Blend Line – There is a line painted on the track near the apron and extending from the pit road exit into the first turn. When leaving the pits, a driver must stay below it to safely “blend” back into traffic.
We were finally in the bedroom. The windows and doors were open as the humid air surrounded us, dampening our burning skin.
The hurricane was losing strength outside, but the power was still out and the palm trees swayed in the steering winds while debris continued to hit the sides of the house.
It was slightly arduous to define the moment we were in, but we were on an island, alone.
Well, the Rain Man could be out there somewhere, but right then, it was just Mama Wizard and Dirty Heathen.
His right hand swept across my sodden upper thigh, hitching it up his hip, and he rolled us over so I was on top of him. I looked down at him, his gaze was intense and I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned forward and captured his lips with mine, molding us together.
Did you ever think about what each kiss should feel like? Were they all epic fairytale kisses? Should they be?
I could only say what they felt like with my dirty heathen. When his lips touched mine—every single time they touched mine—I felt it everywhere. From my toes to the tip of my nose. My heart would beat faster, my stomach fluttered with butterflies as though I was falling in love all over again. It was so consuming, so intense, I never wanted to come up for air. I would lose myself to him entirely with each kiss. Twenty years from now that might be different, but for now, I was going to enjoy my butterflies and tingling.
With the storm surging once again, pelting the windows and doors with rain, my mind drifted back to our time in Savannah when our relationship really took a twist.
This was different.
Back then, I didn’t know what I was to Jameson. Now, I had no doubt in my mind that he loved me and wanted all of me, even the crazy irrational side that had no sympathy for his shark scratch or his geographical sense.
“You are so beautiful,” Jameson murmured against my lips.
For so long Jameson held so much of himself back, afraid of letting anyone, including me, see the real him. But the thing he never realized was that was all I ever saw.
I never saw him as Jimi Riley’s son. I never saw the famous Jameson—the Jameson who could rarely go anywhere without being hunted down by pit lizards or garage groupies. I always saw the eleven-year-old shit head who knew what he wanted. I saw the confident, steadfast man that he became.
Now that we were married, he seemed different. He appeared to have let go of the barrier he’d put up around himself and let me love him for who he was knowing that I would never break his heart.
He showed me passion I’d never dreamed of with every touch and every kiss. He let me love him in all the ways I already did.
Even so, it was easy to see the change that occurred in him. He was baring his soul, his heart, to his wife.
Jameson also knew me. He knew what each moan meant. He knew that when I bit down on my lower lip, I was relishing in everything he was giving me. He also knew what it felt like to have my hands caressing his body, as I knew what his felt like. We knew everything there was to know about each other.
Jameson and I were good at the dirty talking and press forging, but this time, it wasn’t even close to that.
This time, it was slow. Every movement was slow motion. Our breathing was low, but ragged. Our movements were dawdling, but passionate. Our kisses were deep, but tender.
“Look at me, honey,” he whispered and moved so he was hovering over me again. His left hand was behind the nape of my neck, his right resting against my thigh he wrapped around his waist, and then he began to move. Never breaking his steely gaze from mine, my lips moved from his to kiss his shoulders, memorizing how the muscles felt against the sensitive skin of my lips. His warm breath washed over me, overriding any coherent thought I might have had.
It didn’t take long before our desire gave way, and our movements were driven. Jameson’s hand was still wrapped around the back of my neck, his fingers digging into my skin. His right hand was on my hip, securing me to him as his movements sped. Our tattered breathing filled the air, and when we finally let go, it was just as intense as it had always been, maybe more.
Our foreheads rested against each other, and I listened to his heartbeat slow.
“I love you, Sway,” he whispered to me, winded.
“I love you, too.”
I felt as if everything I’d been through recently was like this hurricane pulsating outside.
It was almost some sort of metaphor for what our lives had become. A hurricane came to shore destroying everything in its path, leaving you with the devastating aftermath.
I’d learned over the past year that it wasn’t about the storm. It was about the aftermath and what you made of it and how you recovered from it. Sure, some storms in your life could be so damaging to you that it was hard to come back. But coming back, rebounding, restarting, that made you who you were. That defined you and those pages within your story as my mother said.
The more I thought about what my mom’s letter meant to me, the more I realized she was exactly right.
I was going to decide how this was written. I was going to write my own happy ending.
