Chicane – A quick succession of sharp, slow turns, usually intended to reduce straightaway speeds.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” I bit the last of my fingernails off. I was sure this was a bad idea … it had to be.
Tommy laughed his loud cackling laugh that never sounded normal on him but I blamed the orange hair. You probably wouldn’t sound normal either if you had hair that bright.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He thinks I’m staying in school?” I looked down at my fingers, picking at the chipped nail polish that I hadn’t chewed off.
“You’re such a fucking weirdo. How many times do I need to explain this college girl?” he smacked my forehead and jerked my chin up. “He. Doesn’t. Know!”
“All right,” I huffed pushing myself from the couch we were sitting on in Starbucks at the SeaTac airport. “He doesn’t... you know, have a girlfriend you’re not telling me about, does he?”
I wanted to punch myself.
Tommy chuckled and picked up our bags. He was flying out to Daytona with me and then he was off to Eldora for the start of the Outlaw season.
“He doesn’t, that I know of... but when has he ever had a girlfriend?” he looked at me like I was stupid.
I felt stupid for even asking.
“Good point. But you never know.”
“He spends all his free time on the phone with you,” he insinuated. “Or racing sprint cars.”
“So?”
“What I mean is how would he have time for a girlfriend? He’s either racing or talking to you. Obviously I’m no judge of character here because I can’t keep a girlfriend more than a few months, but I’m almost certain no woman would tolerate that.”
He had a good point there.
Jameson and I talked every day no matter what time of the night it was. It was almost as though we had an unspoken rule that we had to talk.
The entire flight I was nervous and downright jittery. I hadn’t seen him since last April and I wasn’t sure how to act around him. I knew once I saw him, everything would be back to normal but I was still nervous anticipating what he would think. Did he want me there? He said he did but, then again, maybe he was trying to make me feel better.
So now, there I was surprising him in Daytona. It was Tommy who convinced me to surprise him. I planned on going to Daytona but surprising him seemed like a better option or a dumb one, not sure yet.
As I said, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year and, if I was honest with you, my feelings for him hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was stronger from the separation. My TV in my dorm in Bellingham was kept on the SPEED channel or ESPN just in case I was able to catch a glimpse of him in an interview or just the mention of his name.
Our plane was delayed due to a thunderstorm rolling through Atlanta during take-off, so when we finally touched down in Daytona, the race had already began.
The Budweiser Shootout was not a race you qualified for but, in Jameson’s case, he was the wild card who made it by setting the fastest lap time. The Shootout was an annual Winston Cup series invitation-only event the weekend before the Daytona 500 held on Saturday night. It generally served as the kick-off for the NASCAR portion of Speedweek. The field consisted of drivers from previous race wins who clenched automatic berths, former pole sitters who also clenched automatic berths and a wild card, Jameson.
The event was an opening 25-lap segment, followed by a 50-lap race to the finish after a ten-minute intermission. Similar to the All-Star race held at Charlotte, the race had no championship points for the winner, just a nice purse.
The field was made up of twenty-eight cars as opposed to the usual forty-three starters in a typical Cup race, with the starting line-up determined by a random draw.
To me, the racing itself was similar to what you’d see at the local bullring tracks. With no points on the line, drivers usually went all out and created some of the most exciting racing.
By the time Tommy and I made it to the track, got our hot passes and found our way into the pits to find Alley, the second 50-lap segment was underway. I was so eager to get a glimpse of Jameson’s car on the track I hardly heard anything Alley was telling us. I hadn’t seen him race stock cars in person yet, only on TV.
I was literally in awe at how huge the venue was. You can’t grasp how large it is until you see it in person. Under the lights, you could hear and feel the loud resonant rumble of the cars as they roared down the straightaways, vibrating right through you. The smells… oh, the smells. Rich sharp biting aromas of racing fuel pooled with rubber from the heated tires on the asphalt. Once we stepped out of the car, I inhaled a deep breath, remembering everything I missed about racing and Jameson, the two fused together. Distinguishing between it all, burnt rubber and racing fuel surrounded my senses, I thought of Jameson and always would.
“Calm down,” Alley grumbled as I bounced up and down once we found her.
Pit lane was busy, as to be expected. I knew enough about being at the dirt tracks to know that the pits, or in this case pit lane, was a place of business and when the guys are working on cars, that was their job and they took it seriously. To be competitive in this sport, they have to otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.
Tommy shot a sideways glance at me while looking toward the pit box. I was showing an alarming amount of enthusiasm for this.
Kyle was up on the box, though I hadn’t met him yet, Jameson talked about him often so I felt as though I already knew who he was.
“He’s running fourth right now,” Alley announced staring at her Blackberry. “He placed second in the first segment.” She tucked her phone away and waved goodbye.
Being the Public Relations representative for the team, she was busy, always busy.
I don’t think you could wipe the grin from my face. This was so exciting. I couldn’t see much, being as short as I was so Kyle motioned for me to come on the pit box with him. You couldn’t see much better from there either as the infield was never a good spot to watch a race but it was the most exciting. You get to hear all the commotion between the crewmembers. I believe that being in the infield at the races is the place to be as it gives you the full experience including hearing the strategy calls made by the crew chief and car chief.
