Blocking – If another car blocks a car trying to advance their position, it’s considered blocking.

 

The morning we left for Mooresville didn’t start off so well. Actually, it sucked. I woke up and puked. I took a shower and puked. Jameson got in the shower with me, and I puked. It was really embarrassing, but Jameson took it like a champ. He was sidetracked by the fact that I was now sporting a baby bump.

Up until that point, my body hadn’t shown a single sign of being pregnant, aside from the enormous funbags. The bump wasn’t big, but it was there.

Jameson was in awe and wouldn’t stop touching me all morning. Every time I turned around, his hands were on my stomach, eyes wide with excitement. Finally, I told him if he touched my stomach again I was going to punch him in the junk.

I was also incredibly cranky. It might have something to do with the terrible tagalongs joining us this week. It was an awful idea to have them come along, but Charlie had never seen a live NASCAR Cup race, and that was something everyone should see. And the Lucifer twins had been begging me for months now to tag along. I was a little worried about Charlie flying in his condition, but Andrea assured me it would be fine. He was becoming crazier by the day, so I agreed to this only to spend as much time as I could with him.

I wish I was in better spirits about them coming but, alas, I wasn’t. To show you how shitty I was feeling, that day I even denied Jameson sex. Clearly, I was not feeling like myself.

Jameson pouted for a good part of the morning until I made him an omelet. Whenever I needed to distract him, I had a choice of showing him my funbags or giving him food. Since showing the funbags would result in him wanting boring time, I chose food.

While Jameson ate his delicious omelet, Charlie came out of the Lucifer twins’ room ranting about shit—actual shit.

“Logan, Lucas?” he called out. They hid behind Andrea, knowing he was already on a rampage this morning. “I found shit in your room.”

“Our toys aren’t shit,” Logan defended. He even placed his scrawny arms on his hips. “That’s not nice to say.”

“No, I mean actual shit... like feces.”

Logan shrugged, peeking around Andrea’s leg. “It’s from my shoe.”

“Well, I should hope it’s from your shoe, otherwise what the fuck?”

Getting everyone out the door was a feat in itself. Logan whined about not being able to take his Iron Man action figure. Jameson outlawed it when Logan threw it at him for the hundredth time that morning. Lucas whined about Jameson burning his Star Wars light saber earlier in the morning when he stabbed him with it. I would have done the same thing so I hardly felt bad for either one of them. They should know better than to fuck with Jameson. They should have a talk with Emma about fucking with Jameson—she could tell them some stories, including the one where she woke up glued to her bedroom wall because she stole his cell phone.

 

Once on the plane, I attempted to read a pregnancy book with Jameson hovering over my shoulder, reading along with me.

It was annoying as fuck having someone read over your shoulder. But what was even more annoying was traveling with all these lunatics.

Up until now, I hadn’t been listening to Charlie and his in-depth conversation with Logan, who, I’m sure, had no clue what he was talking about. I didn’t want any part of that conversation so I continued to read, regardless of Jameson breathing down my neck. It seemed like a better idea than listening to Charlie and Logan.

When I got to the part that talked about the baby kicking and that we could start to feel it soon, Jameson craned his neck forward to look at me.

“Have you felt that baby kick?” His eyes lit up, excited. I stared at him for a moment, the morning light coming in from the small window beside us highlighted his stubble over his jaw.

“No... not yet,” I lied.

I had my reasoning. When he felt it, I wanted Jameson to think he’d felt the baby for the first time because, like I said, there would be many things in our child’s life that he would unfortunately miss. Feeling our child move was an experience I wanted him to have.

His hand immediately went to my stomach but, of course, our stubborn child did nothing but lay there like a blob on my bladder.

Logan, who’d been whining about food for the last hour, finally got on Charlie’s nerves long enough.

“Listen, Logan!” Charlie yelled, his voice echoed throughout the cabin. “You’re a tornado of bullshit right now. We’ll talk again when your bullshit dies down.”

Logan threw himself into his mom’s arms, crying.

Jameson and I laughed.

Charlie glared. “You two just wait!”

When the plane landed at Charlotte Douglas International Airport, we made our way over to Jameson’s Mustang that was waiting for him. I was relieved that it only had two seats. The rest of the terrible tagalongs took an SUV to their hotel for the night.

I went to the bathroom before we got in the car, but ten minutes into the drive, I had to pee again.

“I have to pee,” I announced when Jameson pulled onto the highway.

“Seriously?” he groaned, glancing sideways at me. His Oakley sunglasses slid down his nose. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Yes.” I smiled, distracted briefly by those damn sunglasses and how the black contrasted the green in his eyes.

