SWOL – This is term refers to shifting without lifting.

 

By the time the boys and me reached the Olympia Airport that night, we were extremely intoxicated.

We had something to celebrate, you know.

I actually felt bad for Wes having to put up with us... especially Spencer and Tommy who we picked up in Indiana.

It still hadn’t really sunk in that I not only won the race, but the championship, as well.

After the race, I had four hours of press interviews to do and a shit load of pictures. I had appearances and interviews scheduled all week long, but Alley agreed to give me one day with Sway. I hadn’t seen her since I left for Texas, and that was three long weeks ago.

It was around four in the morning when we finally made it to Elma, and I was stumbling into Sway’s room.

She was sleeping, turned on her right side with her back to me. I stood there for a few moments, watching her sleep, using the wall to hold myself upright.

Still fully clothed, minus my shoes, I slipped into bed with her—pulling the comforter over us. Sway was only wearing a pair of white cotton boy shorts with her Bob Marley tank top she loved. Her perfect ass was enough to send me over the edge when I snuggled against her back. All I wanted in that moment was to feel her against me.

Sliding my hands over her swollen belly, it was the perfect end to the day.

When the sun began to rise over her balcony and peeked inside her room, I gathered her into my arms. She relaxed decadently across my chest and tucked her face into the curve of my neck with a happy sigh. I hadn’t slept much, but I did get a few hours.

Glancing down, I saw a lazy grin spread over her face.

“What?” I asked with a smile.

“Congratulations... champion,” she replied, softly snuggling closer. I squeezed her tightly and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, honey.”

I watched her eyelashes flutter a few times before closing them. We continued to exist in our perfect bubble—far from everything else. My mind and body were finally relaxed and sedated. And, so it was here, in our bubble, that I would remain for as long as time permitted.

I glanced at her alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed that read 5:38 a.m. I had another two hours before I had to be up for a radio interview.

Fuck.

“I missed you,” I whispered against the top of her head, placing another kiss against her soft hair.

She maneuvered herself in my arms to look up at me, her belly brushed against my stomach and I laughed.

“You’re really showing now,” I told her with wide excited eyes, reaching down to touch.

“Asshole,” she muttered, turning away from me.

“Hey ...” I turned her face back to look at me. “What’s wrong? I think it’s beautiful... you’re beautiful and incredibly sexy.”

“I’m huge,” Sway protested and tried to shimmy away from me. “You don’t have to be nice.” Her voice began to crack, and I knew the emotions that would follow.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” I soothed, rubbing my hands down her back as she trembled with sobs. “Are you mad your ass jiggles?” I reached down taking a firm grasp, while moaning into her ear to emphasize my point. “And, by the way,” I added with a growl, “it’s fucking hot.”

“Not helping my emotional breakdown,” she spat, getting out of bed. “It’s making it worse.”

“Where are you going?” She threw a pillow at me.

“To take my fat ass to the shower.” The door slammed behind her as she stomped down the hall to the bathroom. I heard the bathroom door slam shut and then open again. “Get the hell out of my bathroom!”

“Sorry!” Spencer yelled.

I forgot to tell her the boys crashed in the living room.

 

Between radio interviews, press, photo shoots, wedding planning, Thanksgiving... my life had turned into a category five cyclone. I couldn’t believe how much press and shit followed winning a championship; it was insane and nothing like winning a track championship or even the USAC Triple Crown. I couldn’t go anywhere these days without someone wanting an autograph, or a picture, or to tell me how they felt when they saw me win. I was beginning to feel like there wasn’t nearly enough pieces of me to go around. That wasn’t to say I didn’t appreciate them, but I wondered where I was in all of it.

I had no idea what day it was half the time, but Sway was there to help me. I was relieved that she was at least by my side now. There were times when the pressure got to me, and I felt as though I was drowning, once again, in the obligations, but all I had to do was take one glance into those emerald green eyes and suddenly, I could breathe again.

Actually, that was a lie, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe because I had the worst fucking cold I’d ever had, more than likely from the lack of sleep these days. My throat was sore, my nose was running like a faucet, and I couldn’t stop sneezing. It was disgusting. I hated sneezing and blowing my nose. I mean seriously, where does all that mucus come from?

It was utterly repulsive and completely unacceptable to me.