Kyle smiled and pulled his headset away from his ear.
“I’m Kyle Wade, Jameson’s crew chief, and this is Mason.” I shook hands with both of them while Kyle pulled the headset back. “Hey, bud,” he began in the microphone attached the headset. “Sw—”
I smacked the back of his head so hard his headset fell off his head. “Don’t tell him, it’s a surprise!”
I don’t think Kyle knew what to do so he scrambled to adjust his headset.
“Sorry, bud, uh... ten laps to go.” He gave me a glance like I was clinically insane but smiled despite this.
I’m not sure what Jameson was saying but Kyle was lying. “Don’t worry, it was nothing. I dropped the headset.”
I shook my head and watched as Jameson’s black number nine car flew past us on the front-stretch. Mason moved around Kyle to sit next to me. I watched as Tommy hung by the pit wall to get a better look at the cars when they came by. At tracks like Daytona, you can only see them on the front-stretch when you’re watching from the grid.
“So, you’re Sway?” Mason asked peeking over his clipboard.
“Yeah, and you’re Mason?”
He nodded. “Jameson talks about you a lot.” He grinned, his smile boyish. “So does Spencer and Emma.”
“What can I say—I’m awesome.”
Mason laughed, as did Kyle.
“He’s freaking out right now,” Kyle said, motioning toward his headset. “You guys might want to watch this.” He gestured with a flick of his wrist at the laptop they had opened to the broadcasting station.
I glanced over at it to see Jameson drafting with Bobby only Jameson was leading.
“Holy shit!” I yelled and practically sat on Kyle’s lap to get a good view of the screen. “He’s leading! He’s fucking leading!”
“That’s what he just said.”
By the looks on their faces, I couldn’t have made my obsession any more obvious.
Way to give yourself away.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I was leading a pack of cars at Daytona International Raceway. In a race. Yeah, it wasn’t the Daytona 500 but it was even better, it was a race with the best of the best, the Budweiser Shootout.
“Is this the last lap?” I asked Kyle when we crossed the start/finish line. “Please let this be the last lap!”
“Yeah.”
Tate and his teammate, Austin Yale, teamed up beside Bobby and me on the inside. They had the preferred line coming out of turn two. “Inside on the line, ten cars got a run... inside at your door... clear.”
Damn. Nearly had it.
Tate took over position but he did something I least expected him to do; he shot over in front of me on the outside instead of teaming up with Austin again. I wasn’t sure what to do so I drafted with him. Bobby stayed right behind me and Austin swung in line behind him creating a four-car line coming to the green.
I had two options. Stay where I was, or try to pass. I knew Bobby would follow but I wasn’t sure my car could pass Tate, he was strong. He did just pass me outside of the draft. There wasn’t enough time to make a move so I stayed where I was, second place.
I grinned when I saw the checkered flag. I ran a race with the legends of stock car racing and placed second.
I’d say that was respectable.
I hated not winning, I don’t know of any racer who didn’t, but when you think about, what experience did I have in race trim on a track like Daytona?
None.
I’d never raced a Cup race before this, and to finish second, I shouldn’t be complaining. I think the part that upset me the most was the fact that I could have won, there wasn’t enough time.
Tate waved when I pulled up next to him, as did I. I’d finish second to a guy like him any day. This just goes back to my feelings about that Triple Crown Championship over Justin, you want to win so badly but you also know that means beating a guy who wants it just as badly.
When I pulled down the grid, still smiling, I removed my helmet while Spencer pulled my window net down. That was when I heard a familiar giggle. My head shot up, my eyes glancing around figuratively; no one else had that giggle.
Sway.
I was almost certain I got out of that car quicker than I would have if it was on fire and had her secured in my arms.
“You lied to me,” I breathed against her neck. “You’re really here, right? Am I dreaming?”
“You’re not dreaming. And I didn’t lie,” she giggled. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth.” She pulled back to look at me. “I was in Atlanta, getting ready to board the plane, when you called.”
I still hadn’t let go of her. Instead, I pulled her against my chest tighter.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for coming, honey.”
“Did you honestly think I’d miss Daytona two years in a row, let alone”—her eyebrow arched—“your first Cup race?”
“No, but... you’re busy these days.”
“I’m never too busy for you,” she assured me kissing my cheek.
Dad was at my car after that so I couldn’t kiss her the way I wanted to. “Good job, kid.” He smiled.
“Thanks.” I pulled Sway closer and tucked her under my arm. I wasn’t about to let go.
She giggled. “You’re wet.”
“I’m sweating,” her eyes focused on mine when I spoke. “It happens.”
She didn’t say anything for a while as she stood there beside me as I did a few post-race interviews. When the last reporter left she reached up and kissed my cheek again.
I could get used to that.
“I’m so proud of you!”
I had other plans and pulled her aside out of the public eye. We walked back to my motor coach; I kicked Spencer and Aiden out and brought Sway inside. After a few beers, I wasn’t thinking, neither was she and before we knew it we were making out on the bed in the back.
She deserved so much better than this and I couldn’t just have sex with her.
What would happen if I did?
All the times we’d been like this with each other, she never stopped me and that scared me. If I instigated it, she went with it. If I pulled away, so did she. After a few minutes, I was ready to ask for more, take more, and, oh, did I want more.
