him.

His left hand reached between us and slipped himself inside. “Oh, God, Sway.”

“Mmm,” I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck, his lips returning to mine.

Bouncing around on his lap had me realizing where all those bacon cheeseburgers were going.

To confirm, I looked behind me to see my ass jiggling like a Busta Rhymes music video.

So embarrassing.

Jameson noticed and turned my head, forcing me to look at him. “Pay attention,” he panted out.

I could tell he was moments away from his release by the tensed expression and lust-hooded eyes. That alone distracted me enough to focus my attention on him because, Christ Almighty, his O face was breathtaking. No lie.

When his strong hands gripped my jiggle wiggle ass, I was distracted again and looked behind me. This time my dirty heathen was too far gone to care. His head fell forward against my shoulder. He let out a delicious groan, jerking underneath me. His hands came up to wrap around the back of my shoulders and pushed me down on him once more. I could feel him pulsing inside, biting down on my shoulder, crying out at the force of his orgasm. I tried to get a look at his face, but his head was buried in my neck.

It upset me a little because I loved watching his contorted expression.

Giggling that this whole escapade lasted less than ten minutes, I ran my fingers up and down his back as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“What were you looking at?” Jameson asked once he could breathe normally again. “You seemed to be paying a lot of attention to it.”

“My ass... it’s huge.”

“It’s not huge, honey. I happen to like your ass bigger.” His eyebrows waggled. “It shakes now and, goddamn, is it sexy.”

I slapped his shoulder. “You would.”

He laughed as I climbed off him and looked around for my underwear.

“Damn you!” I held up my shredded underwear. “What the fuck? How do you do this every time?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think I pulled on them that hard.”

“Well, you did.” I reached around in my suitcase for another pair.

“Jameson, five. Sway, three?” I’m not sure it was meant to be a question, but the way he said it, it came out like one.

“No, no, that’s not fair! We didn’t keep track last week.”

He shrugged, reaching for the door handle once I pulled on some new underwear. “Looks like you have some ground to make up for then.”

 

When we got back to the table, most everyone was ordering their meals and drinks when Jameson decided to gain himself a comfortable lead in our race with each other.

He chose dirty talking in front of his family.

So, while looking over the menu, he leaned into my side throwing his arm around the back of my chair.

No one noticed, but when he started talking, they took notice.

I could feel the warmth of his body in contrast to the cool restaurant.

“Sway?” he whispered low with a gravelly baritone that was a fine representation of what he was doing. As though I needed yet another reminder, he was in control of this. “Have I ever explained to you how engine builders check a cylinder head for warpage?”

Oh, Jesus, he was going to do this here? In the middle of a restaurant with his family?

He was trying to win the battle.

Tommy, sitting across from me, choked on his beer and then started laughing, obviously knowing exactly what Jameson was doing.

I couldn’t focus enough to respond, and he went in for the win.

“You see, honey, the cylinder head is the hottest part of the engine and reaches thousands of degrees. Cast iron and aluminum metals used in cylinder heads flex under the high temperatures in a race, causing warpage and head bulging.”

He was trying to kill me. Quickly, to hide any outward arousal from being noticed, I squeezed my thighs together. Jameson grinned, knowing he was now in the lead with a comfortable cushion.

“When this happens, it’s necessary to break the engine down back at the shop and measure the specific tolerance. You start by removing the cylinder head, clean it, and make sure there is no carbon in the cylinder head combustion chambers. When the cylinder is cleaned, you place the cylinder with the combustion chamber facing up in a wide jaw vice. Then, you take a ruler and a feeler gauge in between the bottom of the ruler and the head surface, working the gauge along until it slides in.” He smiled, I didn’t. “Then, on the gauge, it will show a number that will allow the maximum thickness that will enter the gap—”

With heavy breathing, I started a bout of coughing. I couldn’t take it any longer with words like inserting and feeler and thickness. It was too much for a girl with my hormones.

Jameson, the overly confident ass, let out a giggle. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t handle it? I was about to tell you how I find out the highest thickness an engine will allow.”

Emma, a little drunk by now, leaned over the table with wide eyes. Before speaking, she chugged Aiden’s beer. “My God, that even got me going, and he’s my fucking brother!”

Aiden stood to shove Jameson’s shoulder, nodding in approval. “Thanks, man!”