Despite creating my own happy ending, one thing held true, you couldn’t avoid the storm. Sooner or later, it would find you. But the best part about a storm, in my mind, was relying on the one you loved to pull you through it.
Through everything, Jameson was here to help me navigate this storm. And I let him.
Still naked, laying there for a good hour, we listened to the waves breaking against the shore as the sun began to rise. The lighting in the room had changed from cerulean to a soft but glowing pink with ginger hues.
“I miss Charlie,” I whispered against Jameson’s bare chest, tracing circles over his scar from where his chest tube was after his accident in Pocono last year.
“I do, too,” he murmured, placing a kiss on my forehead. “He was a special man to a lot of people.”
“I felt like he came over that morning to say goodbye.”
“I know what you mean... before I left for Daytona he pulled me aside and gave me this long speech about how I needed to take care of you and Axel.”
I propped myself up on my elbow. “What did he say?”
His lips twitched into a smile, blinking slowly.
“He told me that you will always be his little girl.” His hand brushed my hair away from my face. “He told me that no matter what—put you first, and I’ll have no regrets in life. He also said not to work my life away, and he told me... that he felt like I’d always been a son to him.”
Slumping back against his chest, I felt the vibrations of his voice as he continued speaking. “You know... Andrea and Mallory asked if we wanted to put a memorial race on the schedule for the weekend of Charlie’s birthday.”
Choking back tears, it took me a moment to actually speak. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I found that even if you moved on to acceptance, it was hard to let go entirely.
For me, the hardest part was letting go, but it was a necessity. Healing and acceptance couldn’t begin until then.
You remembered, though, and that was what you should do. That was the healthy thing to do. Hold on tightly to those memories, as they were all you had left.
They were all we had left.
THE REST OF our days on the island were usually spent indoors and in bed with each other.
We made it to other parts of the house, but spent most of our time enjoying each other. This year was going to be crazy, and I knew that. I intended on taking advantage of the alone time, and he seemed to be on the exact same page.
The disaster of getting here didn’t end once we were arrived. It seemed anytime we ventured outside something bad happened.
The one time we took a swim in the ocean, I was stung by a fucking jellyfish.
This wouldn’t have been so horrible, but it hurt like a motherfucker, and Jameson spent more time trying to convince me he should piss on my leg than helping with the burning. Again, I wasn’t impressed with his lack of concern for my burn. He seemed more concerned with the fact that he needed to pee on me.
“Listen, asshole! This is not the time to be marking your woman. I need serious help!”
He threw his head back in a fit of laughter and then stopped suddenly, glaring. “It’s just a scratch.”
He was mocking me, and I was not having it.
“That’s a scratch.” I pointed at his shark scratch. “This …” I gestured toward my very red-welted calf, and quite possibly the worst jellyfish burn ever handed out. “Is a sting... and it burns!”
“I refuse to have this argument with you again,” his fiery stare shut me up for a moment.
I sat there in the hot, white sand, blowing on my burn when he chuckled. “It’d be a lot simpler if you’d just admit for one, it’s more than a scratch, and two, let me relieve the pain.” He winked. Fucking winked.
Resorting back to childlike tendencies when angry, I threw sand in his face. “Jerk.”
Our entire trip was like that.
When out-and-about, it was horrible. When alone together in the confines of the house, nothing else mattered but us.
We said fuck it with exploring and just had sex.
A part of me wondered if this would be our marriage. If so, we’d spend a large amount of time inside.
When it was time to leave, I think we were both ready to see Axel.
This was the longest we’d been away from him, and I couldn’t wait to see his smiling face. For only being two months old, he smiled more than any baby I’d ever seen.
Why wouldn’t he smile?
His parents were awesome. Sure, we were crazy as hell but still... awesome.
I knew the trip home would be just as much of a catastrophe as the trip here, but I was surprised it was worse.
It started with the boat ride back to Rio De Janeiro, where Jameson vomited twice over the side of the boat, but refused to admit he was seasick.
Instead, he blamed it on the amount of water he’d swallowed in the waterfall we found on the island.
Yes, he did swallow an abundance of water but it was hardly my fault. He was the one who thought it would be cool to fuck up against the rocks beneath the steady stream of water. We had to stop after a few minutes because we did ingest a great deal of water, but also something slimy was near us, and I really didn’t want to hear about another scratch from Jameson.