Her body moved against mine in a desperate way pulling me against her. Her soft hands swept over my shoulders and down the contours of my back. I let out a whimper pulling her hard against me. My mouth moved from its place against her neck back to her warm lips, moving frantically. Lust began drowning any rational thoughts I had about this and I was scrambling to gain control.
Her arousal was evident, as was mine but how could I take this from her?
This would change everything. The worst part about it was she was leaving in a few weeks. It wouldn’t be anything more than what I had with other women and I wanted more from Sway. I didn’t want a one-time thing. Did she?
No, she couldn’t want that.
Unconsciously, my hand moved from her breast to the button of my jeans and she moaned arching against me. I froze, that moan made me comprehend what exactly was happening. I couldn’t do this. She deserved better. She wasn’t another pit lizard. This was Sway, my best friend.
I moved my hand from her waist to run through her hair lightly skimming the apple of her cheek. My gentle touch elicited a moan of pleasure from her.
It was hard to pull away. Her legs were wrapped around my waist and her hips moving against mine. I briefly contemplated giving her pleasure but I also knew I wouldn’t stop. It’d been almost a year since I’d been with anyone and I was close already by her hips wiggling against mine. I also knew that seeing her pleasure, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself and she was far too willing.
Miraculously, with some Herculean self-control, I managed to pull away from her.
It took me a moment to calm my need and hormones but I did and finally looked down at her. Sway’s cheeks were flushed—her eyes half closed as she scrambled to sit up. “Sorry,” she mumbled running her hand through her long hair once.
I sighed heavily.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sorry. I always attack you.”
“Well, I’m not any better,” her hand rose to wipe her swollen lips, “you didn’t see me stopping you.”
“True,” I smiled.
We were both silent for a few minutes before I chuckled. No matter how hard I tried, I wanted her. It was undeniable.
“Are you tired?” I asked trying to turn the focus from my desire.
“Yeah,” she yawned.
“Come here,” I motioned for her to come closer. “You can sleep here.”
We did sleep. Surprisingly we only slept. I forgot how nice it felt to have her in my arms and the fact that she came to see me, made it so much better.
I barely had any time with all my sponsorship obligations but in the evenings I was able to hang out with Sway. The trip was so unexpected for her that she didn’t have time to get a hotel room so she stayed in the motor coach with me. I wasn’t complaining.
Tommy ended up sleeping on the couch a few nights before getting a hotel room with the rest of the team. I wasn’t the easiest person to stay with. Luckily, Sway found humor in my OCD tendencies, Tommy did not.
We hung out by the motor coach at night, usually Cal, my motor coach driver, cooked dinner for us. He was awesome. Anything you could dream of wanting to eat was stocked in the motor coach for us. Cal could throw down some wicked meals at the drop of a hat, too. For a group of guys like ours, it was appreciated.
There wasn’t a lot of privacy between the motor coaches, but it also provided a sense of camaraderie between the drivers.
Much like the team haulers, the motor coaches lined up side-by-side each other in the compound (different from the paddock where the haulers are located) which was a secured area for the drivers to stay that you had to show special passes to get in … and you don’t ever forget your pass.
Even if you are a well-known driver and dressed in a racing suit, they will not let you in without that pass. I did this once racing in the Busch series. I was not happy that I was dressed in my uniform and they still wouldn’t let me in just because I forgot my pass. I ended up having Spencer go get my pass. He took his sweet ass time and then when I showed the pass to the official, he made sure he called to the NASCAR hauler to make sure it was legit.
I wasn’t impressed.
The week seemed to fly by, and before I knew it was time for the Duel 125’s that Thursday night.
I did good, placed fourth, which gave me a good start for the 500 on Sunday. Now I needed to prepare myself. This was the biggest race of my career. I knew that, as did everyone else, including the media but they had this habit of reminding me all week; everyone but Sway.
She was there, constantly assuring me I could do this and offering her advice when I asked for it. Bobby and Tate were there, too, offering up any pointers they had and helping me with drafting throughout the practice sessions. Like I said before, drafting was an art.
Unlike pit road, where everything was business only, the garage area was slightly more laid back. You would often see a driver chatting with other drivers or goofing around with one another. With the Riley Racing team, there was a lot of goofing around.
“No, Spencer. That’s the wrong size splitter,” Aiden took the splitter from him and handed him another one.
I had never met Aiden until this week and I already loved the country boy and saw why Emma was so attracted to him. Not that I was attracted to him physically because I wasn’t, I just found him completely fascinating. I never knew someone with his analytical thinking and found myself instigating it as much as Jameson and Spencer did.
The garage was filled with cars, each lined up side-by-side with their respective numbers identified above each bay. Jameson’s team was making some last minute adjustments before the final practice sessions. Harry and Kyle hunched over the hood making notes on their clipboards and checking temperatures. I contemplated leaving. I couldn’t handle Jameson saying the word piston stroking again, once was enough.
Tony checked air pressure readings while Shane and Josh made sure everyone had the tools they needed.
“That’s not the right one,” Jameson handed them the correct splitter and Aiden took it and gave Spencer the other one again. “If you do that again, I’ll punch you in the face.”