While Sway was out getting a pedicure with Emma and Alley a few days after Thanksgiving, I decided to go pick up Sway’s wedding band from the jewelry store in Olympia. The only problem with this was that Logan was with me. He’d gotten in trouble earlier in the day, but I’m not sure what for. All I knew was that I was now stuck with him. If there was ever a point in my life where I contemplated killing myself, it was when I was left alone with Logan.

Most of the day I was moments away from slipping him a Tylenol PM like I did to Charlie but decided against it when I thought about the rules of child abuse. I was sure that drugging them was not okay.

These past few weeks Charlie was always yelling for no apparent reason. He yelled at unsuspecting people all the time, but my personal favorite was when he was yelling at Logan, who usually responded with a what the fuck is your problem? look.

I thought about asking Logan why he was in trouble once again, but when I thought about the way Charlie was acting, I realized Logan probably had no clue as to why he was in trouble.

Logan was a little fucker the entire time, never stopped talking, and I was sure that there was actually something wrong with him. Originally, I thought he might have an extreme case of ADD, but it was more than that. I began to wonder if Andrea did some kind a recreational drug when she was pregnant with him; it would explain a lot.

Once we got back to the house, he took off like a bullet out of the car, with the wedding band.

“Logan!” I yelled after him. “You asshole, get back here with that!”

He wasn’t listening to me and took off down the street. Now, ordinarily, I wouldn’t have chased him, but he had the ring and more importantly, Sway’s ring.

Not only did I twist my ankle while chasing him, but I did a complete fucking somersault and then landed on my back.

Logan hovered above me, laughing, while I moaned about needing an MRI or x-rays.

After my downhill Special Olympics display, it’d be a miracle if I didn’t kill him or myself before Andrea returned for Hitler.

As I limped my way back to the house, with the ring, dragging Logan by the arm, I turned to him.

“Listen, you little fucker!” I had completely lost any remaining dignity that hadn’t been lost earlier when I had barrel rolled down a very public street. “You are going to act like a normal fucking human being.”

He laughed like my threats were nothing.

I began to wonder... no, that’s a lie... I knew Sway and I were in over our heads with this parenting shit. I just hoped our kid wasn’t as much of an asshole as Logan and Lucas were. Hopefully, he was more like Lane.

Once Sway returned, she looked exhausted as she plopped down next to me on the couch.

“What happened to him?” She pointed at Logan who was duct taped to a chair in the living room in front of the TV.

“He wouldn’t stop moving,” I told her with a shrug and continued to eat my Lucky Charms. “So I tied him up.”

“Is he alive?” she asked, scrutinizing his upright sleeping figure.

“Yes, he’s sleeping... I think.” I craned my neck to see his face. “Yeah, he’s breathing.”

“Is that considered child abuse?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t tape his mouth, just his hands.”

“Hmm...” She gave me a contemplative stare. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Sway looked over at me and started laughing, as did I. The fact that Sway and I both found this so entertaining was a perfect summation of our relationship.

Emma walked in with a shit load of bags and threw them on the floor. She too checked Logan’s breathing and then laughed.

Having Emma planning your wedding was slightly more enjoyable than getting your dick pierced with an impact gun. She had more energy than the energizer bunny and was in non-stop wedding planning mode.

The thing about my sister was that she was funny if you actually listened to her. She was smarter than most realized, could sell just about anything, had a heart the size of Texas, could drink most men out of the bar, could fight like Ali, and for someone without a crystal meth addiction, she had way too much energy.

“She’s never going to stop,” I whispered to Sway as Emma explained the rehearsal dinner to us once more.

“You’re right,” she concurred with a sigh.

“This is ridiculous,” I told Sway, watching Emma run around looking for her wedding planner. Spencer and I burned it the day before when she tried to tell us that we had assigned seating at the wedding.

“I’m getting scared,” Sway said with wide-eyes, giggling like a schoolgirl.

 

We now had two days before the wedding and Spencer was bugging the fuck out of me to have a bachelor party. This had about as much appeal to me as going on another date with Dana.

I gagged a little at the thought.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“I can’t go,” I told him, hearing the distant chuckles of Aiden coming down the hallway. I tried to hide the phone. “I’m not going.”

“Why? It’s your bachelor party.”

“Well, plans changed. I have pink eye.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do, my eyes are red.” I blinked a few times. “I could be highly contagious.”

“Your eyes are red because you have a cold. You’re not contagious, dick head.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Aiden, sitting next to me on the couch. “It’s your bachelor party.”

