Roll Cage – This is the steel tubing inside the race car’s interior. It’s designed to protect the driver from impacts or rollovers.
It seemed as though the season was flying by.
We left Las Vegas, flew to Atlanta, then Darlington, Bristol, Texas... new track each week. Before we knew it, the Coca-Cola 600 rolled around.
That morning Jameson had a meet-and-greet scheduled in the media center. I went with him while Nancy looked after Axel in the motor coach.
Jameson was always good at maintaining crowd control and recognizing when it was getting out of hand. That morning it got out of hand.
Jameson, who rarely looked up during meet-and-greets, watched a group of guys carefully as they pushed forward through the crowd to get closer to the table.
“Hey,” Jameson finally said with a sharp warning. “Stop that.”
The group of boys who were probably college kids seemed caught off guard by his tone and stopped to stare at him.
That’s when they decided to argue that they had waited all day for an autograph and the last time they waited, Jameson declined the autograph.
“Well, when did you ask me?” Jameson asked them.
One of the men, the closest to the table spoke first. “We were in Bristol last March with garage passes, and you wouldn’t sign anything for us.”
Jameson laughed softly, his left hand with the sharpie in it rose to sweep over his eyebrow before he looked up at them. He pushed a signed poster to his right for the woman beside them. Jameson winked at her when she softly thanked him before he looked back down at the posters being handed to him from different directions.
“Well, there you go,” Jameson spoke quietly, but it strangely sounded more of a warning that way. “I was working.”
The man to his right started in again, and Jameson focused on him, finally granting eye contact. “I’m not going anywhere. I will sign whatever you want, but you’re hurting people when you push forward like that.”
“We are not,” one had the nerve to reply with as they, once again, shuffled forward.
Van appeared beside me when he noticed the commotion at the table.
That was when Jameson pointed at the guys with a little more warning. “Listen, there are kids and women surrounding ya’ll, and you’re crushing them against this table when you push. Pay attention.” Jameson then shook his head in annoyance and signed their posters.
“What a jerk,” one of them mumbled as they walked away.
Was he being a jerk?
No. He was looking out for the people who waited patiently for him, not the ones who thought he owed them something. Those kids gave Jameson shit, and normally it would have rolled right off him as though it didn’t mean anything.
But it did.
The rest of the meet-and-greet I could tell it bothered him. Regardless of the fact that Jameson was considered a professional athlete, it didn’t mean he owed them anything. They thought so.
Now that he was a father, he cared more about the image he was creating for his son. He didn’t want to be known as an asshole.
We snuck back to the motor coach after that for some lunch; Jameson remained quiet, carrying his jug of water when he stopped at the door to his motor coach.
Looking down, I saw the addition Emma had added. There, right before the steps, was a doormat that said: Beware! Asshole inside.
He smirked despite the edge of annoyance. “Emma...”
“Ah, yes.” I gave my own smile and laugh. “She has a way about her, doesn’t she?”
“Hmm... yes.” He turned and offered me a smile. “She does.”
Opening the door, he stepped inside where Cal had made lunch for us and Axel was waiting for his mommy to feed him.
Jameson smiled when he looked at the new hat designs Simplex had sent over. They looked pretty cool, and seeing the word “Champion” sprawled across them was satisfying, knowing how hard it was to earn that title.”
It wasn’t long before Alley came inside and motioned to Jameson that it was time to get the pre-race activities going so that was where we headed—after Jameson pulled one over on Emma and again replaced her lotion with self-tanner. It was stupid that we found so much humor in something we’d done a dozen times.
Being the race that marked the one-year start of our friends with benefits days, the thoughts swirled of our time together back then.
The tingling feeling in my gut I had that night and the way he whispered “stay” and then finally, coming together intimately for the first time.
Smiling, Jameson approached me as I stood with Axel on the grid, who was slobbering all over me like a Boxer puppy. I couldn’t understand where all the salivia was coming from.
“It’s different seeing you in this light,” he said softly only to me, watching Axel. “I like it.”
“Yeah, well all this heat is causing me to sweat like crazy. I feel like I’m wearing a water bra.”
“Water bra?” His eyebrow rose.
“I think I have a pool of water in each cup from all this sweat.”
Jameson grinned wider. “That’s attractive.”
“Hey.” I shifted, handing Axel to him all the while airing myself out. That kid produced a lot of heat. “I aim to please.”
“That you do, honey.” Axel bounced in his arms when the race day activities kicked up. A thriving country band, surrounded by screaming fans, played their new single on the stage located in the infield grass. It reminded me of a time when Jameson and I would sit in the infield at the local dirt tracks surrounded by country music, old trucks, and tailgates down sitting on coolers full of beer.
Jameson’s arms snuck around my waist swaying to the music as he held our son.
“I wasn’t referring to the heat either.”
Leaning back against his chest, I whispered, “I know.”
I knew he was referring to our time spent in this exact location a year ago. Me feeling like I was about to burst with anxiety, and him, though I didn’t know at the time, experiencing that gnawing dread of wanting something you thought was completely out of reach.
But here we were, a year later, after overcoming tragedy, together.
THERE WASN’T A single breeze that day. The heat scorched high in the sky over the Lowe’s Motor Speedway grid of forty-three cars waiting for the race to begin.
Though I thought for sure they were lying, the thermometer said it was one hundred and four. It had to be at least two hundred degrees. I was sure of it.
Jameson, to prepare for the heat today, had been carrying around a gallon of water and was well on his way through his second gallon.
“I know in about an hour…” He shook the half empty gallon jug, “… I’m gonna have to pee.”
“And then what?” I asked, laughing at the thought of him asking to stop the race for a bathroom break.
“I just hold it.” He looked down to sign an autograph from a pint-sized fan who approached.
“What if you can’t?”
“You just go.”