“According to the rules, that’s the right one,” Spencer pointed to the splitter on the floor next to the rear tires. “Both of you numb-nuts are wrong.”
Jameson sighed and shook his head.
I kept watching them humorously from the doorway for about three more minutes before Spencer noticed me.
“There you are,” he turned to face me. “Tell this asshole he is wrong.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” I wrapped an arm around Jameson.
“Okay, get your hands off so that we can finish this.” Aiden pulled us apart. “You still need to test this out.”
“Save me,” Jameson mouthed as Aiden pushed him to the other side of the car.
I waved and went back to the motor coach to find Emma.
Daytona was such a large venue that it was easy to get lost, as I did. Inside the race loop there was the garage area that I just came from. The restricted garage area is where all the cars are kept and worked on throughout the race weekend.
Once again, you needed a special pass to walk through that area. NASCAR was big on passes that was for sure. Everywhere you walked someone was asking to see your pass.
I learned quickly there were three types of passes. You needed either a hot pass which took you everywhere; a cold pass that took you to the garage area and pit lane prior to the race; and then there was a one-time walk through pass that allowed you a walk through the garage area prior to the race and then you were kicked out.
This weekend I was sporting a hot pass so I was able to go everywhere. This is how I got lost.
I saw the sign for the garage area sign-in. So, basically, I went in a loop. Then I saw the NASCAR hauler. NASCAR hauled around a big red hauler that acted as the official’s command post as well as sign in for the drivers. This was also the principal’s office as I referred to it. If a driver was ever summoned to the NASCAR hauler to discuss his actions, this is where he went.
I spotted Tommy’s orange hair when I walked past the hauler and sighed in relief. Before I could get to him, a tall raven-haired woman approached me.
“Excuse me, Miss?” she asked with a smile that I was sure I would only ever see on a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.
“Yes,” I replied and kept walking toward Tommy.
“Are you Jameson Riley’s girlfriend or something?” she glanced down at the pass around my neck. “Oh, you have a paper pass.”
“Paper what?” I looked down at the pass blowing with the slight breeze in the air. “And, no, I’m a friend.” My eyes focused on the pass around her neck, it appeared to be a hard plastic pass with the words press across it and her picture.
“Oh, okay,” she said with another smile and then walked away as if nothing happened.
Tommy spotted me and ran up to me. “Hey, I thought I lost you.”
“You did.”
“Who was that?” I glanced behind me and saw her walk inside the media center. “She said I was paper.”
“Paper?”
“Yes, paper.”
Tommy looked more confused than me at what occurred until Emma found us.
“Hey,” Emma smiled. “Jameson is looking for you.”
“What’s paper?” we both asked Emma noticing the pass around her neck was hard plastic like a credit card.
“Oh, some passes are temporary, so they’re paper. They only get you in this weekend. If you have a hard pass, like this one,” she held up her own pass. “It gets you into every race. You don’t have to stand at the credential sign in. You just walk right in after you show them the pass.”
That made sense but why did that woman make a big deal out of it. I was only here for the weekend. Naturally, I wouldn’t need a hard pass.
“Is that some sort of status thing among women?” I asked Emma as we walked back to the compound area.
“I’ve heard it is. Most of the drivers bring girls to the races and give them paper passes for the weekend. Some of the wives and girlfriends around here believe you’re a pit lizard with a paper pass until you get the hard card. They’re expensive so obviously a driver doesn’t give them out to just anyone and the owners are the only people authorized to purchase them.”
“So, she thinks I’m a pit lizard?”
“Pretty much,” Emma replied like this was no big deal. I was less than pleased but when you think about it, I guess I was kind of a pit lizard these days. Sure, I wasn’t trashy like most of them but I didn’t follow Jameson around like he was the mythical idolized creature he was to me.
Pathetic.
Tommy laughed when we entered the motor coach mumbling something about me being a pit lizard. He didn’t get to finish his sentence though. My fist in his stomach ensured that.
I did a little more observing into those so called “Plastic Passes” the women seem preoccupied with and found out there were two different passes as Emma indicated that either the wives or the girlfriends wore. If the woman was a permanent fixture in the driver or team’s life, they got a hard plastic pass that had their name, picture and what team they were with.
I wasn’t sure what that chick wanted when she asked me if I was his girlfriend, but these last few days I was constantly being asked if I was his girlfriend by the other driver’s girlfriends and wives. I gave them all the same answer, “Just friends” when I wanted to say “Touch him and die.”
The whole pass thing was enough but really, did everyone have to constantly ask and then stare at the paper pass around my neck? Talk about a bunch of superficial bitches.
THE NIGHT BEFORE the race, Cal fixed dinner for everyone. Grandpa Casten had showed up, which made life interesting to say the least.
Jameson had been a little fidgety with everyone around, but he did well as long as I held his hand. This didn’t go unnoticed by old Casten either when he elbowed Jameson in the side as we sat outside the motor coach.
“Taken the old dermal tool to the crankcase, huh?” he smiled nudging his shoulder with his elbow.
I choked on my beer, as did Jameson. “Grandpa!”
“Hey, back in my day ...” he paused for a moment and then smiled. “Hell, I don’t remember what I was going to say.”
“I think that’s enough whiskey for one night there, dad,” Jimi suggested removing the flask from his hand.