Originally, I envisioned it like Cocktail with Tom Cruise, but it was nothing like that at all.
Have you ever tried it? Water splashes you in the face, it’s hard to steady your feet, and did I mention that there was something slimy in there with us?
The hilarious part about the entire escapade was me asking Jameson his thoughts on the penis fish. I’d never seen him run so fast.
What sealed the deal and made this quite possibly the worst trip ever was when the guy sitting behind Jameson’s seat on the flight kept kicking him.
Utterly annoyed, he rolled his head over to one side, side-eying me. “I’m gonna fucking kill him if he kicks my seat one more time.”
“Just relax,” I urged in a calm voice I’d perfected since marrying him and becoming a parent. “I’d like to go home, not to jail.”
Just as I expected, the asshole kicked Jameson’s seat again. What happened next was another experience in my life that was difficult to describe. Jameson and the asshole behind us got in a fight, an actual fistfight brawl over kicking chairs.
“Nice job, asshole. Real fucking mature,” I said as we were being escorted to security after landing in Dallas.
Nursing a bloody lip, he said, “He had it coming.”
Jameson was placed on a “No Fly” list for threatening a flight attendant and punching a security guard... security guard being the guy who was kicking his chair. Who knew?
Needless to say, to actually get home, Wes had to come get us because Jameson was not allowed to fly with normal people any longer.
When he returned from security I asked, “How’d that work out for you? Feel good about yourself?”
He had no answer for me. No answer, I was amused with that at least.
When we finally made it home to Elma, it was both a relief and yet another clusterfuck.
We had picked up Axel from Alley and Spencer’s apartment on Tuesday night. Jameson had to fly out Wednesday morning for Vegas so I had to hurry and pack everything Axel and I would need for the next week so we could go with him.
I was standing in the garage, getting ready to open the door to go into the kitchen, and I heard noises and a voice coming from inside the house.
Retrieving our bags from the back of the Expedition, Jameson walked up to me holding the bags and smiled down at Axel. “Open the door, honey.”
“There’s someone in there,” I whispered, watchful.
“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in uncertainty.
We’d been through so much on our honeymoon it was hard to believe anything else could possibly go wrong.
“I hear voices in there,” I told him, removing Axel from his car seat. “What should we do?”
“Uh... grab the tire iron out of the Expedition,” he put on his manly protective face. “I’ll call Van.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in his apartment, I think.”
I went into protective Mama Wizard mode and hunched over Axel.
Jameson slowly moved inside the house, with the tire iron in hand.
Van was there in seconds, holding a gun.
“Where’d that come from?” I asked, eyeing the black handgun.
“I always carry a gun, Ms. Sway.” Van offered a nervous smile.
“What if they have a gun?”
“Run,” Jameson said over his shoulder as if I was stupid for even asking this.
The thought that someone might possibly be inside my home with a gun made my blood run cold. I would kill anyone who would harm my little flailing spaz.
When we made our way inside the laundry room we could hear the voices coming from the family room. Van motioned for Jameson to stay with us as he made his way through the kitchen.
We didn’t stay—we followed closely behind our badass Navy Seal.
“What are you two... never mind... just stay behind me.”
All four of us slowly shuffled throughout our gigantic house, room by room, as I carried the flailing spaz with us.
Axel, who usually remained fairly quiet, chose that exact moment to start cooing at his daddy.
We heard glass breaking and then a women’s voice said, “Oh, shit... pick that up.”
I knew right then who that was.
Jameson looked over his shoulder at me, glaring. “I’ll fucking kill her if she has my underwear!”
Van spun around to face us, his brown eyes dark and contemplating. “Do you know who it is?”
“Dana... that’s Dana’s voice.”
“You mean Dana, the crazy-stalker-next-door-neighbor, Dana?”
“Yes,” we both said as Jameson took Axel from me.
“I’d better hold him. If I don’t, I may possibly kill her.”
“What should we do?” I asked, looking between Jameson and Van.
“We need to defend our domain,” Jameson proclaimed, handing Axel back to me.
I giggled at his fierce expression.
Van nodded. “Damn straight.”
They made their way into the office to look over the security cameras to find out what room she was in.
Sure enough, she was in our bedroom.
After everything that had happened to us lately, I had a feeling we’d be in wheelchairs and this shit would still be occurring. Never a dull moment, that was for sure.