I had a feeling this happened before. He’d been awfully quick to change his uniform after the Texas race.
“So you—”
“Stop talking about it.” He said, slightly annoyed, but smiling at me.
On days like this when the temperature outside broke a hundred, the heat inside the cars peaked one forty. A driver’s biggest concern was the heat. With the safety equipment they wore, gloves, and a complete racing suit, they felt the heat.
The exhaust systems ran underneath the driver’s feet, and the heat from the engine and transmission was intense.
With all that heat, they sweat. And when they sweat, it didn’t pool in their bra. Their suits absorbed it usually, but it led to dehydration eventually. It was not uncommon for a driver to lose about five pounds during a race just from water weight.
The problem was that dehydration led to more blood flow throughout your body trying to cool you off with less reaching your vital organs. In turn, you dealt with impaired concentration, decreased energy, and fatigue. That was not exactly ideal when inside a car pushing two hundred miles per hour, surrounded by concrete walls.
Jameson had a good ritual on days like this. He’d watch the weather closely, prepared by drinking lots of water and eliminating soda and alcohol—two things that could dehydrate you quickly.
Back in the days when he raced sprint cars on dirt, he’d pack his racing suit with ice packs just prior to the feature events, but now they had cooling systems in their helmets that circulated air and also wore a “cool” shirt. These shirts had about fifty feet of tubing inside of them that had the ability to keep you cool by flipping a temperature switch. They also had something similar built into their seat, and an auxiliary switch on their dash controlled it.
Kyle caught me when Jameson was with the media and asked my thoughts on how Jameson would handle the heat today.
“Are you worried?” I asked. Kyle never showed emotions on race day. He kept his thoughts and remarks focused on the race and winning.
“No, but I want to be sure he’s gonna be okay.” He fiddled with his headset, adjusting the volume as I’m sure Mason was asking him questions. They used headsets even when Jameson wasn’t on the track. It was easier to communicate that way when the team was spread out around the track. “It’s hot.”
“You’re telling me,” I laughed, fanning my face with my hand. “I think my bra has a gallon of sweat in it.”
Kyle looked around to see who heard me and then chuckled, returning his headset to his ears. “Always a pleasure conversing with you, Sway.”
Before Jameson got in the car that afternoon and prepared for six hundred miles, I handed Axel over to Nancy who took him inside the air-conditioned towers. It was too hot for him. Hell, it was too hot for me.
We said our goodbyes, I wished him good luck, and then I headed up to the tower with Emma.
On the way up to the private suites, I ran into Paul Leighty’s girlfriend, Elaina. She was new this year and had some things to learn about tact. She flat out asked me if Jameson had signed a pre-nup.
Who asked that?
Up until that moment, the thought of a pre-nup had never even crossed my mind. Jameson never mentioned it. No one in our families ever mentioned it, so why did this girl I’d only met five minutes ago bring it up?
That got me thinking the majority of the race about pre-nups and if Jameson had wanted one. It was a little late now, but he was worth a lot of money these days and had cars, houses, all kinds of stuff I would consider his, but if something happened, I had to mentally stop myself there. I couldn’t focus on the race and pre-nups so I instead focused on the race.
“Your fuel window is sixty laps, bud,” Kyle told him once he was making the pace laps prior to the start.
“Ten-four,” Jameson said and then asked, “I need a couple Gatorades at each stop.”
“Will do. Just make sure you try to keep cool and keep drinking fluids.”
Being NASCAR’s longest night, none of the drivers were thrilled with the heat today. I was worried about him and by lap three hundred, when the sun had finally set, the temperature hadn’t dropped, and my fears of him getting dehydrated were starting to grow.
“How do these auxiliary switches work?” Jameson asked. His voice was completely drained.
“If you turn on the one for your seat, you’ll have to turn the one for your helmet up.”
“Oh,” he began to fade in the field, creating a distance between him and Paul Leighty in turn four. “No wonder.”
“How are your temps doing?”
It took another lap before he replied to Kyle’s question.
“Me? Or the car?”
“Both, I guess.” Kyle let out a nervous chuckle that was rare for him. “You hangin’ in there, bud?”
He was silent for another lap as he battled with a lap car to stay in his twelfth place running order, and my heart leapt into my throat.
“Yeah, just tired.” He let out a whoosh of air and continued with a dull voice. “When I get close to other cars, my temps shoot up.”
It didn’t help that he was running mid-pack after a pit altercation when Spencer dropped the jack too soon.
On the final stop, water was spewing from the radiator vent on the right side of the hood and got Spencer and Gentry in the face. Whenever the temps in the car went up, the vent on the right side of the car near the windshield spewed hot water.
It seemed every stop, and there were many from the tires shredding about every twenty laps, something went wrong. The guys were dropping air tools, tires were getting away, and Jameson kept getting in the pit at the wrong angle. He had the pit in between Colin and Paul, and every time, Colin got into his pit sideways so that meant Jameson got into his at the wrong angle.
“Damn it, we need to get this together!” Jameson shouted after the last stop. “I need another Gatorade. My feet are burning through the heat shields. Oh, and not the grape one. That was gross.”
I laughed beside Nancy who was holding Axel up near the window to see the cars pass by. His wide green eyes fixated on the track below.
Jameson didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but he was, in fact, feeling the heat. That was his way of letting us know without complaining.
“How many more laps?” I asked, mostly to myself, worried about Jameson.
Nancy looked over her shoulder at me shifting Axel to her hip. He latched on to her necklace with his hands and then quickly turned to sucking on it. “I think there’s about a hundred.”
Those hundred laps were way longer than I, or Jameson, would have liked.
At one point Kyle and Jimi contemplated taking Jameson out of the car and putting in a back-up driver from the Nationwide series.
He managed to hang onto a ninth-place finish, but as soon as he was out of the car and walking away, he collapsed.