Casten grumbled for a moment but I think he knew he’d had enough. He was starting to fall asleep.
“What a de... mal?” Lane asked looking up at Jameson who was holding him.
Jameson snickered. Alley slapped the back of Grandpa’s head and Spencer choked on his beer. Little Lane was almost three now and asked lots of questions. Last night, he asked Jameson why he was an asshole. Jameson had no response I might add.
“You know back in my day ..” he paused again. He did that a lot and most of the time he forgot what he was even saying when he spoke again, as you can see.
“When was that, Grandpa? Back when they still had wagons?” Spencer smiled knowing damn well this would piss him off. “Now tell me, when was it that they went to a rubber tire as opposed to wood?”
“Oh, fuck you, Spencer,” he grumbled and then spilled his coffee down the front of his clothes.
“Are you nervous?” Emma asked Jameson while he fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He hadn’t said much tonight and, as of yet, no one had called him an asshole.
“No,” he answered adjusting Lane, who had fallen asleep on his lap. “It’s just a race.”
“You’re lying,” Spencer chuckled across from him. “It’s the Daytona 500. You’re probably shitting your pants right now.”
“Like I said... it’s just another race,” Jameson replied stretching his long legs out in front of him to lean back in the camping chair he was slouched in. “And, I’m not shitting my pants.”
He was constantly being asked the same question these last few days. “Was he scared?”
I knew he wasn’t. Nervous? Maybe, definitely not scared though. The thing you had to understand about Jameson was that, yeah, he would show nervousness to a point, but once inside that car, he was stalwart and fearless. Inside the confines of a race car, he was a different man. Sure, he had a few sides to him, what person didn’t, but the best part about him was that he never changed. Jameson would always be Jameson. I never doubted that.
You saw it all the time when someone comes into money or makes a big career move, they change. They suddenly become this distant version of themselves that no one recognizes. With all the success that Jameson has had over the years, he never changed. I heard some say, “Well, he’s not approachable either.”
The thing was, he has never been approachable, so why would he be now?
Money and fame didn’t change that. He’d always been that way.
Old Casten had fallen asleep by now and Tommy and Spencer were making fun of the drool coming over his beard. “That’s so disgusting,” Tommy laughed.
“You boys better stop messing with him,” Jimi warned shaking his head. Jameson didn’t get his wicked temper from just anyone. Jimi could be quick tempered at times, but Casten, he put a bull to shame, much like Jameson.
“He’s asleep.” Spencer defended. “He ain’t gonna know.”
Glancing around, I noticed an awful lot of people had gathered outside his motor coach. I don’t know how some of these pit lizards managed to get into the compound area where the drivers were, but I had a feeling some of them sweet talked the officials at the gate. Anyhow, a few had made their way over to Jameson’s motor coach while we continued to make fun of Casten and his drooling.
They were slutty leeches and I had no doubt they were only looking for one thing. Jameson.
One of them seemed taken by Jameson and kept moving closer to him. No one paid any mind to her, as it was usual for pit lizards to be hounding him. So there she was, about a foot from him, and I didn’t want to steal her thunder or Tommy and Spencer’s, so I discreetly took a seat across from them next to Jimi. Undoubtedly, I was not thinking when I did this.
Steal her thunder, you fucking idiot!
Maybe I wasn’t breathing enough and the supply of oxygen was being diverted again.
Alley came by, picked up Lane from Jameson’s lap and walked inside the motor coach out of the line of fire.
She didn’t like all the women hanging around and I couldn’t blame her. We were a bad enough influence on little Lane. I usually didn’t care for these pit lizards either but I’d had a few beers by then and was contemplating how to entertain myself at Jameson’s expense. This was dangerous territory by the way.
About ten minutes later, the girl noticed me and introduced herself. “I’m Sabrina,” she said, extending her free hand, the other wrapped around a glass of wine.
“I’m Sway,” I said, politely.
“Well, that’s an interesting name.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“How did your parents come up with that one?”
“I was named after the Rolling Stones song Sway.”
“Oh,” she smiled glancing over at Jameson like he was a piece of meat she was ready to tenderize. “Are you two?” She pointed back and forth between Jameson and me when he smiled.
“Oh no, no, he’s my best friend. We’re tight.” I winked at her and pounded my fist to my chest as though I was from the hood or something.
Jimi’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to control his laughter along with Spencer.
Jameson wasn’t impressed.
I might have only continued this because Jimi was so entertained. It had been a while since I saw him laugh this much but, then again, I was drunk.
I could only assume I was doing this because I’d been drinking because if he demonstrated any interest in her, I would have shit my pants at how incredibly stupid this was.
Jameson turned his head in order to avoid eye contact with me, and her.
Sabrina had a confused look on her face and opened her mouth to say something when I jumped in.
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
Jameson coughed loudly and stood. “Actually—”
I interrupted. “He’s shy.”
What is wrong with me? It’s like I’m trying to get her to come on to him?
She turned to Jameson about the time Jimi excused himself, his face red from suppressing his laughter.
Tommy and Spencer were glancing in between Jameson and me probably wondering how this was going to end.
“I think being shy is adorable,” Sabrina said, in his ear.
Jameson glared in my direction.