“Can’t you wait? Hold it.”

“Can’t.” I was starting to sound like a spoiled child who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Yes, you can.”

“No... I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” And now Jameson was starting to sound like a father.

“No.” I shook my head. “I really can’t.” I began bouncing my legs in my seat much like Emma did when we were camping, which wasn’t helping my problem of needing to pee.

“Sway,” he sighed. “Just wait.”

“Jameson.” I sighed dramatically.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“How much do you like this car?”

“A lot, why?” His eyes scrutinized me.

“Cause I peed.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Goddamn it, Sway!” Jameson shouted crossing two lanes of traffic to get into the right lane. “You couldn’t fucking wait, could you?”

“Nope.” What was funny to me wasn’t to Jameson. I didn’t really pee in his precious Shelby GT 500, but it was fun convincing him of this.

Jameson, visibly upset, pulled off the highway, stormed into the rest stop bathroom, and returned with entire roll of paper towels. “I can’t believe you,” he mumbled, throwing the door open.

I got out before he could realize I didn’t actually pee.

Although when I made my way back to the car, his callous expression worried me a little.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?”

I slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Waiting on you now,” and got back inside.

Once back on the road, Jameson was quiet so I decided a good distraction was in order.

“What are you doing?” he asked when I unbuckled myself and leaned across the center console to run my fingers lightly up his leg.

“You need a distraction...” I answered in a soft voice that I knew would arouse him.

My dirty heathen returned. His gaze shifted from the road, irritation subsiding when he grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me. Casually his arm lifted from the steering wheel and draped around the back of my seat. “Go ahead, honey, distract me.”

It didn’t take long, two minutes to be exact, and I had him properly distracted.

“What’s that face for... does it taste bad?” he asked when I took a large drink out of my water bottle.

“Not really...”

It was bitter, but I didn’t want to tell him his oil leak tasted badly. That would be mean. And it didn’t taste bad, it was just bitter.

“You don’t have to... you know... swallow it.” Jameson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, buttoning his jeans.

“I know... but I like to,” I told him. “You should eat more pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” he looked at me, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yes, more pineapple. Makes it taste better, or so I’ve read,” I explained with a shrug. “I’ve never tested the theory out... yet.”

He only nodded, but I could tell he was curious as to where I learned that. Growing up without a mother, I had to rely on my own research or Nancy and Emma. This had me doing my own research frequently. So I got a sex book that was written by a porn star, Jenna Jameson. I thought for sure if I needed advice, I needed to rely on professionals. And I wondered how I got knocked up?

 

Later that night, Nancy had the brilliant idea that we all go to dinner. Brilliant to her, dumb to us.

Jameson and I personally thought this was a horrible fucking idea, but who would ever listen to us?

Once at the restaurant, Logan exercised his asshole skills, screaming like the child he was for a milkshake. I tried to be grown up about it, not freak out on him and his loud querulous behavior, but I wanted to smack the little shit. That might have provided some issues with child abuse so I didn’t. Though I was positive people would take my side when I told them how he was being completely ridiculous for a six-year-old.

Andrea stood by, watching the madness unfold. What happened to parental control? He may be only six years old, but I was pretty sure he should know how to act normal.

It didn’t take long, and I was eating my body weight in pork ribs with barbeque sauce smothered over everything.

The Lucifer twins, who were sitting beside me, continued to act like complete assholes.

Lane began to take notice. He was either wondering what their problem was or contemplating acting the same way to get what he wanted. Who knew which one he would choose because right then, he was staring at them with a blank expression.

It also didn’t take long before Alley was directing the flow of fans away from Jameson so he could actually enjoy a hot meal without some fan wanting an autograph or picture. It was completely useless because the more she pushed them away, the more they swarmed.

When another fan approached, I looked toward Spencer—his face and hands covered in barbeque sauce—as he stared intently at Tommy and Justin across from him. I had a feeling with the way Tommy was staring back that they had some kind of unspoken eating contest going down.

Ryder Christensen, a USAC driver Jameson had known for years, showed up about that time. Pushing past the fans, he gave Jameson a hug and then sat down to enjoy some good barbeque with us.

Emma smiled politely at Ryder. She lost her virginity to him back when Jameson was competing for the USAC Triple Crown National title. Aiden must not have known, but Ryder was polite enough he didn’t make a big deal and smiled at her. They never had a relationship, just humped.