Jameson laughed again, finishing his own beer, completely satisfied with himself. “I win.”

Emma turned to Aiden. “Let’s go, cowboy.”

That was the last we saw of them for a while.

“That was not cool,” was all I said to him for a good thirty minutes.

 

Jameson, needing to redeem himself after that stunt, knew the one thing I would appreciate more than a gift would be him singing for my birthday. I loved his singing voice. It had the perfect combination of rasp and smooth velvet.

When he got up to go to the restroom, I didn’t think anything of it. But when I heard his raspy velvet voice flowing through a microphone, I blushed and hid my face against Alley’s shoulder.

“Oh, my God,” I mumbled as he stepped out from the kitchen of the restaurant, holding a microphone to his lips. With a crooked grin, he began to sing one of my favorite songs of all time by The Beatles, “Something.”

His baritone carried throughout the restaurant causing everyone to turn and listen to his resonant tenor. He had the perfect voice for this song, letting his voice do that drawn out raw crackly whine at the end of each note.

He smiled, finally standing before me.

Jameson dropped to his knees, as he had done in the bedroom earlier, the burn from my cheeks crept across my entire body. Throwing his head back, he belted out the lyrics with such emotion everyone cheered.

I watched as the muscles in his neck strained. He looked up at me, and his free hand came up to cup my cheek softly while he continued to serenade me as his voice dropped lower.

Tears flowed freely, as I was one pathetic-in-love pigizzle. Jameson brought the microphone back to his lips. “Happy birthday, honey.”

Leaning forward, I wrapped my arms around him, crying as he slipped a black box onto my lap.

“What’s that?” He’d already proposed so it obviously wasn’t that.

“Open it.” His eyes sparkled, mirroring the enthusiasm beaming from me.

Curious as to what it was, I opened it to find a beautiful platinum heart locket. I smiled and looked inside to find a picture of us when we were eleven—at the track—sitting on the front of his sprint car. On the other side was a scripture in Italian. “What does it say?”

“It says: To seeing past the speed.”

I started crying again because I knew exactly what that meant and why he chose it. Jimi always told him, “It’s hard to see past the speed when you’re going two hundred miles per hour.”

To Jameson, it meant a hell of a lot more than just racing, as it was his entire life. He couldn’t see past the speed for the longest time, and then when he did, he saw me for what I really was in his life.

He settled beside me and thankfully stopped the dirty talking and singing. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take tonight.

 

The rest of dinner passed quickly. Charlie and Jimi took turns taking shots. I was a little worried that Charlie shouldn’t be drinking that much, but every time I suggested he stop, he blew me off and continued drinking.

Alley was beginning to let loose. Since she didn’t have to worry about Lane, and Jimi and Nancy were around, she was finally able to relax without feeling like a babysitter.

After a while, Aiden and Emma were missing, which I assumed meant they went back up to their room like Jameson and I had done, but I couldn’t be sure. There was plenty of shopping to do in Vegas, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she were forcing Aiden to tag along.

Nancy was sipping her fire drink all the while keeping an eye on everyone. Spencer and Jameson played some childish drinking game with tequila. Bad idea.

And, there I was, drinking my water. Boring.

“Where’s Emma?” Alley asked, taking Jameson’s seat next to me since he was consumed by the silly game.

“Not sure—why?” My eyes shot to Jameson when he shoved Spencer and barked, “You fucking cheated asshole,” loud enough for the entire hotel to hear.

“We should go find her.”

“Why?” I asked. “She’s with Aiden.”

“No, she’s not.” Alley scrunched her eyebrows together, shaking her head. “Aiden is with Tommy at Treasure Island.”

“Oh, well hell... let’s go find her.”

I went over to Jameson and told him where I was going. He wasn’t pleased.

“No, I don’t think so,” was his firm response. “You’re staying by me tonight.”

“Jameson... I’ll only be a minute.”

He insisted Van follow us, which I agreed to. It was actually nice to know I was safe with Van nearby—the dude was fucking huge. He reminded me of some professional body builder. You know the ones who couldn’t put their arms down or wipe their own ass because their arms were so fucking stout? Yeah, them.

 

An hour later, we finally found Emma in a boutique… trying on wedding dresses.

Between everything since the proposal, I hadn’t had time to think about what kind of dress I would wear. By the time December came along, I’d probably be huge. Might as well wear sweatpants.