We stepped inside our master bedroom, Van with a gun, Jameson with a tire iron, and me standing behind him with our flailing cooing spaz, who just sneezed.
“Bless you,” I whispered, kissing the top of his rusty curls.
Dana froze, standing in front of our dresser with an armful of Jameson’s underwear while Cooper, stood there staring at my underwear drawer.
What a bunch of fucking sickos.
I had this fear they would start asking us to put lotion on our skin.
“What the fuck? Put those back!” Jameson ordered.
“I... um... I... shit...” Dana squeaked out, dropping the underwear, her frantic eyes looked toward our Navy Seal.
“You have five seconds to get out, or I will shoot you,” Van warned in a stern voice he used when in his protector mode. It sounded like Christian Bale in Batman.
Suddenly, Cooper and Dana made a run for it and were out the door, without our underwear.
“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?” Van asked, putting his gun inside the front of his pants.
“Yes,” we both mumbled, spent from everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
An hour later, Van went back to his apartment over the garage, and Jameson and I packed for the Vegas race while Axel played in his bouncy chair beside us.
When we finally had the last of everything packed, the doorbell rang.
“If that’s Dana, we’re moving,” Jameson told me and picked up the tire iron beside his feet.
I really was expecting it to be Dana when I answered the door, but no, it was Spencer.
“I was thinking you could help me with something,” he greeted me. “You’re—”
“No, I’m not helping.” I cut him off and walked into the kitchen to find a much needed drink.
He kept throwing ideas out for ways I could help him get back in Alley’s good graces—he’d apparently pissed her off. All of them I quickly dismissed as trite and lackluster. I refused to help anymore. I’d done my good deeds.
“Oh, yeah... how’d it work out with Dana in your house?” he asked, leaning against the counter.
“What?” I slowly turned my head toward him.
“I forgot to tell you....” He burst out laughing. “I let her in.”
“Get the fuck out!” I yelled, pointing at the door. “Get the fuck out right now!”
“No,” he argued.
“Fine.” I chugged the beer in my hand before slamming it down on the counter. “Paybacks are a motherfucker, Spencer!”
He threw his head back with one loud, bellowing laugh.
This was war.
The next morning, I put my plan into action
“Wow, no bullshit—do you think it will work?” I asked Van as he explained how this particular taser would work.
Spencer had fucked with the wrong man.
“Yep, it’s flawless.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Is this thing legal?” I held up the taser.
Van adjusted my hand away from the trigger and away from his body with a laugh.
“Well, no... it’s not legal, but it’s either that or you could hit him over the head with a hammer.”
“I wanna hurt him, not kill him.” I took a step toward the door. “C’mon, let’s get outta here before the sheriff comes back.”
Van and I had snuck into the sheriff’s office this morning to snatch a taser. I really thought a taser would come in handy with Dana stalking me and my shitfuck of a brother assisting her.
“Good idea, you’re already on a ‘No Fly’ list.”
“Hardly my fault,” I mumbled, walking to my car.
It was around six in the morning, and we were all set to fly to Vegas this afternoon when Van turned to me. “Hey, so, Logan and Lucas were asking if they could come with us to Vegas.”
“Fuck,” I sighed.
I hated to say no after everything they’d been through, but I also did not want any drama in Vegas. I needed to concentrate on racing and not babysitting the Lucifer twins.
I agreed, only because Andrea agreed to come along as well, but I did sit the twins down prior to boarding the plane. “Okay, if you are going to come with us, we have to set a few ground rules. First off, no asking me any questions. Second, if you do anything besides look at Axel, I will strangle both of you. Third, I have duct tape—if you fuck with me—I will use it.”
“Got it,” they both said, nodding with wide smiles before running toward the plane.
I had a feeling this was not going to be a positive experience.
Van looked over at me and reached for the bags. “You actually sound worried.”
“Spend more than five minutes around them and you’ll understand,” I told him, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
The plane ride was a complete disaster, as usual. The twins never stopped talking. Sway spent the entire time soothing Axel who cried the entire two hours, and Emma and Aiden fought the entire trip.
I had a feeling they didn’t want to tell anyone why they were fighting, but I was beginning to think it might actually be something serious by the way she was crying.
“What the fuck is going on between you two?” I asked Aiden once we got off the plane and loaded our bags into the waiting Expedition.