I didn’t know what to do, so I winked.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have done this but the fact that I knew he wouldn’t be interested made it that much funnier to me, and everyone else... aside from Jameson.
“I’m getting hungry,” I announced standing. I was also starting to panic and ready to bolt at any moment.
Jameson shot up out of the chair. “I’ll go get you something.” He eyed me with a venomous look on his face. “Since we’re tight and all.”
He came back a few minutes later and tossed a bag of chips in my lap before sitting back down in the only open chair, next to Sabrina, glaring in my direction.
“So, how did you two meet?” Sabrina scooted closer to Jameson.
I started to make something up when Jameson jumped in.
“We met when she got out of rehab,” he picked up my drink and sniffed the red cup. “Goddamn it, Sway. You shouldn’t be drinking!” he pointed his finger in my face. Then he shook his head, took me by the elbow, and said, “Let’s get you away from the temptation.”
Well, that did not turn out in my favor. Why does it always backfire on me when I’m trying to embarrass him?
Tommy, Spencer and now Emma, were laughing so hard they could barely stand.
I shrugged out of his grip. “Asshole,” I muttered.
He pushed me inside his motor coach. “What the fuck was that?”
I couldn’t help it; I once again panicked and started giggling. I panicked because I wanted to tell him, I was testing you to see if you’d leave with someone. Did I tell him that?
No, hell no.
He was not pleased by this and, if possible, became even angrier and left.
“It was just for fun!” I yelled after him still giggling. He flipped me off.
Nice going, asshole. You pissed him off.
After composing myself, I walked back outside the motor coach to find Jameson had left, Tommy chatting it up with Mariah, and Casten sound asleep.
I strolled around the compound looking for Jameson when I spotted him at Tate’s motor coach talking with him and Tate’s teammate Austin.
When I approached them, Jameson, with his arms crossed, shot me a look like “don’t you even think about embarrassing me,” so I didn’t. I figured I’d done enough for one night.
“This is Tate Harris,” he gestured toward Tate. “You guys met at the Chili Bowl, right?”
I nodded shaking hands with Tate and then turned to Austin.
“And this is Austin Yale,” Jameson said. “He drives the number thirty-two car.”
“Nice to meet you guys,” I smiled. Jameson surprised me and slung his arm around my shoulder pulling me next to him when Austin made small talk with me.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Austin who moved on to converse with a group of girls gathered near Tate’s motor coach.
So, he doesn’t leave with pit lizards, he makes out with me and shows possession? Can you say confused?
Jameson and I left soon after that to walk back toward his motor coach. I could tell a lot was on his mind. My first plan to distract him backfired and in fear that his tenuous good mood would get worse, I decided to talk racing and asked him if he thought his car could win tomorrow.
“Yeah—probably,” he said, disinterested. “It’s fast in the draft.” I thought he would say more but he shrugged his shoulders.
By the time we got back to his motor coach, Casten was on his second wind and had his flask back. I wondered how Nana kept up with the old bastard at home.
Spencer’s eyes lit up when he saw us. “Natalie asked me how you were.”
“Spencer, not now,” Jameson groaned.
Natalie? Who’s Natalie? I thought to myself, my stomach churning. Here I was, moments ago, provoking a pit lizard and now when another one is mentioned, I become terrified.
I’m such a girl that it is revolting.
“She left her phone number,” Spencer snickered handing him a napkin. He crumbled it up and tossed in the garbage next to the food table without looking.
“Who’s Natalie?” I asked hesitantly taking a seat. I tried to play it off like I wasn’t interested but I’m sure it didn’t appear that way, my face was reasonably flushed and prickly feeling. I could feel the heat radiating off myself.
“No one,” Jameson replied sitting next to me, his thigh touching mine. “She’s no one.” When he finally glanced over at me his look of honesty had me once again questioning his intention.
“Oh, come on, Jameson,” Spencer teased. “You remember her ... the freaky one from California?” all the guys started laughing as Spencer wiggled his eyebrows.
“Can we not do this right now?” Jimi took a drink of his whiskey shaking his head. “I don’t think I want to hear any of this.”
Nancy, Emma and Alley had left with Lane leaving me and the guys standing around.
“I agree,” Jameson nodded and I could tell that he was trying not to look at me again. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”
“What are you doing, Grandpa?” Spencer asked when Casten slapped the back of his head.
“That’s for being stupid,” he remarked in disgust. “Jameson obviously doesn’t want everyone to know who he’s been align boring.” Jameson shot out of the chair and locked the door behind him.
I’m sure by then Jameson was second-guessing my presence here.
Later, as in two hours later, he let me in because all my stuff was in there but he didn’t speak to anyone the rest of the night and insisted I sleep in his bed with him.
“Aren’t you mad?” I asked timidly crawling into bed with him.
“Yes, I’m mad but I’m also tired,” he grumbled tweaking his pillow the way he liked it. “Now, let’s sleep. I’ll be mean in the morning.”
“Oh, goody.”
He was quiet for a moment before leaning over and pulling me against him. His hand cupped my cheek. “Don’t do that to me again. I don’t want those girls,” his voice was drowsy, his eyes half closed. “I don’t want them.” He repeated and then let his eyes close, his beautiful thick lashes cast shadows over his cheeks. I ran my fingers over the rough edges of the stubble of his jaw.