Emma spotted us as she twirled around in a floor-length flowing gown. “Oh, hey, look Sway.” Her blue eyes sparkled like Jameson’s when he was racing. “You should get this one!”

“Why are you trying on wedding dresses?” Alley asked, snickering. Everything was funny to her tonight.

“For Sway. I’m planning her wedding.”

Alley looked at me, confused.

“You are?” I asked, smiling at her on the pedestal she was perched on, swirling and twirling. I knew Emma would be perfect, but the fact that she assumed I’d let her do it, was funny to me.

“Well... yes. She didn’t exactly say I could but... I want to.” Her smile was so sincere I nodded. “Eeekk!” she squealed. “So what do you think?”

“I’m never going to fit in that come December.”

“December? Why not now? We’re in Vegas.” She motioned around like we didn’t know. “Do it tonight!”

“I want to get married on my mom’s birthday, December fourth.”

“Oh ...” Emma looked down. “I wanted a wedding tonight.”

“Then you get married,” Alley suggested, taking a drink out of her mini bar collection of alcohol in her purse. At least she was prepared. “Although,” she paused, squinting at the bottle from her last shot in her hand, “that might be a little too spontaneous for Aiden.”

“Yeah.” Her face fell slightly as though she had already considered that. “Aiden would have to propose first. I don’t think that’s going to happen.” She carefully took the dress off and placed it over the chair dejectedly.

“Have you asked him what his intentions are?” I rubbed her tiny shoulders, feeling like a mother from 1950 at the use of the word intentions.

“No. He told me he wants to marry me, but he hasn’t proposed yet.” Emma shrugged, losing interest in the wedding planning. “Let’s go find the boys.”

 

When we made it back to the restaurant, nobody was left at our table. Scanning the room, I looked for anyone we knew.

“Ms. Sway, they’re at the Fontana Bar now,” Van said from behind. I was amazed how he was able to keep track of everyone without leaving me. He was like some kind of CIA spy or an ex-Navy Seal.

“Oh, okay.”

I turned to walk out when a short blonde peppy girl stepped in front of me.

“Oh, my God! You’re Sway, like Sway Reins! Jameson Riley’s girlfriend... fiancée!” she corrected, waving her arms around “You’re his fiancée! I saw the proposal on TV. Oh, my God! Can I see the ring?” She held her hand out. “I’m Tori, by the way.”

Before I could show her, the tiny girl grabbed my hand. “OH, MY GOD!” she screamed, bouncing to the point I was actually worried about her brain knocking around inside her skull that much. “It’s soooo beautiful!”

I couldn’t figure out if she was actually crazy or just obsessed with Jameson like everyone else. Maybe she was related to Dana?

Van stepped forward protectively, and eventually we made it away from the crazed girl.

I was not prepared for what was waiting at the Fontana Bar when we arrived, not prepared at all.

Jameson was on the bar, literally on the bar, standing, holding a bottle of tequila up in the air over Charlie, who is lying down on the bar. I’ve never seen that side of my dad, and I was actually a little concerned. It made perfect sense to me now that Andrea took advantage of him.

My thoughts ranged from, “Should he really be drinking this much?” to “Isn’t it harmful in some way?” But then I settled on the fact that he was, in fact, dying of brain cancer. Surely this couldn’t be doing anything worse than what’s already been done to him.

“Swayyyy, how’s my birthdayyyyyy girllllll?” Charlie slurred when I approached the bar.

He could barely hold himself up; Jimi was doing the honor.

“Dad, do you really think you should be drinking that much in your condition?”

“Have you seen my cell phone?” he shouted entirely too loudly in my ear.

“No, I haven’t.” I reached out to steady him when he swayed. “Dad, seriously... you should stop drinking. This can’t be good for you.”

“What the fuck do I care what’s good for me? Nothing is good for me,” he said. “Now call my cell phone, goddamn it.”

And then he was gone. Alley stood beside me, drinking from her personal mini bar. “Where’s Jameson?”

Now that she mentioned it, I hadn’t seen him since he was on the bar. I glanced around but didn’t see him. When my eyes met with Van’s, he smiled, tipping his head toward the dance floor.

Aiden had returned and was now dancing with Jameson, Tommy, and Spencer.