“You should talk to her about that... she’s made it pretty fucking evident I have no say in any of this,” he grumbled, walking away from me.
Besides the time in Eldora last year when another spotter got in Aiden’s face from something I did on the track, I’d never seen Aiden worked up or angry. Now he actually resembled me.
I just blew it off. I had way too much on my mind with the race to try and solve other people’s problems.
Once we were at the track, the reporters and fans had some sort of obsession with Sway and Axel, wanting pictures of all of us. I didn’t mind, but I also didn’t want Axel in the spotlight so soon. This newfound fascination left Sway and Axel camping out in the motor coach most of the weekend with Van.
“HOW’S THE CAR today?”
“It’s really fast.” I smiled. “Yesterday, we had the car in race trim so we’ll see. It’s not just having a fast car... it’s tires, it’s fuel, and, more importantly, position on the track,” I told the reporter.
I enjoyed racing in Vegas, as I loved the one-point-five mile tracks. With the asphalt surface and twenty degree banking it made for some exciting racing. I also loved the fact they had a dirt track there.
Who wouldn’t?
“Now Justin West drove your car last weekend and pulled off a win for you in Rockingham. Do you think Justin has what it takes to make it in the Cup series full-time?”
“Without a doubt, but that’s not what Justin’s interested in. He’s a sprint car guy. If he wasn’t—I know Jimi would be hiring another driver by now. Both Justin and Tyler are incredibly talented drivers.”
“Midway through last season everything seemed to take a turn for the worst after your wreck. Was there ever a point where you just said this may not be the season for me?” Neil, a reporter with SPEED, asked me while I stood next to my car before the race.
“Yes and no. I wanted to say it... I felt it, but everyone was pushing me to continue on, and I’m glad they did. That’s why I was able to come back from it and win. We don’t give these behind the scenes guys enough credit for everything they do. It was because of them I was able to do it.”
I didn’t want to come out and say who helped me, only because it was none of the media’s business.
“It looks like this season may be a repeat?”
“I don’t know about that but I’m sure gonna try,” I told him, wrapping my arm around Sway, who stood next to me holding Axel.
Neil turned looked at Sway. “You recently lost your father. Is it hard being around racing so much, knowing the impact he had on the racing community?”
Sway smiled softly looking down at Axel. “No, it is what it is. Charlie will always hold a special spot in a lot of people’s lives, but especially mine. He was more than a father to me—he had to be. He raised me by himself,” Sway said. “He would have wanted us to continue living our lives. That’s all anyone can do.”
I glared at Neil for even bringing up Charlie.
“Well, good luck today, Jameson, and congratulations on the baby.”
Watching Sway before the race, smiling at Axel, I couldn’t believe how well she’d adapted to all this. She just went with the flow of everything. I mean, Christ, she’d just lost her father a few weeks back, but here she was, supporting me and being a mother to our son.
“I can’t believe how well you just... go with the flow,” I said to her once Neil left.
“Is that supposed to be dirty?” she asked, adjusting her hold on Axel. His eyes peeked over her shoulder peering out at the line of cars.
“No, silly girl.” I laughed, kissing the top of her head. “I just... thank you.”
After the National Anthem, Sway left with Axel to go up to the towers where they’d watch the race, and I got inside the car.
“You copy, Aiden?” I asked when I got my helmet on.
“Ten-four, loud and clear.”
Checking switches and adjusting my belts, I asked, “What about you Kyle, you copy?”
“Yep, gotcha.”
“You got five laps to green, do you see your pit box when you come around. Spencer’s waving at you.”
“Yeah, I see him.” I laughed. “It’s hard to miss his egg head.”
“Watch your RPMs as you come by?” Aiden said. “That should be pit road speed.”
“3900.”
“Okay, so 3900, second gear when you hit pit road, remember that,” Kyle reminded me. “We don’t need a penalty.”
“All right... let’s have a good race here, boys,” I said, tugging on my belts.
“Ten-four, just take your time. It’s a long race, stay focused.”
“Keep me calm.”
Once the race was underway, it was hard to think of anything but the race.
I was battling for second place with Colin Shuman and Paul Leighty was right on my ass.
“Is that legal?” I asked when Paul darted below the line to pass me on the inside.
“Three wide... two wide... all clear behind,” Aiden announced. “Down on the line. Thirty-nine on your bumper.”