So he slept and I contemplated what I had done. I don’t know why I tested him like that and if he would have left with Sabrina, I would have cried. I could only presume I did this out of pure curiosity. I wanted to see if he was presented the opportunity to leave with a girl, would he take it. During our summer, he would have left with her. Now, he didn’t seem to show any interest in other women. He glanced, but that was as far as he ever took it and never anything more than a quick glance.
Did this mean something?
I watched him sleep for an hour. He was on his stomach clad in a pair of black boxer briefs, his arms curled under a pillow. Every muscle in his body was sculpted to perfection and I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of the exposed skin, tasting him. I wanted to rape the poor boy for Christ sake.
Grumbling to myself, I turned the other way in fear I’d attack him. Images of our hot make out session the night I arrived replayed in my mind.
The way his body felt hovering over mine. The way his camshaft felt against me. I knew he wanted more, it was obvious but he stopped. He always pulled away, collecting himself before things advanced, which made me think he didn’t want this. That might have been why I tested him with Mariah.
That was stupid, Sway.
“I know,” I told myself.
It was around four in the morning before I finally fell asleep, but even then I dreamt of all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I wished like hell I had the nerve to tell him.
My alarm went off a four-thirty that morning, not that I wanted it to, but I wanted to get in a run before all the pre-race activities began. I knew I shouldn’t run before a race, but I had to clear my head and that was the only way I knew how.
Hoisting myself up, I turned off the alarm and sat on the edge of the bed in my motor coach for a moment before getting up.
I tried to remain quiet, though Sway pissed me off last night with her little stunt, I still didn’t want to wake her. It was my own fault anyway. If I would have been able to control myself more often, I wouldn’t have to deal with these stalkers. Yeah, my family loved to remind me of it nowadays but it was my own fault.
Sway was curled up next to me, her hands next to her face made her almost look angelic, almost. If you knew Sway, you knew that was not possible for her. Even though she pissed me off, I couldn’t not sleep next to her.
Being away from her for nearly a year, I had to be next to her. With the way our schedules were, what if I didn’t get to see her for another year? I couldn’t take a chance.
She looked so peaceful, her dark hair fanned out over my pillow. I watched for a moment her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her beauty was remarkable and had me wanting to hold her, so I left for my run.
The sun was beginning to rise over the track creating an array of light cerise across the sky. My favorite time of the day to run was at sunrise because it was the beginning of a new day, usually nothing had gone wrong yet and the possibilities were endless.
My iPod played Metallica loudly in my ears and I was able to tune everything out, tried at least. The scattered motor coaches and camp trailers in the infield passed by me in a blur as I picked up the pace of my run. I chuckled to myself as a few fans waved their hands in the air from where they were perched up on the roofs of their camp trailers. It’s hard to believe people willingly got out of bed this early.
I pushed myself harder, my feet hitting the asphalt faster. I envisioned the race in my head, my lungs burning painfully from the exertion. I tried to keep my thoughts clear, but they shifted back toward last night and the hounding pit lizards. I never thought Sway would instigate them, she knew how I felt about that but, then again, her words never matched her facial expression. I saw something behind her eyes I never saw before, compunction.
Once I made one lap around the track, I headed back to my motor coach to find Sway and Cal up already making breakfast. Simplex had delivered an array of apparel to us yesterday so I wasn’t surprised to see Sway wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with the logo plastered across the chest with matching sweatpants that appeared to be at least three sizes too large.
She was adorable.
“Are you in a better mood, asshole?” was Sway’s way of greeting me when I walked through the door.
“Hmm,” I contemplated taking a few strips of bacon, chewing slowly. “That depends,” I grinned looking down at her.
“On what?” Her brow furrowed as she ate her own bacon from the plate on the counter.
“You apologize for last night. That was not funny.”
“I thought it was funny,” Cal said loading a plate for me with his egg white mixture that I loved so much and wheat toast. “Your face was priceless.”
“You don’t have to do all this, Cal,” I chuckled as he poured some orange juice for me. “Driving my motor coach around for me is enough. You don’t have to feed me, too.”
“I enjoy cooking, Jameson. It’s no problem. And I’ve seen you make toaster waffles before.” His head tipped in the direction of the black smudges on the wall where I’d caught the toaster on fire last season.
Ignoring him, I turned to Sway, her mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Are you going to apologize?”
“Oh, yes,” she grinned and sat up straighter. “I’m so sorry,” she mocked.
Before I could tell her that the apology needed to be better, Alley was knocking on the door. “Jameson, you got a sponsorship meeting in an hour.”
And so it begins.
On race days, you had a sponsorship meeting where you basically kissed their ass and told them how you were going to win the race for them. Then you usually had about an hour of signing autographs, a team meeting, more autographs, the drivers’ meeting, more autographs, introductions, more autographs, and then the race.
I left after finishing breakfast to meet with Melissa at the Simplex hospitality tent. When I returned I walked toward the hauler to see Sway standing there dressed in a red dress that I wanted to rip off with my goddamn teeth. I hoped like hell she wasn’t wearing that all day.
Kyle was saying something to me but I gave him a blank expression until he punched my arm.