What was even funnier than watching six grown men dancing around like fools, was watching the women who were literally swarming around them. Usually it was the other way around, but every one of those men was good looking. It wasn’t a surprise.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Alley screamed, swinging me toward the dance floor. Before we could make it all the way, the song changed to “Hot in Here,” and I was starting to get nervous.

I really didn’t think being four months pregnant I should be shaking my ass out on the dance floor with my little baby bump, but poor Alley never got to let loose and be twenty-five. I decided to take one for the team.

Before I could make it far, Jameson’s hands were on my hips, pulling me to him on the dance floor. “Come show me that ass.”

With a quick drag, my ass was pressed to his hips.

Hot damn.

We hadn’t danced like this in years. Just as I expected with the way I was pushing myself into him, the dirty heathen camshaft was awakening.

When I arched my back and kissed up and down his neck, Jameson leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back.

“You’re playing with fire, honey.” I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as well as his hot and heavy breath against the shell of my ear.

“Oh, I know.” I turned in his arms. His hands immediately went to my ass.

“Let’s go up to our room for a few minutes,” he suggested hungrily, kissing up and down my neck.

Moments later, we were back in the room, and I was testing out my pineapple theory.

Three minutes later... he was a little worked up from the dance floor, and I’m good at micro-polishing.

“Better?” Jameson warily pulled his shirt back over his head and then fumbled with the hem nervously.

I giggled. “It was never bad... I wanted to test out my pineapple theory.” Another giggle escaped me.

“Does it taste any different?” he whispered, buttoning his jeans. I could tell he was a little embarrassed by this, which had me falling in love with him all over again.

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist, my lips traced along his collarbone. “I’ve always liked the taste... but, yes, it’s sweeter.” I smiled.

He winked. “Let’s go, birthday girl.”

“We’re tied now?”

His hand came up, rubbed down his jaw, and then he smirked playfully, but he never said anything—just smirked.

Why do I feel like he won this round by that smirk?

 

“What’s she doing in there again?” I asked Alley who was again drinking something from the mini bar in her purse.

“Well ...” Alley laughed. “Charlie convinced her and Aiden to get married. I’m pretty sure his exact words were ‘Aiden, take the bull by the horns, and marry that girl!’ It was entertaining.” She smiled, searching her bag.

She was clearly drunk because sober Alley would never let something like this happen. As much as everyone claimed, Aiden was the planner and incredibly indecisive; Alley was, too.

“You didn’t feel the need to stop either one of them?”

“No... it was funny.” Her eyes lit up. “Look, Spencer got me a press-on tattoo!” She began to take her shirt off.

“That’s okay, Alley.” My hands quickly stopped her. “No need to show me.”

“Okay, let’s go back to the bar. I need another one of those delicious lemon things.”

“They’re called lemon drops.” I slung my arm around her, well, tried. Alley was like four inches taller than I was. Walking toward the bar, I voiced my concern. “I wish I could drink.”

She laughed. “You will be soon, and then I won’t be able to again.”

“What do you mean—are you guys going to have another one?”

Alley smiled. “Yeah, we’ve talked about trying after the first of the year. Lane will be four in April; I think it’s time to have another one.”

“That’s great, Alley.”

Though I held concern for Spencer parenting another child, I couldn’t really say that because I myself was no better.

The next hour was spent watching Alley drink entirely too many lemon drops and texting Jameson, who was with Tommy and Spencer at Treasure Island again. I hadn’t seen Jimi or Nancy for a while; I assumed they went to bed.

Eventually I met up with Jameson again and was surprised, to say the least—if that were possible anymore with this family. You’d think at some point nothing would surprise me, but that wasn’t the case at all. Every day it was something new. It was like a surprise party every day.

“Where are your shoes?” My eyes dropped to his bare feet.

Jameson shrugged. “Over there.”

“Over where?” His shrug gave nothing away.

“Huh?” he asked, distracted, so I slapped at his shoulder for not paying attention. “That guy.” He pointed at an older man in the corner. “He wanted to walk in my shoes for a day. I gave him my shoes.”

Examining the man, he was in fact wearing Jameson’s Puma shoes, or at least trying to. They looked to be about three sizes too big on him.

And then, I finally noticed Jameson’s attire. He was dressed in a white Elvis costume. I have no idea how this escaped me until now.