“Yes, it is,” Kyle said with a laugh. It was rare for anyone to pass me on the inside. I was known for hugging the line.
“Does that mean ...”
“Yes, it does.”
“Thirty-four at your left rear... two-wide, clear.”
“Oh, goddamn it!” I slammed my fists on the steering wheel and for good measure—I tossed my water bottle across the cockpit.
“Pretty much.” I knew I couldn’t win them all, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from wanting to.
Remember that saying, “Say when?” I didn’t know when to say, “Say when.”
I’d always want more, but the longer I raced, the more I realized every other driver was exactly like me, always wanting more.
“Stop booing. Everyone is trying very hard,” Emma said, suddenly looking up from her TMZ magazine. Why she was looking at that was beyond me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I punched her shoulder and ripped the magazine out of her hand. “Your brother just got his ass handed to him on a pass that should have been illegal. Stop acting like a damn cheerleader.”
“Sportsmanship. Try it,” she replied, taking her magazine back with force.
I went back to listening to the in-car audio.
Next to me, Nancy played with Axel, laughing at every little noise he made.
“The bottom is good... I just can’t arch it in like I did yesterday,” Jameson said as he battled again with Colin Shuman, the new driver who took Darrin’s place.
I met Colin on Saturday and didn’t think too highly of him. I quickly put him in his place when he winked at me.
“No, no!” I told him, pushing him against the wall of the media center before Jameson saw. “You fuck with me or Jameson and I will rip your balls off.”
I must have been intimidating because he apologized and had been racing Jameson clean today—so far.
“We can do this, just be patient and charge to the front,” Kyle said after they fell back to tenth when a lug nut stuck on the right rear during a pit stop.
“Cautions out, cautions out... smoker in turn two,” Aiden told him around lap two hundred.
“Who is it?”
“Forty-two, stay high.”
“Pit road is ooopppeeen!” Aiden exclaimed. “Watch the ten car... he’s taken fuel only.”
I was surprised he was returning to a normal mood. All weekend he and Emma had been fighting, and refused to tell anyone why. I decided to try again.
“What’s with you and Aiden?”
“Nothing... why?” she responded without looking up from her magazine.
“Well, for one, you two have barely spoken these last few days, and two, you haven’t stopped crying.”
Emma finally looked up from her magazine and glanced over at Axel, then back to me.
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Emma was the type of girl who cared so much about everyone else she put her own feelings aside. She was crazy, yes, but she was probably the best friend and sister anyone could ask for.
I didn’t mind crazy people for two reasons: If not for pure entertainment value, they made you feel slightly better in regards to your own sanity. For this reason, I surrounded myself with them.
“I never did thank you for everything you’ve done lately... so thanks,” I said, slinging my arm around her tiny shoulders. “With the wedding, the baby shower... all of it, thank you.”
She burst into tears. “You’re... welcome,” she wailed, clinging to me.
“Okay, see... something’s wrong... what is it?”
As the race continued, Emma poured her heart out to Nancy and me. She explained that Aiden was feeling neglected by her spending all her time planning the wedding and then Charlie’s funeral, and on top of that... she was pregnant.
The worst part was that Aiden told her they weren’t ready for kids, and she should have talked to him about it before she went off her birth control pills. Which she didn’t.
Emma was so excited about everyone having babies or getting pregnant, so she stopped taking them—without his knowledge. This wasn’t the first time Emma did something without thinking clearly—she had a tattoo on the back of her neck that would make most men blush.
As the race neared the end, so did our conversations. There really wasn’t much advice I could offer Emma besides being there for her if she needed to talk. Nancy was too focused on the fact that there would once again be another baby for her to love... and knit for.
When the caution waved, Jameson came on the radio. “Whew... it’s incredible how fast this thing is now.”
“I take it that means no changes?” Kyle laughed.
“You touch anything besides my tires and I’ll kick your ass, Kyle,” Jameson teased.
“I’d like to see that,” Aiden added.
“How many tires did Paul take?” Jameson asked once they were back on the track. Paul must have only taken two because he beat Jameson out of the pits to land himself in first place.
“Two.”
“Fuck!”
“We can still catch him.”
“Glad you’re so positive,” Jameson let out a chuckle, the radio cracked.
“You should try it sometime.”
“Nah... I like being real.”