Right on the ground.
The media—who were huddled around—caught wind of the situation and started in about the drivers doing too much each week and the possible heat exhaustion results.
There was no way you were going to tell Jameson Riley he was doing too much. Yes, he was doing too much between racing sprint cars, the Cup series, running a track, and a three-man sprint car team, but like I said, you couldn’t tell him that. He was doing what he loved.
Jameson was forced by the track officials to visit the infield care center along with a handful of other drivers, but his thoughts were once again focused on the race and what he could have done for a better finish, despite his lethargic demeanor.
“Man.” He wiped a cold rag across his forehead and over the back of his neck. His matted sweaty hair stood in odd directions. His face, flushed from the hours of exertion portrayed his thoughts clearly to those who knew him well. “I must have slid through that pit box five times onto the air hose.” He looked at Spencer who sat beside him being treated for the burns to his hands and forearms when the overspray from the radiator had scorched him. “Sorry, guys. It just wasn’t my night.”
They understood, though. Everyone had bad nights. Just look at last year when this very same race was almost lost because of his pit crew.
Later that night when we got to the hotel, the same one we stayed at a year ago, I watched him sleep wondering how I got so lucky to have him.
I couldn’t say everything in our lives was easy, but I could say that we worked well through it.
Sometime in the night, Jameson’s fingers slid around my neck and then into my hair to cradle the back of my head. I could feel his breath on my face and then his nose at my temple. We exhaled together, and then he moved to rest his forehead against mine.
His body trembled from exhaustion as he smiled. “I can’t believe it’s been a year.”
“Me either,” I smiled, knowing despite the complications from the race, he remembered the night and what tonight meant.
That’s when the pre-nup ideas came back to me and I voiced my concern.
“Should we have signed a pre-nup?”
I was immediately turned in his arms to face him. “No.”
It was a prompt answer. One that you knew he didn’t have to think about. He even glared. As if he was offended by me asking.
“But what about, I don’t know, all the money you had and all your shit. Wouldn’t you want your shit protected?”
“What is all this about?” he finally asked, sitting up on his elbow to look down at me.
“Paul’s girlfriend asked me if we signed one. I just thought, maybe with the whole Darrin thing, and being pregnant, you may have forgotten about one.”
His eyes scowled even in the poorly lit room.
“No, I didn’t forget. Phillip asked and I said no. If you were to ever leave me, you might as well take everything I have. To me, I would have nothing left if you were gone. Besides that,” he continued, “it’s not like you were in it for the money. I knew that.” He laughed, leaning back on the bed beside me. His hand moved over the sheets to find mine. “You were in it for the sex.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m in it for the sex.”
The topic of the pre-nup was never brought up again. He said his part on it, and I never questioned his intentions. He knew what he wanted.
I’D TAKEN A vow to myself that I’d never hide anything from Axel or Jameson.
If something was wrong, I would tell them.
I understood why people put things off. Fear of the unknown. To me, as I’d said many times, not knowing was worse than the fear of keeping the secret.
What if I hadn’t stayed that night in Charlotte with Jameson?
We wouldn’t have experienced some of the best times of our lives. In those three weeks I learned more about myself and him than the previous eleven years. I also got knocked up, but I learned a lot.
If I wouldn’t have listened to myself that night in Charlotte I wouldn’t be looking down on the most beautiful little boy.
Currently stealing flowers from gravesites, he was beautiful and had brought so much joy to our lives. Being a mother to a child where your husband was constantly on the road was difficult at times, but I wouldn’t change anything. Well, maybe some of the late night crying sessions or the teething. Those weren’t fun.
It had been four months since Charlie passed away, and we were now having our memorial race weekend for him, on what would have been his forty-third birthday.
In those four months, life had changed as it always did with time.
We moved back to Mooresville because of Dana and Cooper.
It never failed. When I was home alone they’d come over, so I made the executive decision to move back to Mooresville.
Along with a pair of restraining orders, it was the best thing for everyone.
By the way, Spencer paid the price for this Dana and Cooper “let in” incident and spent two days in the hospital because Jameson tased him. This wouldn’t have ordinarily landed someone in the hospital, but Jameson did it at the worst possible time he could. Spencer was driving.
The conversation between Nancy and Jameson was the most entertaining when he had to tell them who tased Spencer.
“What do you mean you tased your brother?” Nancy gasped. “Jameson, that doesn’t sound like a very nice thing to do.”
Jameson replied, “It wasn’t a nice thing to do, but he let Dana in my house while we were on our honeymoon. That wasn’t very nice.”
She turned to Spencer and his broken arm.
“Spencer,” she scolded. “That woman is crazy! Why would you do something like that?”
That went on for an hour, and in the end, Nancy was upset with Spencer and took Jameson’s side in the whole situation. No surprise there—Jameson was her baby and could do little wrong in her eyes.
Oh, and Jimi took that taser away after the incident.
Andrea had taken over my position at the track, and Jameson hired a whole array of staff to fill in the voids from us not being there. I flew home every few weeks to make sure everything was running smoothly, but other than that, Axel and I traveled with Jameson, in our home away from home—the motor coach.
This worked well, but if I was being honest with you, raising a kid on the road was not easy. Raising a kid, in general, wasn’t easy. There were times Jameson and I got stressed out and took our parenting frustrations out on each other, but looking at our families, we understood that was completely normal. Hell, Alley and Spencer once stopped talking for a week over grounding Lane for sticking toothpaste up his nose.
Alley, the amazing super woman that she was, had just given birth to Alexis Nicole Riley a few weeks back when we were in Daytona. Days after her birth, she was back to working. I couldn’t understand how quickly she recovered from childbirth. I still felt out of shape after having Axel. Or maybe that was the ten pounds I still carried around with me.
