The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (2 page)

“Get off that, it’s for show only.” I started to look
around the store to see who was watching.

“No they’re not. Why else would they put them out here
but for testing?” His eyebrows waggled.

“I don’t think so sport, get up.” He only sprawled out
further. “They’re for show only.”

“Come over here.” His voice was dripping with sex, sex
that I desperately wanted. These last few days I had turned him down just
because I was so uncomfortable.

“No, I’m not getting into trouble.”

Even though the thought of a quick qualifying lap on that
bed, in public, was incredibly enticing, I did not want to go to jail and
become someone’s bitch. First-of-all, I didn’t need any more tattoos and
second, I wouldn’t look good with a buzz cut.

“
Wife
...
I
think given the terms in which we are here
...
you
should be nicer to me.” He hedged reaching for me.

“
Husband
,” I yanked him up by his shirt. “We’re
here for dishes.”

We didn’t get up and eventually started making out on the
show bed.

“Excuse me,” a timid voice whispered beside us. “I’m
going to have to ask you to get off the bed. It’s for display only.”

I looked over my shoulder to see a tiny red haired girl
smiling down at us, her innocence radiating in her flushed appearance.

“See
...
I told
you.” I muttered.

Jameson gave the young girl a lopsided grin, trying to
earn her forgiveness with his looks. I slapped him on the side of the head.

“Let’s go champ.”

He groaned but followed.

Eventually we settled on some new dishes and cookware. It
came in handy to share a brain at times—it meant that we agreed on almost
everything that went into our house. I say almost because Jameson refused to
let me paint the baby’s room a soft blue. He seemed to think he needed
something a little more manly. We settled on a tan color.

“Now
...
I need to
go to the grocery store.”

“I don’t think so.” He told me putting the bags in the
Expedition. “I hate grocery stores. Too many people in them.”

“Fine,” I smiled. “I can go by myself.”

“I don’t hate it that much. “

Whew, I’m getting good at this!

Since the incident with Darrin, if Van wasn’t with me,
Jameson refused to let me go anywhere by myself and knowing his feelings toward
the accident, I couldn’t blame him.

After the grocery store, we picked up Lane so that Alley
and Spencer, Jameson’s older brother, could finish their Christmas shopping. I
also think this was their plan to get us some parenting experience. I didn’t
feel the need to inform them of what happened to Logan’s hamster Blubber. No
one needed to know about that homicide as I was never formally charged with
anything.

Lane never stopped talking—I was actually a little
worried that he hadn’t taken a breath on the way home.

“I’m hungry.” He announced when we walked into the house
tossing his coat over his shoulder.

What should I feed him?

What does one feed a three-year old? What do you even
feed babies? I really need to do some research.

I reached for Jameson’s favorite, blueberry pop tarts.
You can’t go wrong with pop tarts, or can you?

“What’s pop tart?” Lane asked, appearing by my side.

Jameson lifted him up onto the counter while we both
stared at him, confused.

How could a kid not know what a pop tart was?

“What’s a—” I was in shock. “You poor child!” I pulled
him into a hug. “What kind of world are we living in when parents don’t feed
their kids pop tarts?” I grabbed his chubby little cheeks and squeezed, his
adorable pink lips pushed together. “Please tell me you’ve at least had ego
waffles?”

I let go so he could speak.

“Duh
...
uncle Jay
eats those all the time.”

Jameson smiled ruffling his hair. “They’re fucking delicious,
that’s why.”

“Jameson!” I gasped. We really needed to work on this
language issue we were having. “You better hope he doesn’t repeat that around
Alley.” I whispered to Jameson handing the toasted pop tart to Lane.

“You know
...
” Lane
began, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I not say if you give me something.”

I still found it adorable when he missed words.

“Wow,” Jameson laughed lightly, his shoulders shaking
with the motion. “He learned younger than Spencer and I did.” Reaching around
to his back pocket, he pulled a dollar out of his wallet. “Will that work?”

Lane’s eyes gleamed as he took the said dinero from him.
“Yep,” and then he jumped off the counter, pop tart in hand.

A few hours later after we got everything put away,
Jameson was keeping Lane busy as I prepared everything for tomorrow’s
festivities when I heard our doorbell ring.

I was not at all prepared for who was at the door.