That annoyed me. “Listen,” I barked at both of them. “I’m not going!”

“Jameson... come on,” Spencer sighed heavily. “All the guys are in town tonight, just for you.”

I felt bad about that. My entire team had flown in for the wedding, along with Tate, Bobby, Justin, and Tyler. Even Tommy came out. I hated that they would fly across the United States and not be able to have a good time. But, I didn’t want to be a part of this “good time” Spencer had planned.

Despite this, I caved.

“Fine.” I fell back against the couch in defeat.

“Great, meet you in fifteen minutes.”

“I hate you,” I said and for good measure, I threw in an “asshole” before I hung up.

Whoever the clueless bastard was who thought it would be a good idea to pair me with siblings like Spencer and Emma should hope that I never meet him face-to-face.

Nothing about going to a strip club was appealing to me, at all. Against my better judgment, I was in a strip club a few hours later as some raven-haired woman tried to grind herself against me. Tate, Tommy, and Bobby sat beside me, laughing.

I hardly thought this was funny.

Not only did she scare the shit out of me with the amount of make-up she was wearing, but her bony figure looked like she could cut me in two if she turned too quickly.

This was not my first time at a strip club. When I was sixteen, Spencer forced me into one. I told myself then I’d never return but, alas, here we were. I didn’t understand the point of them.

Spencer and Aiden were up on stage with a couple strippers, getting pointers from them while I tried to, once again, push this woman off my lap. She wasn’t taking no for an answer so I grabbed her by the arm. “Listen, you either get off me... or I throw you off.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’ll get you off,” she cooed in my ear.

“Not what I meant,” I muttered, pushing her away. This time I stood so she couldn’t get back on. “I’m leaving!” I yelled over my shoulder, walking toward the door.

We eventually found an open bar and drank entirely too much alcohol, but it was better than a strip club.

Spencer, Tommy, and I were finally on our way home when Spencer yelled in my ear, “Dude, I think you’re getting pulled over.”

“Fuck.” I looked in the rearview mirror for confirmation. “Just don’t say anything,” I ordered, pulling over. “I mean it, Spencer, shut the fuck up.”

“Why me? What about Tommy?”

“Tommy doesn’t do stupid shit... you do,” I explained.

I reconsidered that statement when I turned around to see that he was holding an open beer bottle. Thankfully, it was empty, and he quickly shoved it under the seat before the officers approached.

There were a number of activities you shouldn’t do after midnight in downtown Tacoma. Most I’ll spare you the details for, but at the top of this list were things like going to a strip club, pumping gas, and getting pulled over.

 “I swear to God, you better keep your mouth shut, Spencer. I mean it,” I barked when the police officer shined the light in my face.

“Whatever. I can talk my way out of anything,” he slurred, sitting up straighter in the seat. “I’ve had to do it a time or two if you remember correctly.”

I wasn’t sure what Spencer was referring to. It was usually me having to talk our way out of things. He usually got us in deeper.

“This is not going to end well,” Tommy muttered from the back seat, slouching to one side as though he was about to pass out.

“I’m serious, Spencer, don’t say anything!” I whispered as violently as I could through clenched teeth. “Tommy, control him!”

“Me?” He quirked a lazy eyebrow, eyes glazed. “He’s your brother.”

I could tell he’d be of no help.

The officer approached the car, tapping his flashlight against the window.

Why did they tap on the window? It wasn’t like the flashing lights didn’t give it away that we were being pulled over. You knew they were there.

“Why, hello officer,” I greeted, rolling the window down and eyeing my brother with doubt. “How’s your night going?”

Not going to jail tonight depended entirely on Spencer not speaking or doing anything stupid. Which wasn’t likely to happen by the way. He always did stupid shit.

“License and registration,” was all he said.

I handed over my license and the rental car’s registration and rental agreement. “Can you tell me why I was pulled over?”

“You didn’t use your blinker when changing lanes back there.” The officer smirked as he looked up from my driver’s license. “Where are you coming from, Mr. Riley?” His eyes narrowed at my license. “Are you Jameson Riley the NASCAR driver?”

I smiled, knowing this could be my chance at getting out of this. “Yes.”

“Tell them you want your one phone call!” Spencer screamed beside me, leaning over the console. “It shouldn’t matter that you’re a NASCAR driver. Make them treat you respectfully, Jameson. Respect!”