With everyone starting families, Spencer and Alley decided to have a house built near ours in Mooresville and across the street for Aiden and Emma. Their fifteen hundred square foot apartment in Charlotte was apparently not big enough any longer.
Having the entire family living within walking distance to one another was like living with the cast from Jackass. The boys were always thinking of stupid shit to do and usually one of them ended up in the hospital or with a concussion.
In the last four months, Jameson had three concussions, six stitches above his left eyebrow, two broken fingers and three broken ribs. And those injuries were just at home, not racing.
Aiden and Spencer’s injuries were often worse because Jameson had a flair for talking them into the dangerous shit. He’d rattle off some ridiculous dare, and every single time they took the challenge.
After the third concussion, Simplex, concerned their driver was crazy, forced him to sign a contract that prevented him from engaging in reckless or unsafe behavior that would stop him from living up to his end of his five-year contract with them.
He may have signed the agreement but I think Simplex knew damn well he didn’t stop riding his dirt bike or racing sprint cars. Two things he’d rather die over than give up. Asking a guy like Jameson to give up sprint car racing was like asking him to give up sex.
That was clearly not an option.
Emma and Aiden were busy getting everything ready for their little ones that were due in November. The shocking revelation really came when they found out they were having twins. Aiden was not at all excited about this but eventually came to terms with it.
Emma was wrong to have decided a major life decision without him but they worked everything out after a few weeks and listening to Jimi’s words of wisdom.
His exact words after a very public fight at a restaurant outside of Atlanta were, “Listen, you two... I’m tired of this shit. Act like fucking adults! So you fuck up and get married in Vegas, did you really expect either of you to make responsible decisions when it came to becoming parents?” Neither of them said anything so he continued, “That’s what I thought.”
I was almost positive Emma learned her lesson when she found out she was having twins, and Aiden’s response was, “See... that’s what you get.”
Emma had always wanted children, but she also never thought the decision through. She had no idea the impact those tiny humans were about to have on their lives.
When you thought about it, you would assume the driver of the car had the most grueling schedule, but that was not the case.
Take Aiden for example. Monday through Wednesday, Aiden was usually free, until Thursday when he was required to be at the track, spotting for Jameson during practices, qualifying, and the race. He’d stay there with him until Sunday. Monday the process started all over again at a different track, different city. Aiden also spotted for Jameson during any Busch or Truck race, too, and this year, he was scheduled to run thirteen Busch races and seven in the Truck series.
Emma was less constricted because most of her work revolved around Jameson’s fan club and charity events she scheduled for him. So now, you add twin boys into that picture, and that wouldn’t exactly result in much family time.
Spencer’s schedule was similar to Aiden’s, but Alley... poor Alley went everywhere Jameson went. Being his publicist, she had her work cut out for her. Now that she had two little ones, it wasn’t unusual to see Alley running around with Lane attached to her back and Lexi snuggled into a Baby Bjorn.
Van made the move to Mooresville with us, though I could tell he was torn by the decision. Every time I flew home to Elma, he came with me. I think over time he’d formed a bond with the Lucifer twins. Van was the only one who could stand to be around the little shits without wanting to kill them.
After Charlie passed away, Logan and Lucas got into a shit load of trouble in school. They were becoming almost unbearable for Andrea. I had no idea how Andrea made it through the day with them without medicating them or herself. I would have shipped their asses off to boarding school a long time ago. You’d think turning seven would have at least matured them slightly. Not a chance.
Jameson’s season was going great. He was leading the points with Tate and Paul close behind. He’d won three of the last six races and had jumped to a 230-point lead over Tate last week in Charlotte. The tension between him and Colin Shuman was still there, but Jameson had learned a valuable lesson—knowing when to walk away.
I should probably rephrase that: he walked away most of the time. In Richmond, after a late race wreck when Jameson blew a tire and collected both him and Colin, he threw his helmet at Jameson and ended up hitting me in the back. Jameson did not walk away from that and spent a good amount of time defending his actions to the media and to Simplex who weren’t pleased.
Racing in the elite levels of NASCAR, there was no way for him to escape the taunting and retaliation on the track altogether, but he needed to learn to say when, and he had for the most part. He still had his temper tantrums and was still the same hothead who overreacted to the inconsequential things in life, but he was maturing. He could almost be classified as an eight-year-old in maturity.
You could say, looking back on the last few months, our lives had changed considerably, that was for sure.
One thing remained the same: we were still Mama Wizard and Dirty Heathen as we’d always been. Some said having a kid changed your sex life. It didn’t for us. We made use of any alone time we had.
“Dadadadada,” Axel babbled away, crawling around me in the grass and the wild flowers that bordered Charlie and Rachel’s graves. I chose to have Charlie buried next to Rachel in our hometown of Aberdeen. I thought that was fitting since they had spent the majority of their lives together in that small Grays Harbor town.
And when I thought about it some more, I would have wanted that for Jameson and me. This way they would be together forever in my mind.
I struggled with losing Charlie—some days were good, some weren’t. It was easier being in Mooresville and being around racing again, but still, it was something where I just had to remember what was important and that was being a mother to my son and a wife to my husband.
I intended on being the best damn Mama Wizard I could be.
I gently traced my fingertips over my mother’s headstone, reading the script aloud. “Rachel Marie Reins, loving wife and mother.”
A few tears fell as I remembered my times with my mom, wondering how different my life may have turned out had she not died. Deciding this would just upset me more than anything, I looked over at Axel as he chewed his second piece of grass.
“Are you ready to go my little goat?” I asked and picked him up. “And you really should start saying Mama. I’m clearly a better choice. I mean look at everything I offer you... you wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t for the foodbags!”