Laughing, I looked at Jimi when I heard him chuckle. He and Nancy seemed to be in their own personal bubble, ignoring everything else around them and having a moment with each other. That was until a fan requested his autograph.

Jameson wasn’t the only one being stalked tonight. Jimi, Ryder, and Justin had their fair share, too, but nothing close to the pure lunacy surrounding Jameson. It was times like this I realized how much of Jameson’s privacy had been raped from him. He had none anymore. The quiet way he spoke and the wary way he watched the crowd around him told me he was uncomfortable.

After another thirty minutes, Jameson was finally able to eat his cold meal. The overly flirtatious waitress brought out another plate for him, trying to cajole him into going home with her. Up until that point, I remained seated across from Jameson, until he winked and motioned for me to come over when the waitress wouldn’t leave.

I swaggered my knocked-up pigizzle ass over to him. I was originally going to take a seat next to him but instead, he pulled me onto his lap.

I smiled widely at the public display of affection. A few fans took some pictures of Jameson and I seated together, which I really didn’t mind. I was happy to be close to him. Just his scent had a way of calming me down.

Jameson eventually started eating but kept me seated securely on his lap, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he licked the barbeque sauce off his fingers.

Lucas decided he was cold and stole Jameson’s North Face jacket from the back of his chair.

This didn’t seem like something Jameson would usually get upset about, but he did.

“Lucas!” he seethed, scrambling for him. “Give me the fucking jacket.”

Lucas ignored him and stuck his tiny arms through the sleeves, then started rummaging around through the pockets like the klepto he was.

“Hey—what’s this?” Lucas asked, removing a black box from the pocket. Before I could get a good look at what it was, Jameson lunged for Lucas, knocking glasses and plates over in the process to get to him.

Emma and Alley moved to sit next to me, which I assumed was a distraction as Jameson retrieved the mystery box from Lucas. I had a distinct feeling that black box was the mysterious box in his pants the other night.

Ten minutes later, Jameson was seated next to me again, staring at me like he wanted to ask something. I was about to ask him why he was staring at me when Logan laughed. “You shouldn’t carry the—” Charlie cut him off by grabbing his head into a headlock.

“Kids.” Charlie grinned. “Little bastards say the stupidest shit sometimes.”

Jameson’s head fell forward against the table, mumbling something I couldn’t make out.

I also had a feeling as to what was in the box, but I also had enough sense not to ask. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to tell me.

 

After dinner that night, Jameson and I intended on watching a movie, but once we were alone in the dark movie room, trying to pick a movie, he had other plans. With my arms wrapped around him, he moved and placed his hands in the back pockets of my jeans.

Bending his head, his mouth found my neck and a moment later, I found him on top of me, right where I wanted him.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” his low voice whispered in my ear.

I whimpered in reply, “Me, too.”

Pulling me closer, his hand found its way lower, wrapping around my knee so he could push himself deeper between my legs but still cautious of my baby bump.

He was moving so deliciously, the friction he desired for proper reciprocating motion, and grinding against me so nicely that I nearly forgot where we were.

His firm body pushed me into the leather, and I let out a whore moan of epic proportions. I could actually feel his camshaft harden in response.

“You’re killing me, honey. I want you so bad.” The way he intoned the word “want” left me a quivering mess in his arms willing to give him anything he wanted.

“Me, too,” I panted against his neck. “I think I need to check for thickness variation.”

What started out as something fairly chaste, turned violently passionate at those words. My back arched into him. I moaned in his ear, which spurred him.

“Let’s go up to my—” he stopped when he heard footsteps. “Fuck …”

“Just coming to see if you picked a movie ...” Nancy interrupted, coming into the movie room. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you need a condom?” She giggled. “Never mind, you already knocked her up.” Another giggle escaped her.

“Maybe if we’re quiet,” Jameson whispered, “she’ll leave.”

“Not likely, Jameson.” She brushed her hair from her face to get a closer glance. “Get off her Jameson. You’ll squish her.”

“Mom... leave,” Jameson said through kisses and my giggles. Thankfully, it was dark, and she couldn’t see all that well, but I’m sure she knew what he was doing between my legs. After all, she was the mother of two boys.

“Well, you shouldn’t be dry humping her on the couch,” Nancy huffed. “There are children present.”

“Hey!” Emma chirped, walking into the room. “Ewww, gross, get off her.”

“Leave,” Jameson said more sternly to the two of them.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” She moved closer tucking her rusty locks behind her ear. “I think you’re crushing Sway and the baby.”

Emma giggled, curling into the chaise lounge on the other side of us. “Yeah, you’re squishing her fat ass.”