“Where did the costume come from?”

“That’s what he had that I wanted.” He grinned widely and nodded while holding up his arm of tassels.

I smiled, knowing where this was going. “So you traded?”

“Yep, pretty cool, huh?”

This was exactly why I say he has the maturity of a seven-year-old.

“You gonna sing for me now?”

And this is why we are maybe sixteen when combined together in age.

“I’ll sing whatever you want honey.” He whispered pressing me firmly against his Elvis costume.

I noticed Aiden was acting really strange over by Spencer, who was holding him up. It was difficult considering Aiden acted similarly to a jumping bean.

“What’s wrong with him?” I voiced my concern for Aiden.

“Don’t know.” Jameson shrugged, uninterested in his spotter’s appearance and more on the beer in his hand.

I ignored Aiden for a few minutes because Jameson was singing, “Can’t help Falling in Love” in my ear. But the more Aiden bounced around, the more I realized there was something actually wrong with him. Not only was he acting bizarre, but he was also perspiring to the point where his light blue polo shirt was soaked.

“Seriously, what happened?” Aiden continued to bounce. “What’s he on?”

Aiden reached out to Jameson’s cheek, only to be delivered a left-handed pop to his shoulder.

Not only did Jameson not like being touched, but Aiden was also soaking wet.

“We don’t really know ...” Spencer paused for a moment as his hand came across Aiden’s chest to hold him in place and away from Jameson. “He started acting weird.”

Moving from Jameson’s lap, I grabbed Aiden’s slick face in my hands; he was burning up. “Aiden, what did you take?” His pupils were dilated to the point where you couldn’t actually see the blue in his eyes any longer.

“Nothing—it’s getting hot in here, let’s take off all our clothes!” Aiden wailed out his best impression of “Hot in Here” by Nelly.

“Oh, God.” I covered my head with my hands. “Jameson?”

“What?”

“Were you with him?”

Jameson rubbed the back of his neck, a soft chuckled escaped him. “No, I was in the bathroom. Where were you?”

“With Alley, looking for Emma.”

“Where’s Emma?” Aiden asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Trying on wedding dresses.”

“What?” Jameson asked, laughing.

Aiden’s eyes got bigger. He was definitely on something.

“Yeah, um... don’t ask.” Attempting to diffuse his surprise, in fear he’d have a heart attack soon, I lightly patted his back.

“You know,” Aiden spoke up looking toward Spencer, “if you ever needed to hide a body, I’d help you.”

“We should... get him some water,” Spencer replied, looking at Jameson and me.

“Really, I would,” Aiden told him with a straight face—all joking aside. “I would never tell anyone either.”

Spencer patted his back, propping him up in the booth. “I know, buddy.”

I yawned and helped them get Aiden controlled and drinking water.

“Honey, you should go get some sleep.” Jameson kissed my forehead. “I’ll come with you?”

“No... that’s okay,” I told him, motioning to Aiden. “You stay with him. I’m worried.”

“I’m great, Sway!” Aiden announced proudly as though he’d been jump-started. “I feel alive!”

“I know, buddy.” I ruffled his blonde sweaty mess of hair.

“I’ll come with you, Sway,” Alley announced, removing herself from Spencer’s lap. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

Once inside the hotel room, Alley kept rambling on and on about wanting to do something drastic so I convinced her to cut her hair. Now, when I encouraged her to do this, I was envisioning maybe some layers to add bounce to her straight, golden blond hair that hung about the middle of her back.

Alley disappeared into the bathroom for about an hour while I watched reality TV.

Now that I was in the room, I wasn’t tired. I was also worried about what was happening in the bathroom with a drunken Alley, alone with a pair of scissors and two bottles of hair dye.

Where the hair dye came from was beyond me. But it was also Vegas and I didn’t question it.

When the door opened, I realized leaving her alone was a bad idea. The result was not at all positive. She looked like she lost a paintball fight with a hairdresser named Shoniqua and a pair of scissors.

“You look great!” I lied.

Her hair had been chopped almost as short as Emma’s had and the color, well... that was a little harder to describe. It looked as though she intended to add some black highlights … or maybe brown. Now she looked like s’mores exploded on her head.