Axel grinned at me. It was bizarre to see how much he resembled Jameson at such a young age, but also reassuring. Whenever I missed Jameson, all I had to do was look into Axel’s green eyes, and I saw him. The personalities were so similar. He had one hell of a temper, but other than the temper, he was one of the happiest babies I’d ever seen. Just so long as you didn’t piss him off, and for God’s sake, don’t interrupt his feeding time.
Jameson made this mistake once when we were stuck in a rainstorm outside of Bloomington. Needless to say, he never asked me to stop breastfeeding him once I started again.
I sat there at my parent’s gravesites for another few minutes telling them everything that happened in the last few months before loading Axel back in the car.
Tonight was the memorial race we’d put together for Charlie so everyone was flying in to attend. We had planned it around the bye week in NASCAR, the Outlaw races, and the USAC schedules.
Only problem was that my dirty heathen was in Grand Forks, North Dakota, with Justin and Tyler at an appearance for their new sponsor on the additional car that he added this year. Not that he needed to add another car to his team, but knowing Jameson, I wasn’t surprised he added another one.
So there we were texting all morning, but he had yet to give me a final answer on whether or not he was actually coming.
When I got inside the car and my little goat was buckled in safely, I sent him another text while Van drove to the track.
It was now noon, and we only had six hours until racing started. I needed Jameson for two reasons: one, he pulled the biggest crowd in and we advertised that he’d be there. And two, we hadn’t seen each other in close to two weeks and I missed him.
Please tell me you’re coming!
It took him about ten minutes to respond, and by the time he did, we were at the track, unloading the t-shirts into the merchandise tents.
Coming, huh, that can be arranged.
I smiled. Can we please have a conversation when you’re not acting like a twelve-year-old?
Not likely.
Are you or are you not?
Huh?
Will you be here tonight?
I had to avoid the word coming. It was sad that I couldn’t use that word with my twenty-four-year-old husband, but it was true.
Axel started squirming in my arms and babbling about daddy again. Trying to hold a wiggly six-month-old and text at the same time was challenging.
I don’t know if I can make it. I’m still in Grand Forks. Sorry.
Damn you, Jameson! These fans are expecting you. What do you want me to do now?
At that point, I was beyond irritated that he led me to believe he’d make it and now he suddenly couldn’t. Axel was wiggling so much that I almost dropped him and the boxes I was holding.
“Okay, just stop squirming,” I told Axel and set him down on the grass near the ticket booth, knowing he’d just crawl around and pick flowers, which I didn’t mind.
Look up.
What? I don’t have time for this shit, Jameson.
Look up, honey.
I did and was met with my dirty heathen, smirking, holding a smiling Axel in his arms. I didn’t waste any time before I ran to him … dropped everything and ran to him.
His rich, intoxicating scent overwhelmed my senses, leaving me just as breathless as it always did. He smelled like methanol from the sprint cars, and I wanted to rip all his clothes off with my teeth.
Nancy approached us from behind.
“Ohhh... let me see my grandbaby!” she squealed, as did Axel. He loved Grandma Me-Me. That’s what she called herself.
Nancy had been traveling with everyone so she could help take care of Lexi while Alley put out fires Jameson started on and off the track.
“You two go reunite.” She giggled to herself. “I got Axel.” She shooed us away toward Jameson’s office with her hands.
We were just making our way up the wooden steps when Mark was, unfortunately, also looking for Jameson, along with a group of fans who had gathered when they realized he was here.
Racing wouldn’t start for a while, but the gates had just opened, which meant Jameson wouldn’t be able to just wander around.
“Hey, Jameson, I’m glad you’re here already.” Mark nudged his shoulder. His JAR Racing hat shadowed his eyes, and I smiled that he was promoting Jameson’s sprint car team. “Listen, Phil wants to know if you’ll be racing tonight? He needs to figure out how many heat races we are going to run.”
“It’s all right.” I could tell he was torn between being with me and his duties as the owner so I made the decision for him. “There will be time later.”
Before I could make it a foot away, his tight grasp restrained me.
“Stay in my office. I’ll be up in a minute,” he whispered in my ear and kissed along my neck before breaking into a smirk. “I missed you.”
I giggled, feeling the tickle of his two-week scruff that I absolutely loved. “Show me then.”
“Where’s Sway?” I asked Spencer and Aiden who were sitting in the announcer’s booth going over Justin and Tyler’s lap times. “Did she come in here?”
“Look, Justin smoked you on the last lap. Looks like someone may need to stick to cup cars,” Spencer snickered. “She’s in your office.”
He then shoved the remainder of his hotdog in his mouth.
“I hope you choke,” I told him and strode past them toward my office. If only I had my taser back.
Once inside, I was thankful I was the one who opened the door and not someone else.
There, my wife was spread out on my desk with absolutely nothing on but a pair of black leather boots that went up to her knees.
“Holy fuck!” I gasped, locking the door. “What if it wasn’t me who opened the door?”
“Well, that would have been awkward,” she giggled and then a slow, wicked smile spread over her full lips. “Now get over here, champ.”
I was across the room before she finished her sentence. My fingers danced across the soft skin of her upper thighs, memorizing the feel of the skin I missed so much. My body knew hers in every way, and it didn’t take long before I had discarded my clothes and pressed against her warm delicate body.
“Oh, God, Sway... I missed you soooo much,” I moaned when I entered her. I growled in her ear eliciting a shiver of pleasure from her.
“I need some proper bearing alignment,” she whimpered and arched her back, pressing her chest into mine. I latched on to her nipples but she quickly pushed me away. We’d been over this before. I had an obsession with them lately, but not the milk that still filled them. The one time that happened was not enjoyable, but I kept forgetting she was still breastfeeding.
Sway threw her head back against my desk, revealing her neck for me. Her legs wrapped around my waist pulling me inside her, both of us gasping at the intense feeling of finally being together again.