Around lap two-fifty Paul did the same move he pulled earlier to pass Jameson for second again.
“Did he just...” You could hear Jameson groan over the radio. “Man … that sucks.”
“Yep.”
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I,” Kyle replied.
It seemed as though Jameson had some competition this year between Bobby, Tate, and now Paul.
“Jesus Christ,” Jameson yelled. “It feels like I’m doing twenty-five miles an hour compared to him.”
Near the end of the race, Colin Shuman had made his way back up to the front and was battling with Tate and Jameson for second and third. There was no way anyone was going to catch Paul now, he had a two-second lead on Jameson with just eight laps to go.
Colin nudged Jameson from behind causing him to fishtail going into turn four. Jameson corrected it and kept the spot, but that didn’t stop my hothead from reacting.
“I think he did it on purpose!” he yelled.
“No, he didn’t do it on purpose.” Colin pushed against him again, Kyle laughed. “Okay, maybe he did.”
NASCAR waved the furled black flag at the two of them and Colin backed off, leaving Jameson to finish second.
I kept thinking that this new rivalry might turn into what it did with Darrin, but I also knew that was racing. With Darrin Torres, it was more than just a rivalry between them. It was an obsession to constantly outsmart the other. In the end, I could only guess Darrin got what he deserved.
There would always be someone trying to prove themselves and someone getting in Jameson’s face. Like it or not, it came with racing. The difference needed to come from Jameson. He needed to walk away at times, but he also couldn’t let other drivers walk all over him. He needed balance and maybe therapy. It was becoming evident there would be no way around not seeking out anger management for him.
After the race and Contender’s Conference, we were having dinner in the hotel restaurant when a woman approached us.
She looked familiar, but a lot of people looked familiar when fans constantly surrounded you.
I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted right now was another pit lizard asking me to sign her tits.
“Jameson?” she asked as though she knew me.
All of us turned to look over at her. She was tall with brown hair and green eyes. She looked similar to Sway, and then it dawned on me who she was.
Fuck!
Nervously, I leaned closer to Sway, offering her my hand. I was also silently letting this woman know I was with someone.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked brusquely, praying she took that as a clue to leave.
No such luck.
“It’s me... Lauren,” she said with a smile.
This couldn’t be happening.
I felt Sway’s hand tense inside of my own and adjusted her hold on Axel. I didn’t say anything but looked between Sway and Lauren.
“Remember... we ...” Her voice faded, and before I could say any more, Sway held up her hand.
“Hello, I’m Jameson’s wife, Sway Riley.”
Lauren stammered for a moment before finally saying, “Oh... I’m Lauren Thomas.” She glanced at me. “Sorry I... didn’t know he was married.”
“No worries,” Sway said politely. “We just got married. He wasn’t married at the time, I’m sure.”
They chatted for a moment, and I sat there dumbfounded that this was even happening.
When she disappeared, Aiden and Spencer broke into a fit of laughter. “That was awesome!”
I reached for Sway’s hand again. “Can we please go home now?”
“Are you kidding me?” she teased, rolling her eyes. “This is just getting entertaining.”
Spencer punched my shoulder. “Nice going, stud,” he replied sarcastically. “That had to have been awkward.”
If only he knew that I was now in possession of a taser.
I knew this would happen at some point, and I was fairly certain it would happen again. I had no clue who those women were who I slept with when Sway left to finish college, nor did I have any clue how many there were. I threw out a number to Sway before, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t anywhere close to that number.
Looking back to that time in my life, it was hard to imagine my life would turn out like this just three years later.
The turning point for me was when Sway came out to Daytona. After that, I realized my feelings were deeper for this woman besides just being friends. I also knew that being friends with benefits would change the entire dynamic of our relationship, and I was glad it did. It made me realize that a friend with benefits wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted more. I wanted what I had now.
It was funny how what you thought you didn’t need was exactly what you needed all along.
I turned to Sway once we were leaving the restaurant to head home.
“I’m sorry about that.”
She smiled and handed Axel to me.
“Don’t be... it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“I know... I just... didn’t want you to see it.”
“Like I said, Jameson... it’s not your fault... well, it is, but still, you had no way of knowing she’d find you.”
I drew her against my side, adjusting my hold on Axel as well. He looked up at me and smiled. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you two.”
Sway’s arm wrapped around my waist and squeezed. “Yes, you are.”