I was distracted, that was unmistakable, but in my defense, she was revealing a lot of skin. Skin I desperately wanted my hands, mouth, and any other body part on just to feel her against me.
“I’ve got a new rule,” Kyle leaned against the hauler crossing his arms over his burly chest. “No girls in your pit.”
“Why would you do a thing like that?”
He smiled. “To keep you focused.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I watched as Sway strode away with Emma and Alley back to the motor coach.
“She’s something.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s all fast-talking and brusque, wouldn’t want to mess with her.”
“You have no idea,” I rolled my eyes. “You should have seen what the little shit did to me last night.”
“I heard. Spencer told me.”
“Of course he did.”
Kyle and I headed for the drivers’ meeting after that and met dad there. Usually the only ones allowed in the meeting were the driver, crew chief and owner and, if you were late, you started at the tail end of the field.
On the way there, I hoped that I placed well in points next year. For one, I wanted to, being the single-minded guy I was and two, it’s a long ass walk anywhere you went. The team haulers were lined up by the previous year’s points, being a new team, guess where are hauler was parked?
Yep, last.
I listened in the drivers’ meeting but lost interest. NASCAR ran their meetings more formally than your average dirt track but they were still boring to me.
Everything changed each year in NASCAR. Rules change, drivers change, sponsors change, the schedule changes. I changed. I was no longer the kid I was when I began racing. I was now a Winston Cup driver with a multi-million dollar contract backing me.
You know back when I raced USAC and Outlaws and I thought I had stress trying to become Jameson Riley. That was laughable now. I had no fucking clue what responsibility was then. I wasn’t sure I did now, but I had constant reminders of how I could easily fuck things up. I still didn’t want to be known as Jimi Riley’s son and with him now being the car owner, I still got that from time to time, but it was getting better. In NASCAR, I was making my own name.
I thought about the times racing quarter midgets, telling myself that I’d be happy if I was racing full-sized midgets or mini sprints. Once I was in those, I wanted full-sized sprint cars, and so on.
Now I was at the top of stock car racing, what did I want?
I wanted to win. I wanted to win that Rookie of the Year and I wanted to win the championship. No driver had ever won the championship in their rookie season, I wanted to.
On the way back to the hauler after the drivers’ meeting, I ran into Darrin.
Apparently, I bumped him in practice and he felt the need to express his distaste for this. It went something along the lines of, “Hit me again and I show you how that wall tastes.”
I never did respond to him as fans began to surround us. I learned to pick my battles with him and it wasn’t worth it right then.
I’d gotten a lot of advice from other drivers on racing in the Cup series but they failed to mention what happened when you got out of the car. Suddenly reporters, fans, and, in my case, other drivers I’d pissed off at some point during the race were in my face.
I couldn’t offer them much, even in interviews I never knew what to say but when other veteran drivers would approach me and ask why I came down on them or took their line, I didn’t know what to say to them. I never did it on purpose but I was an aggressive driver out there. I didn’t think about what happened when I got in the pits until Dad pulled me aside a few days after the Budweiser Shootout.
“Jameson, be careful,” he told me offering his wisdom. “You don’t want to piss off the veterans or any driver for that matter. You never know when that guy may be your boss or teammate.”
That made sense to me, it did, but I also didn’t want to be the driver who was pushed around. Finding a middle ground was hard but I took to guys like Bobby and Tate and watched them closely on how they dealt with it. Bobby was reserved and shied away from the media at all costs but Tate was in their face telling them what he thought about this or that.
Clearly, I was going to need to do some more observing.
During the duel 125 races, I got bumped by Doug Dunham, a veteran driver on the series and ended cutting a tire. I ended up getting my spot back but it still pissed me off that he did that, it’s not like he didn’t know I was there.
I had never been afraid to tell someone exactly what I thought of them but I wasn’t exactly in the place to be telling a veteran driver that he had no right to bump me in the corner. Ordinarily, I had no problem with this, but with Dunham, he was a veteran driver in the sport and had a hell of a lot more clout than I did, so I bit my tongue and simply gave him a head nod after the race. I think he knew I wasn’t happy about it.
When I reached the hauler prior to the team meeting Kyle was laughing at me, once again, as Sway strode past me still wearing that damn dress.
Fuck me. Believe me, I wanted her to.
Looking away, I was starting to get irritated with all his laughing at my expense and really, I was having a hard time. I didn’t need him laughing at me.
“We’ve made a collective decision,” he teased elbowing me. “You need to tell that girl how you feel.”
“Well, let’s say hypothetically, maybe, let’s say probably that I feel that way ... it doesn’t change anything.”
“You never know,” he smiled. I didn’t want to be talking about this with Kyle, but over last year he had become a good friend of mine.
If I couldn’t talk about this with him, who could I?
“What will it change? I don’t have time for a relationship,” I sighed. “Do you know when the last day was that I had time for myself?”
“But you had time for pit lizards.”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“Well, for one, they don’t want more. They only want sex and there was no strings attached.”
“Maybe that’s what Sway wants.”
I had no response for him, I’d never thought about that but, then again, why would she want something like that?
Or did she? She didn’t have time for a relationship either.
Well, that throws a wrench in my thinking, doesn’t it?