The officer shined his flashlight in my face. “Have you three been drinking?”

“Well, it was my bachelor party,” I said, as if that would make it okay to drink and drive. “I had a few drinks.” He wasn’t buying my bullshit. “But I’m fine to drive. I feel great,” I offered with a smile, touching my fingertip to the end of my nose.

The thought wasn’t lost on me, or the officer, that now would be a good time to shut up. But I didn’t.

“Liar, you also drank those two pitchers of beer at the strip club,” Spencer groaned beside me, looking like he was going to puke any minute. I hoped he did. I hoped he choked too. “And that—”

I leaned over and started punching anything I could get my hands on, praying I was doing some sort of damage to him.

“Sorry, he’s mentally challenged.”

 “Uh-huh,” the officer said.

“Please stay in the car sir,” I heard the officer’s partner tell Spencer who was now trying to escape.

I punched him once more and tried to get a fist on his sweatshirt and pull him back inside the car. “Don’t move.” My glare focused on Tommy behind me. “Do something about him!”

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” Tommy asked with the same laziness he had before, his eyes focused on the officer trying to control Spencer.

“Sir, can you please step out of the vehicle?” he asked me.

Fucking great.

I did as he said, but as I leaned against the side of the car, Spencer slid over into the driver’s seat attempting to get out. “Sir, I told you to stay in the car. If you don’t listen, I’m going to handcuff you.”

“Fuck you. You ain’t handcuffing shit,” he responded. “You need to back off. I have rights, you know.”

“All right, sir.” The officer whipped out his handcuffs. “I warned you enough times. I’m going to have to detain you now.”

That shut him up, or at least stopped his attempts at moving. Nothing could stop his fucking mouth.

“Wait.” Spencer held up his hands. “My wife will kill me if I get arrested, please don’t! I’ll be quiet. I promise.” He put his hands over his mouth and talked around them. “See, I can be quiet.”

I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief that this night could get any worse after that horrifying lap dance. It was turning out to be the worst night of my life, and it was supposed to be my bachelor party, a time where most men have a good time and wake up remembering nothing. I had a feeling I’d remember this for a while, partly because of a possible DUI and jail time if Spencer didn’t shut the fuck up. I’m sure Dad and Simplex would love this one.

A few minutes later, you could guess who to thank for this, but we were all in the back of the patrol car as the cops did background checks or whatever it was that they did.

Next to us sat a kid, I assumed, who could pass for Eminem’s brother.

Just so you know, because it wasn’t at all comfortable, if you crammed four adult males into the back of a squad car, you are practically sitting on each other’s laps.

“Where you headin’, Slim Shady?” Spencer asked him eventually, when it was obvious we were going to be back here for a little while.

“Spencer,” I said pleadingly, looking over at the kid between us. “I’m sorry. He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s got some issues.”

I frequently found myself having to make excuses for Spencer’s behavior. And I wasn’t surprised at all that I found myself doing this so often.

Tommy started laughing on the other side of Spencer to the point where I actually thought he was crying. Complete one-eighty from his previous lazy ass. Being arrested did things to people, though.

“Stop telling people I’m retarded asshole. They’re going to believe you at some point.” Spencer jumped in, glaring at Tommy and then focused on me again.

“They should believe me because you are.” I’d apparently had enough of his shit and was losing my mind. “Look around Spencer, this is because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut.”

“Word.” Tommy added.

“Both of you are assholes then. Just so you know, being classified as having mental issues, or being retarded is not something to joke about. That is a very serious mental disorder; it’s not something to throw out there. Don’t be a dick. You shouldn’t make fun of people with that disorder. They had no control over it.” For a moment, I was surprised by his response and then he lost the dignity he’d gained with me when he finished with, “Like crabs, there’s no controlling that shit.”

“What?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Follow the conversation for once. You get distracted way too easily, and I’m left trying to explain things to you. It’s exhausting.”

Ignoring him, I focused on the kid again. I wasn’t entirely serious when I asked my next question, but I asked anyway.

“What are you back here for?” I asked casually, picking at the hole in my jeans.

“Murder, I suppose. I killed my brother,” he said, looking directly at me and then to Spencer as a sly grin tugged at his chapped lips.

It was then that I noticed blood on his army green jacket.