I kept reassuring her that it looked great. I didn’t know where the lies were coming from, but I couldn’t stop myself. Alley scared the shit out of me, and telling her the truth did not seem possible or wise. I knew I would need to stop lying at some point and calmly tell her she needed to get this fixed in the morning, but I didn’t know how to at that point. When it finally hit her, she started vomiting and crying for me to fix it.

Luckily, I didn’t have to lie any longer, as the next few hours were spent holding s’mores hair as she puked and then passed out on the bed.

 

I was drunk, but it was reassuring to know that everyone else around me was worse off. There I sat in the Viva Las Vegas wedding chapel while Emma and Aiden got married. I still had my Elvis costume on because, for one, it was fucking awesome, and two, I gave the dude my clothes. I had nothing else to wear.

Spencer leaned against my shoulder. “Dad is totally going to kill her for this.”

I smiled, taking another drink of my beer. He was going to kill her, but that was the least of my worries right now. Keeping up with Charlie was my main concern. The guy was out of fucking control. He was exhausting to watch.

Aiden could barely stand on his own two feet as the Elvis impersonator said the vows.

After Sway snuck away, we figured out Aiden had accidentally taken Ecstasy when a girl told him it was a breath mint.

When Emma and Aiden were officially married, we made our way back to Treasure Island once again, where I may or may not have sung “Hound Dog” on the bar. I couldn’t be sure because I really didn’t remember. I do remember prying some hooker off poor Charlie when he looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. I distracted him by convincing him to play pool with me, trying to sober him up. It didn’t work. Instead, he decided the pool sticks were entirely too much work and opted to use his hands. One straggler ball got out of hand and hit the wall behind the bouncer’s head, where it stayed.

We were asked to leave after that.

At around 3 a.m. Charlie was still going strong, and I was moments away from passing out. I had no other choice but to dilute two Tylenol PMs into his beer. An hour later, he was sound asleep in his room.

Another hour later and I was curled up next to Sway, only to discover Alley curled around her, too. I pushed Alley off the bed onto the floor. It didn’t look like Alley, but had her long ass legs and the same clothes as before. I decided I was too tired to give a shit.

Spencer was in charge of Emma and Aiden, neither one of them was in any condition to be left alone, especially Aiden. So I wasn’t surprised when I got a text from him at six in the morning that if I ever wanted to see my spotter make it to the next race alive, I’d come get him right now.

Apparently, Aiden had woken up and couldn’t decipher where he was at, and ended up peeing on Spencer. I personally thought this was hilarious. Spencer did not.

In the morning, Emma had some explaining to do and, for a reason I did not agree with, she wanted me to do the explaining for her. I wasn’t okay with that for a number of reasons.

“Jameson, please!” she begged. “You have to talk to them for me.”

“No.” I shook my head. “This is your doing. You tell them what you did. I don’t want any part of that conversation.”

And I really didn’t. They still weren’t happy that Spencer and I were present when Emma decided to get the Trash-R-Us token. Wait until they find out we were both present when she decided, on a whim, to get married. I was sure that wasn’t going down well.

“That’s not fair!” She stomped her foot like a goddamn child in the middle of the casino lobby. “I helped you with the candles the other night.”

“All right.” I turned to face her; tears streamed down her cheeks, and her mascara smeared under her eyes. “That was for Sway... this,” I held up her left hand pointing to the quarter machine ring she was now wearing, “is entirely your fault.”

“Why didn’t you stop me—you were there?”

“Yes, I was there, but if you remember correctly, I was just as drunk as you, and wearing an Elvis costume. I don’t think I was in any position to help.”

“Mom and Dad are going to kill us.”

“No, they’re going to kill you, not us,” I pointed out. “At least it’s not a tattoo. Just take the ring off, and they’ll never know.”

“Good point.” She looked down at the plastic ring. “But I don’t want to take it off.”

“Then don’t.” I shrugged, walking toward the espresso bar to get Sway’s mocha. “I don’t really care if you tell them or not.”

“Jameson, please help me!”

“Emma, you got married. Big deal, you’re twenty-one. Legally, you’re old enough to make your own goddamn decisions. Why do you even care?”

I honestly couldn’t understand why this was a big deal.

“Yeah, but...”

“But what?” I looked at the barista, tossing some money on the counter. “Can I get a decaf white mocha, please?”

The young girl behind the counter smiled. “Are you Jameson Riley?”