“I’m fine, Nancy, and so is the baby,” I said from under him.

“Good.” Satisfied, she sat in an overstuffed leather chair next to us. “Let’s watch a movie. Logan, Lucas, the movie is on!”

Jameson growled against my neck. “Damn it.” His head fell against my shoulder and then he reluctantly rolled off me to sit up, pulling a pillow over his lap, which made me giggle again. He shot me a glare but smirked after a moment when I mouthed, “later.”

Emma laughed. “Poor Jameson.” She gave him a pouty lip.

Jameson being Jameson snatched the popcorn bowl from Nancy and launched it at Emma across the room, ending her giggle fit.

I felt like a kid again who got caught making out which made me giggle again. I stopped giggling all together when the Lucifer twins joined us.

They’d apparently already wrapped Nancy around their fingers and convinced her to let them stay at the house instead of the hotel with Charlie and Andrea.

It was a bad idea.

 

I must have fallen asleep in the movie room because when I woke up it was morning, I was in Jameson’s room, and he was nowhere to be found.

After taking a quick shower, I made my way downstairs to find everyone gathered around the table outside on the deck.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked Jameson, watching him pick through the fruit. “You hate pineapple.”

“No, I don’t,” Jameson mumbled, reaching for the pineapple from the breakfast spread Nancy arranged.

“Yes, you do, dude.” Spencer continued to load an obscene amount of bacon on his plate.

“Shut up,” Jameson responded walking away, pineapple in hand, to sit down at the table. The morning sun caught his rusty loops that where peeking out from under his white hat.

Thinking of Jameson eating pineapple, which he did, in fact, hate, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Everyone turned to look at me standing near the French doors.

Nancy, the loving mother she was, jumped at the chance to help me with a plate. “You’re up, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Good... hungry.” The entire house smelled delicious—pancakes, waffles, eggs, potatoes, fruit, bacon—oh God, it was a pregnant woman’s dream come true. Nancy had once again outdone herself.

After piling my plate in a similar fashion as Spencer had, I took a seat beside Jameson. He immediately smirked, eating his pineapple, and pushed a cup toward me, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly to both acknowledge my presence and the fact that he was eating pineapple.

I eyed the paper cup and pineapple suspiciously. “Where’d that come from?”

“I went and got it for you this morning.” He shrugged. “It’s a decaf white chocolate mocha.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you seemed tired last night so I thought you’d need it this morning.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

Jimi grumbled, “Stop it.”

Neither one of us said anything. Jimi didn’t need to know what happened out here, and I was sure he felt the same.

Later that afternoon we left for Darlington, South Carolina. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Mooresville, so I was surprised to see we took Jameson’s Mustang. Usually he never drove the car anywhere longer than a few miles.

Darlington Raceway was a 1.36 mile, egg-shaped, asphalt track. It’s also known as The Lady in Black or The Track Too Tough to Tame. It’s tricky because both ends of the track are different configurations.

The race was on Saturday night, which meant the first practice session would be on Wednesday. Jameson’s week was full of sponsorship commitments, doctor appointments, and other various media conferences aside from Friday night.

While Alley went over Jameson’s schedule with him, the Lucifer twins were trying to convince Andrea and Charlie to take them to some water park they found on Google, but Charlie was having no part of it.

“I don’t think so. You go ahead. I’d rather not be shot out of a tube into a pool full of urine.” He took a drink of his orange juice. “That doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

Watching the interaction between Jameson and Alley, it was more evident Jameson was distracted.

He was starting to worry me. He kept acting as though he wanted or was trying to tell me something but never did. Maybe the timing was off, or maybe he didn’t know how to say it.

I’d never understood why people didn’t say what they felt. Not that I was some sort of expert in this. Jameson and I were a perfect example of how I wasn’t an example.

I thought it was out of fear.

Many of us, including me, put things off because we feared what would happen when we made that decision. Then what? Was it the right one? Could we take it back if the outcome wasn’t what we envisioned?

For me, I didn’t regret anything. I thought you had to see for yourself and play the hand you were dealt.

Grandpa Casten once told me, and I remembered Jameson quoting this the night he first said I love you: “Remember what you’re giving up because you never know what you’re getting.”

The conversation originally took place while arguing with Jameson about who got the last Dr. Pepper when we were twelve, but I still remembered the phrase Casten used to shut us up. It meant nothing to us at twelve, but now, it packed a punch.

I believed we needed to make those mistakes in order to learn our own lessons. How else would we learn if not by making mistakes?