Welding her mouth to mine, kissing me so passionately, I almost felt lightheaded with her sweet tongue caressing my own as I slid further inside her welcoming heat. There were no words, just grunts, groans, moans, and the occasional gasp as we moved against each other.
I moved from her mouth and attacked her neck with nips and bites I knew she loved. Her body began to tremble in my arms as she whimpered once again pulling me even closer. I wasn’t going to last long like this, not with the noises she was making. My hips began moving on their own, desperate to feel.
Reaching between us I found the spot I knew would send her over the edge in seconds. Her ignition switch was engineered for my hands so it only took one flick and she fired right up.
“Jesus, Jameson ...” she sighed, digging her nails into my back, her legs tightened around me.
“How’s your compression ratio?” I grunted, my fists tangling in her hair, tugging imperceptibly.
I knew my girl’s compression ratio. I knew just how much her combustion chamber could take, and I loved her higher thermal efficiency.
It was sad that all this car talk got me going but it did.
“My compression ratio is increasing its power,” she whimpered as her eyes rolled back.
“Good... we wouldn’t want the engine to start knocking from the detonation.”
“No, no... we wouldn’t want detonation.”
Sway literally screamed out her pleasure as her body convulsed around my camshaft, a camshaft that intended to assure this align boring was done properly. No one wants bad bearings or detonation.
“Fuck, Sway,” I gritted between my teeth, all this dirty car talk was sending me into a tumult of need. I kissed her roughly before pulling back to watch her fall apart in my arms.
I moved my hand from her and gripped the edge of the wooden desk, bracing myself. My head fell forward and my eyes clenched tightly shut. I was done for. Panting and moaning her name against the shell of her ear, I was unable to hold back any longer.
I fell against her, exhausted. We lay there for a moment, slowing our breathing before I pulled back, resting my weight on one arm. Her eyes were closed, from exhaustion or embarrassment I couldn’t be sure, because the cutest blush I’d ever seen was spreading from her cheeks down to her chest.
I traced the features of her face with my fingertips, rubbing my thumb slowly across her full, pouty lips. Leaning down, I kissed her softly before pulling back to look deep into her eyes. Warm emerald met smoldering green.
“You’re amazing,”
“You’re not so bad yourself there, champ,” she reached up, running her hand down my jaw. “I love this.”
“I know you do. I did it for you.” I ran my fingers up the leather of her boots she’d kept on. “And, I like the boots.”
She sighed contently, leaning forward to capture my lips once more. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long... but then when you’re here, it’s like you’ve never left.”
We laid there on my desk for what seemed like ages, and I began to wish I could stay right there the rest of the night when Sway’s body shuddered and stifled giggles bursts from her mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Sway giggled again.
I leaned back and blinked, raising an eyebrow at her, because clearly it was not nothing by the giggles.
“I was just thinking about compression ratios,” she snickered.
I rolled my eyes at her. “Why are you laughing, though?”
“I can’t believe some of the shit that turns us on.”
“Mmm,” I kissed her forehead once. “But that’s why we get along so good.”
“I was thinking...” She let out a little snort-laugh as her body shuddered again from repressing her laughter.
“That’s never a good thing.” I smirked into her hair.
Sway smacked my arm. “I think we should do it in the announcer’s booth sometime. I’ve always wanted to try that.” She giggled again. Why this was funny to her I wasn’t sure.
“Why is that funny, though?” I asked.
“And we can leave the PA system on...” she continued in a quiet voice that I had to strain to hear.
“What are you talking about?” I looked at her in confusion.
“While we’re doing it... we can leave the microphones on... given nobody should be at the track when this occurs ...” Sway’s entire body was shaking at that point with pent-up laughter that she couldn’t finish her sentence.
I shook my head.
“And that…” I took her face between my hands and kissed her, “…is why I married you, you crazy, crazy woman,” I whispered against her lips, remembering the way they conformed to mine. “We should get back out there. My heat race is in a few minutes.” I smiled softly and helped her up.
She acquiesced with a little grunt and pushed herself off the desk, reaching for her jeans. A few more giggles escaped her while she continued to dress.
“You guys oughta install a sound deadener in those walls,” Aiden suggested with slightly flushed cheeks when we stepped into the announcer’s booth.
Spencer threw his head back with laughter. “Your shirt’s on backward, little brother.”
Pulling my shirt over my head, I heard Spencer chuckle again and ask Sway, “Soo... car talk, huh?”
She slapped the back of his head as he took a drink of his beer. “I hope you choke.”
After fixing my shirt and smacking my brother again, Sway and I went our separate ways for the night.
She was helping Andrea and Mallory in the concession stands tonight until the memorial race, and then she’d be in the flag stand to wave the green and checkered flag.
Emma waddled up to me as I headed toward the pits to get in the car for the heat race.
“Jameson,” she waved at me to meet her halfway. “Can you sign these for me? They’re for Bucky’s grandkids.”
“Yeah... sure...” I raised my eyebrows at her appearance. She looked exhausted. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down there, humpty?” She hated the nickname, which in turn, made me very happy.
She snorted, punching my shoulder. “Don’t call me that, asshole.”
Humpty left after that, leaving me in my element, the pits surrounded by dirt and sprint cars.
I inhaled a deep breath, my senses overflowing with the sweet smells of methanol exhaust mingling with the sharper burnt smell of the tire siping irons. I listened to the noises as air tools chattered, generators hummed and grinders rasped as crew members roughed up tires. There was the occasional loud “romp” of the nearby revving sprint cars and the familiar twang of country music from one hauler to the next.
This was my home.
I looked around at the hundreds of cars that gathered here, remembering why they were here. It was essentially Mallory’s idea to do the memorial race for Charlie, and it was also something I’d been thinking about for a while.