Emma giggled, knowing where this was going.

Shooting Emma a glare, I replied with an annoyed, “Last time I checked.”

The girl, not much bigger than Emma, smiled again, handing me an empty cup. “Can you sign this for me and, oh, can I get a picture?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The instant I said that she practically jumped over the goddamn counter to get to me. Emma snapped a picture with the girl’s phone while I signed her cup.

“Here you go.” I handed her the cup.

When I turned around, people surrounded us. I couldn’t fucking move, and neither could Emma. Handing Emma Sway’s coffee, I instructed her to take it upstairs, and I’d be up in minute.

Well, that minute turned into forty, and I was still standing there signing autographs. Word must have gotten out that I was at the Bellagio. Not that I’m as famous as, let’s say, Brad Pitt, but apparently these people were NASCAR fans. It was getting out of hand when they had me backed into a corner of the lobby. To my right, I noticed the men’s bathroom so I ducked inside and left the crowd chanting my name. I quickly realized I was trapped in there.

My positive attitude joined the witness protection program after a good twenty minutes in a stall by myself. This was a disaster. I even tried calling 911, but my cell phone didn’t have any reception. After an hour, my positive attitude returned when I heard my savior.

“All right, people!” Van yelled. “Let the poor guy go.”

Thank fucking God!

I almost stuck my tongue out at them as I left, but I refrained and made my way to the restaurant where we were supposed to be eating breakfast before Sway and I flew to Key West.

When I arrived with Van, everyone was already seated, so I sat next to Sway. “Sorry I’m late, honey. I got attacked.”

Sway giggled. “I heard some woman screaming about Jameson Riley being in the lobby.”

“Nice of you to help.” I rolled my eyes, pulling her closer. “So, fiancée,” I’d never get tired of saying that. I couldn’t wait to say wife. “Now that today is officially your birthday, are you ready for dinner together tonight in Key West?”

I thought she was paying attention, but apparently, she wasn’t. Instead, she was looking at Emma sitting next to her and the vending machine ring she was proudly sporting.

Sway leaned against my shoulder. “Did they ...?”

“Yep.” I told her.

“Oh, God ...” she whispered, eyes wide.

“Yep.”

Aiden, who was still confused as to what actually happened in his Ecstasy-induced stupor, whispered in my ear, “What the hell is she talking about?”

“Dude, you got married last night.” I held up his hand. “Congratulations.”

His eyes widened and shifted in horror between Emma, who was staring at him, and my dad who had a set scowl on his face, glowering at Emma.

I assumed, at that point, Dad knew what had happened last night. Aiden would never do something like this sober. I mean look at him. It takes him half an hour to decide how his eggs will be served in the morning, and then if it’s not done right, he has a panic attack. Imagine how he felt knowing he got married on a whim in Vegas. Enough said.

Emma, trying to place the blame on anyone she could, instead of owning up to getting married, pointed toward Charlie who was enjoying his waffles in peace, until now.

“He made me do it.”

Charlie let out a laugh, but continued to eat and drink his black coffee. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he told her.

“You knew I would!” Emma shouted.

Charlie opened his mouth to say something, but instead chuckled with a quick shrug.

Things came to an abrupt halt when Alley appeared at the table with an amused Spencer.

“You didn’t think to stop me, Sway?” Alley punched Sway’s arm a little too rough for my comfort.

I was on my feet in a second, standing between Alley and Sway.

“Calm down, Alley,” I growled, shielding Sway.

“She let my cut my hair last night and dye it!”

“It looks fine.” I snickered. It didn’t look fine. It looked like shit.

“You would think so,” she scorned and then stomped away to the spa, I assumed to get her hair fixed.

Spencer leaned over the table. “This is awesome.” He smiled, his eyes darting around at all of us. “Finally, she did something stupid, and I didn’t!” He pumped his fist in the air in celebration. “Best fucking night ever!”

The rest of the morning, I couldn’t figure out what was more entertaining: Emma explaining the video of them getting married to my parents, as well as the pictures that were taken last night, or Alley trying to kill Spencer for teasing her.

The scream he let out when she pummeled his ass in the lobby sounded something like a cat being gangbanged.

Sometimes being related to Spencer and Emma was reason enough to put yourself up for adoption. At least I was now on my way to Key West with Sway, finally alone.