Just like when a child slams his finger in the door. He doesn’t do it again unless, of course, he’s Tommy and does it weekly, because he does.

When you think about it, a child doesn’t know that it hurts to slam your finger in a door until he does it. We don’t know anything is wrong until we have done it once and the outcome wasn’t ideal. Then we have something to go on.

I’ll be honest with you, it bothered me that my parents kept their illnesses from me, but I also understood at the time of my mother’s onset of breast cancer, I was young and wouldn’t have understood anyway. You couldn’t expect a six-year-old to understand that.

With Charlie, I think he kept it from me because, as I said, fear of the unknown.

There were many times throughout my life that I wish I had my mother around. Like when my first boyfriend, Adam, broke up with me in the third grade because I wouldn’t share my pudding cup with him. I cried for a week and almost sent poor Charlie off the deep end. By the way, I still don’t share pudding cups. Thankfully, Jameson has never asked because I’d have to say no.

I knew there would be times in my life where I wanted Charlie around: the birth of my child or for him to walk me down the aisle. Despite my wants, I wasn’t so sure Charlie would be around for them. What I focused on, though, was what I could control, not what I couldn’t, as it was out of my hands.

You have to find a balance between what is and what isn’t.

Now, if only Jameson would tell me what was bothering him.

Every time I asked he gave me a pensive shrug, dismissing my attempts.

I don’t know how the media got wind of me being pregnant, but the questions to Jameson and me were relentless in Darlington. It might be that I was now sporting a noticeable baby bump, which I tried to hide.

My attempts to hide came to an abrupt halt when Spencer, Aiden, and I were standing around the garage area and Jameson was on the track for his second practice session Thursday morning.

Ashley, the whore FOX Sports reporter, made her way over to me. I didn’t care for Ashley Conner. Mostly because she slept with Jameson a few years back.

“Look at you!” Her eyes gave me that gauging once over. “Looks like someone should to cut back on the carbs,” she snarled, smiling at Spencer and Aiden.

If I didn’t think it’d hurt the baby, I would have pummeled her miniature ass. My mind shifted, imagining a time when she and Jameson were together in ways we were.

I almost puked all over her when I thought about Jameson having sex with her.

“She’s not fat, she’s pr—” I cut Spencer off.

To prevent being exposed, I reached around in my purse and threw the first thing I could at Spencer’s head to shut him the fuck up.

Ashley gasped rather loudly when she looked at what I’d thrown.

What did I grab from my bag?

My pregnancy book, with my ultrasound picture taped to the outside. It landed with a thud next to Spencer’s feet. He rubbed the spot on his forehead where the book hit. Four sets of eyes examined it closely.

By doing this, I inadvertently told the entire world I was knocked up, with Jameson Riley’s baby.

Did I say anything in that moment to redeem myself?

No. Instead, I took the book from Aiden, who was holding it out with a smirk of amusement, and replied with, “I’m really hoping it has Jameson’s hair.”

Ashley turned toward me. “Don’t expect him to marry you now.” Her eyes did that gauging-judging-glance again as though she was now imagining what I had been just moments ago. “Jameson will never be faithful to one woman.”

Again, if I didn’t think it would have harmed my baby, I would have pummeled her.

Later that afternoon, a portion of my dignity had returned and then left as quickly as it came.

There we were relaxing, and eating ice cream in the motor coach. Jameson, his attention balanced between the television and laptop, he mindlessly flipped through the channels pausing on FOX Sports.

Distracted, his attention flickered from the points standings to the flat screen television in the corner when they told on me.

“It appears NASCAR’s Rowdy Riley will be dealing with his own little hothead come March. His girlfriend, Sway Reins, General Manager of Grays Harbor Raceway in Elma, Washington, confirmed this afternoon that she is expecting.”

They then showed the clip of me chucking the book at Spencer and my reply.

I should have known it was being recorded.

Jameson glanced from me to the television, to the laptop, and then back again. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion and then arched, giving me that what-the-hell-were-you-thinking look.

“Did you... say that?”

I shrugged and continued to eat my Chunky Monkey ice cream, not letting on to my lack of judgment earlier in the day.

“Oh, this I wanna hear.” His grin widened. “Come on, honey. Don’t hold out on me now.”

After the media shenanigans, I decided shrugging was safer than speaking. I should have had that revelation earlier today. It would have saved me a lot of grief and embarrassment.

Jameson laughed, throwing his arm around me. “I had bets it’d be Spencer who told the media—not you. I just lost two hundred dollars to Alley.”