We got all the cars around the Northwest to come over. Dad, Justin, Tyler, Tate, Bucky Miers, Shey Evans, and Bobby were also here in support. Even a bunch of my old buddies from racing in the USAC series were here along with Ryder and Cody Bowman.
Originally, I wasn’t going to race, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to race sprint cars when I had the chance.
After the first heat race, I noticed my car wasn’t handling the way I wanted. Tommy and I ran through the different possibilities of setup changes we could make before Dad approached us, his suit pulled down to his waist where he had it tied.
“Change the springs,” my dad leaned into the wing, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’ll make a difference.”
I didn’t respond and stared down at my car.
“Did you hear me?” Dad nudged my shoulder.
“I heard you. I just chose to ignore you,” I muttered and began changing the springs like he told me to.
I hated it when he was right, but being a fifteen-time champion in the World of Outlaws, he knew how to run a sprint car.
I caught up with Sway after the trophy dashes and heat races were finished.
She smiled and handed me a hamburger. “You should eat something.”
“Thanks, honey.” I reached for the cheeseburger in her hand and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.
A group of fans had gathered behind me as I stood there in the doorway to the concession stands eating my hamburger. Sway giggled and motioned for me to turn around, so I did and began signing an abundance of autographs before making my way back to the pits.
“So how is this going to work?” Tate asked, pulling his racing suit over his shoulders. Shrugging, he adjusted the shoulders to fit the way he preferred.
“I’m going to do one lap by myself. Then you guys file in for a 4-wide salute for two laps, but on the front row we are gonna do 3-wide, and then it’s a fifty lap main event. After that, my dad and I will say a few words.”
Tate smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Just for fun... right?”
“Please.” I rolled my eyes, reaching for my helmet on the seat inside my sprint car. “Nothing’s just for fun on a dirt track.”
I heard Justin laugh from behind us with Lily in his arms.
“Don’t believe anything he says Tate,” he glared my direction. “He caught a race with us in Terre Haute and said it was just for fun.”
“It was for fun.”
“Yeah,” Justin rolled his eyes. “That’s why you smoked us. You know,” he said contemplatively. “Did you curse our cars that night? Something like only the car owner can win?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I COULDN’T HELP a few tears during the memorial laps, not when I knew the reaction Sway was having to all this and wanted to comfort her, hold her, and let her know I was there for her.
I also knew that this was where I belonged, though. I belonged in the car, showing my respect out on the track with the other drivers who made all my dreams come true because of Charlie.
If it weren’t for him I would have never become the driver I was today. He allowed me to race out here in the off-seasons and after school. He also gave me the love of my life and pushed us together when we least expected.
On the second lap, I remembered the very last thing he said to me.
“Jameson... I’m counting on you to take care of my little girl. She loves you and that’s the only thing that matters to me. You’ve always been like a son to me... and I’m incredibly proud of the man you’ve become.”
I promised him I’d take care of Sway, and I intended on keeping that pledge, always.
On the backstretch of the second lap, we all started revving our engines, eager to start racing.
You couldn’t see other drivers in the car because of how low you sat in a sprint car, but I could scarcely make out Justin taunting me by revving his engine and edging forward.
I saw Sway perched in the flag stand still, holding the green flag, so when I passed by on the last memorial lap I revved the engine for her, knowing she loved the sound.
My dad, Tate, Justin, and I were on the front row, leading the cars down out of turn three when the fireworks started exploding.
The excitement of being back in the type of cars I loved was pulsating through me. I loved it here.
Once the green flag was dropped, it was racing as usual. Dad and I messed around the entire time, not taking anything too seriously. It had been close to a year since I was last on the track with him. He’d pass me, and then I’d quickly take him on the outside where he usually never went. Justin and Tate got in on the action as well, and by the time there were a few laps left it was clear none of us would be able to catch Justin once he got past Tyler for the lead.
When the race ended, I pulled my car down under the flag stand, as did Dad. We stood there for a moment, smiling as JD, our announcer, made his way down to us.
He handed me the microphone first.
“Jameson... how does it feel being in a sprint car again? Does it bring you back to your roots?”
“Definitely. I never remember how much I miss racing these until I come home.” I laughed. “It’s in my blood, I guess.”
The fans screamed in response, and even from thirty-feet away the sound was deafening.
“Now, was this your idea to have the memorial race for your father-in-law on his birthday?” JD asked.
Sway and Axel had made their way onto the track, and I took Axel from her, wrapping my arms around the two of them.
“No, it wasn’t my idea. Mallory Kelly wanted to have the event for him, which we thought was a great idea. It was Sway’s idea to have the race on his birthday.”
JD pushed the microphone at Sway, but she shook her head, tears toppling over her flushed cheeks.
Axel, who was staring at the sprint car, said, “Dadada,” and then squealed, bouncing in my arms.
Dad laughed at how focused he was on the cars and stood next to JD as he asked him a question.
I leaned down and kissed the top of Sway’s head softly.
“So Jimi, how’s it feel racing with your son again?”
“It feels good,” he told him with a smile. “This race was just for fun. I’d known Charlie since he bought the track some sixteen years ago. He was a very good friend of mine, and I’m glad I was able to come out here and show my support for him and our families who were so deeply touched by him.” His voice broke near the end, and Sway started crying again, reaching for him.
I took the microphone from JD.
“Sway and I just want to thank everyone for coming out and paying their respects to Charlie.” I looked down at Sway wrapped in Dad’s arms as I held onto Axel, who was trying to take the microphone away. “I don’t know how many more races I can make out here, but thanks for supporting the track, we appreciate it.
The crowd roared to life as I waved and climbed on the back of a four-wheeler Justin had brought onto the track.
I tried to make my way back to the pits, but was quickly encircled by hundreds of screaming fans. Handing Axel over to Van for protection, I began signing autographs once again and attempted to get back to my hauler. It wasn’t nearly as bad as being at a NASCAR race, but it was a thick crowd tonight.