“Cool. I was contemplating killing mine,” I told him as coolly as I could, still picking my jeans. “Any pointers?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer slowly shimmying away from the kid. This amused me.

Tommy, well, he looked like his face was brighter than his hair.

The kid glanced at Spencer and then me. “Yeah, don’t get caught.”

“Anything else?” I don’t know why I was instigating this conversation further, but the look of pure shock on Spencer’s face had something to do with it.

“Nope. Just don’t get caught,” he said, still gauging my reaction as if he was playing some kind of sick joke on us.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, praying he was full of shit and judging by the blood on his jacket, knowing he wasn’t. I didn’t know if I really wanted to know anymore, but again, the look on Spencer’s face drove me. “So, how’d you kill your brother?” I asked, looking past him and toward Spencer with a scowl. “I really do need pointers.”

“With a crowbar,” he replied, undeterred by Spencer’s sudden onset of screaming.

I was not prepared for that response. Neither was Spencer.

What kind of sick bastard beats their brother to death with a goddamn crowbar?

What happened next was worth being back there with that crazy bastard though.

“Get us the fuck out of here!” Spencer wailed, climbing on Tommy’s lap and pounding his fists against the door. It was almost like the transformation of the Incredible Hulk or some other superhero transformation. “Let us out!”

Though I was still shocked they would put us in the backseat of a patrol car with a murderer, I was entertained by Spencer’s reaction.

Another ten minutes of this, the cops finally returned and removed us from the backseat, leaving Slim Shady alone.

“I see you all have fairly clean records,” cop one said, looking between the two of us. “So you’re free to go... but would it be possible to get an autograph and a picture with you, Jameson?”

Spencer snorted. “Fuck you!” He turned to me. “After that bullshit, I don’t fucking think so. Come on, Jameson.”

I laughed at him and signed the back of the cop’s ticket book, posing for a picture while Spencer stood alongside the curb, fuming. I think Tommy was a little frazzled to speak. He just kind of dazed out.

Once back inside the car, Spencer was still ranting about how fucked up that was. “Can you believe that shit?” he asked, looking over at me.

“It was entirely your fault,” I proclaimed, pulling into traffic once again. “Next time, shut the fuck up when I tell you to.”

I refused to speak to Spencer the rest of the way back to Elma, and once we got back to Sway’s house, I locked him and Tommy out.

“So,” Sway asked when I was crawling into bed with her. “How did it go?”

“I don’t want to talk about the rather mortifying experience of the downtown Tacoma strip club Spencer dragged us to and then almost getting arrested. Yep, just telling that small portion of it has me angry already so we will be avoiding the whole topic from this moment forward.”

“Got it,” she giggled, snuggling into my arms.

“Nope, you don’t get to giggle in this matter,” I told her, rolling over, pinning her to the mattress. “It was horrible. No laughing or giggling... or snorting... no sounds,” I growled against her neck.

She giggled a couple more times, but eventually stopped when her eyes locked on mine, all teasing was now gone. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever when her hand rose tracing the curve of my lips and then along my jaw.

“Are we really getting married in two days?” she asked softly, her eyes searching mine for confirmation.

I pulled her against my chest. “Yes,” I whispered against her forehead.

“It’s about fucking time.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, honey.”

Over the past six months, there were times I thought we would never make it to this point, but against all odds, we were here.

When Sway flew out to see me in Charlotte, I had no idea it would lead to her marrying me at the end of the season, but here we were. I honestly never thought she would consider friends with benefits, let alone wanting more from me, but she did.

I squeezed her tightly, whispering once again that I loved her.

From the moment I decided that I wanted to be a race car driver, I never thought I could have it all. I thought it was racing or everything else, not the two together. But over time, I realized that wasn’t the case. I realized that with balance, I could have both. I wanted both.

“Did you finish your vows?” Sway asked, suddenly propping herself up on her elbows.

“Uh... maybe.” I hadn’t finished them, but I would.

“Ohhh... Emma is gonna kill you.”

“Did you finish yours?” I challenged.

She shrugged without answering and lay down beside me again.

“Did you ever think when you flew out to see me... it’d lead to this?” I kissed her ring.

“No... I blame “Purple Rain.” It messed with my rationalization skills. Now look at me... I’m carrying around a flailing spaz and getting ready to marry his dirty heathen father.”

“I knew you’d give into me eventually,” I added.

“And, once again, so modest.”