I didn’t know if I’d ever understand this whole fame thing, but one thing held true: what you gave up to follow your dreams never changed. It was all about the sacrifices you were willing to make.
I knew what I wanted, though. I wanted my son to have someone he could look up to and someone he wouldn’t be ashamed to say, “Hey... that’s my dad.”
I understood that everything came with a price. But I came to realize that those sacrifices could have some amazing returns.
I was loading the remaining merchandise boxes into the back of my Expedition when a familiar voice came from behind me.
“Hey, Sway... do you have a second?”
My entire body froze as a chill shuddered through me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just came to show my respect for Charlie. That’s all,” Mike told me, holding up his hands in surrender. “I swear that’s all.” His wide eyes conveyed his nervousness. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I whispered, shaking my head. I knew he didn’t mean any harm by the way his eyes darted around the parking lot. He was scared shitless. “If Jameson finds you...” I shook my head not wanting to think of his reaction to this.
“I’m sorry. I had to apologize for everything that happened. I had no idea that’s what Darrin was planning. I swear to you, I didn’t. I’m not that kind of person.”
“I suggest you leave,” a snarled voice warned, a body stepping out from the dark cagey shadows of the parking lot.
I wasn’t entirely surprised to see Van walking up and was thankful it wasn’t Jameson.
Mike held his hands up. “I just came to show my respect for Charlie and tell Sway I’m sorry.”
“Well...” Van’s voice faded as he stepped closer to Mike, cornering him next to the beer garden and my truck. “Don’t. Ever. Come. Back. Again... and I’ll think about not telling Jameson.”
“I’m sorry.” Mike trembled. “I don’t mean any harm.”
“I do, though.” Van ran his hand along his jaw. “You don’t even want to know how much harm I can cause. And, frankly... I’m not the one you should be scared of. It’s Jameson. If he finds out you’re here ...”
Mike didn’t waste another moment talking before he was running away, literally sprinting away.
Van laughed and slung his arm around my shoulders.
“I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?”
“Apparently not. Did you install some sort of GPS on me?” I teased and loaded the last box.
“No, I just know you by now.” I closed the back of the Expedition and Van smiled. “Now come on... your husband is looking for you.”
Before we reached the pit gates, I stopped him. “Van... don’t tell Jameson... please.”
“I won’t, Ms. Sway,” he assured me and motioned to the crowd where Jameson was. “Now get over there. He misses you.”
Jameson still wasn’t over the whole ordeal with Darrin and Mike for good reason. Hell, I still wasn’t over it, and seeing Mike sent me into panic overload, but I couldn’t let that break me.
Mama Wizard couldn’t be broken damn it.
Watching my husband amongst a crowd of screaming fans, all suppliantly idolizing him, I realized how lucky we were. Against all odds, we had made it. And despite the world trying to tear us apart, we glued ourselves back together with Dirty Heathen and Mama Wizard super glue. The edges may have been blurred and distorted, but they were solid.
While I was standing there, Ami approached me holding Lily in her arms. I smiled at her. “I can’t believe how big she’s getting.”
“I know,” Ami laughed. “It feels like I just had her yesterday.”
“Well, it wasn’t that long ago,” I reminded her. Lily was only a month old. “Oh, are you and Justin coming over for the barbeque tomorrow?”
“I think so, then we leave for Knoxville Nationals.”
“Right. It’s that time of year already, huh?”
Ami and I looked over at Justin and Jameson signing autographs for the fans.
“It never changes, does it?” Ami asked softly, kissing Lily’s tiny hands.
I looked down at Axel for a minute and then smiled. “No, it doesn’t. But that’s the life we live. We’re racers’ wives.”
It was around two in the morning before we finally made it back to the house on Summit Lake. Even though we’d officially moved back to Mooresville, we kept the house on the lake for times like this when we didn’t want to fly home right away. We had to leave tomorrow for an appearance in Jacksonville, but it was nice to sleep in my own bed for a night.
As I carried my sleeping son into his bedroom, I understood a lot about my life looking at his innocent face.
I still believed it was better to dream than to not be able to dream at all because who would you be without it?
I knew, for me, that there was no such thing as “say when” because I was always going to want more and most of all, the dreams I thought would never be, were now my reality.
After my first National Quarter Midget Championship, I wanted more. After my first Night Before the 500, I wanted more. After the Hut Hundred, the USAC Triple Crown, Turkey Night, the Chili Bowl... I wanted more. Say when wasn’t an option for me and never would be.
I began to understand that my life was measured in moments. There were moments that tested you, challenged you, and moments that could make you fall to your knees, begging for one more moment, but you see, those moments defined you as a person. You needed to take them as they came because before you knew it, you were out of moments.
Peering down at my sleeping son, I remembered the doubts I had in the beginning. I never thought I was good enough for Sway, and all along she was thinking the same thing.
I remembered a phrase Charlie used to say to us, “It’s not the track you race at. It’s the high line you chose that takes you to the victory.”
We all thought he was crazy toward the end, but that was when he had the most inspirational words of wisdom. More than likely he got them off commercials and cereal boxes, but they were still helpful.
I padded down the hall into our room where Sway was waiting for me. She wasn’t sleeping, but wrapped up in the sheets, waiting.
Removing my clothes, I crawled in bed with her and drew her against my bare chest.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” her eyes glistened, her breath light and steady. “He would have loved tonight.”
“Anything for you, honey,” I murmured against her neck.
“Will you sing for me? I miss the singing.” She rolled over facing me, the moonlight coming into our room reflected off her glowing ivory skin.
I sang softly to her with just the right amount of drawl and timber she loved that wouldn’t make Ray Charles cringe.
These were the moments that I wanted more of. These were the moments that would make me beg for more.