“Look Jameson,” I swung the door open both annoyed and
concerned.  “
...
our
neighbors
came over to welcome us to the
neighborhood
.”

Jameson appeared around the corner with Lane on his back.

“Oh really, who—” he stopped mid step when he saw Dana
Sloan, his harmless, but peppy stalker fan, standing there with Cooper Young, a
guy I slept with in high school. Let’s just say neither one of these people he
wanted to see. Ever.

“You have to be shitting me?” Lane reached around
Jameson’s shoulder and held his hand out.

“Nope, not shitting you,” I smiled at Dana. “They made
cookies. We can eat them later.”

He gave me a “hell no” look but nodded.

“How long have you two lived next door?” I asked, trying
to mask my discomfort with the entire situation.

“Oh, we just moved in about a month ago.” Dana beamed.
“We’re just renting for now but we’re hoping to buy it now.” You couldn’t miss
the meaning behind that.

“How long do you plan on living here?” Dana asked and
then began talking about something else and then back to another subject. She
was all over the place. You couldn’t keep up with the speed in which her mouth
was moving. “You didn’t answer
...
how
long do you plan to live here?”

“We didn’t say.” Jameson replied. That was all he said.

We stood there in awkward silence before I decided to
fill it.

“So we were just leaving.” I hinted reaching for my coat.

Jameson had quickly disappeared but Lane was now counting
his money on the kitchen stool.

Goddamn him, he left me alone with these assholes.

“Well, we were just about to head out so
...
” my voice faded again hoping they’d take
the hint.

We weren’t really going anywhere but I had to get them to
leave somehow.

“Okay
...
I made you
some cookies.” Dana pushed a plate of chocolate chip cookies at me. “I know
they’re Jameson’s favorite.”

They weren’t. Everyone who knows Jameson knows that
oatmeal raisin is his favorite cookie.

“Mmm
...
yes
...
he can’t get enough of those
chocolate
chip cookies
.” I emphasized the chocolate chip cookies part rather loudly
for no particular reason at all.

Cooper and Dana both looked at me as if I’ve completely
lost it but at least they finally leave, after telling me a shit load of times
that they loved our house and Merry Christmas. They all but skipped off the
porch, hand in hand.

“Weirdo,” I heard Lane say off in the distance.

“Jameson?” I called climbing the stairs.

“Yeah,” his voice sounded muffled and distant.

“Where are you?”

“Who’s with you?”

“It’s just me asshole. Where are you?”

“In the kitchen,”

I waddled my ass back into the kitchen. It was the only
way to walk these days. I won’t say how much weight I’ve gained because it was
just downright embarrassing and I’m pretty sure even an elephant, who’s
pregnant for two years, doesn’t gain this much weight.

“Are they gone?” he asked but I still couldn’t see him.

“Where are you?”

The pantry door swung open and he and Lane barreled out
with water guns and soaked the shit out of me.

I was prepared though. I knew this was going to happen
eventually when he bought those goddamn things the other day. I quickly
maneuvered my sea lion ass to the sink and drenched them with the sprayer.

The impromptu water fight ended on account of flooding in
our brand new kitchen and left Jameson, Lane and I laughing and soaking wet in
almost an inch of water.

As we’re mopping up the floor, well Jameson was, I was looking
out the back window at the lake where Cooper and Dana were waving to us from
their paddle boat.

“We have neighbors Sway.” He leaned against the
cupboards. “Peppy-stalker neighbors,”

“What they doing?” Lane asked looking out the French
doors in the kitchen, his tiny arm stuck inside a bag of Cheetos.

“It appears these assholes are stalking us,” Jameson told
him stealing a couple Cheetos when Lane walked over to him as he sat on the
kitchen floor. Lane held out his hand and plopped down on his lap. Jameson in
turn handed over another dollar.

“We should get a security system installed.”

“We already have one but we’re for sure installing
security cameras and a barbwire fence.” Jameson added.

“Barbwire is tacky.”

He looked up at me from the floor with a contemplative
expression. “You’re right
...
make it an
electric fence, more reliable anyway. It might keep Spencer out too.”

Lane looked up from the cookies he stole off the counter.
“I need milk.” A couple pieces of cookie flew out of his mouth onto Jameson’s
arm.

Jameson tried to keep his cool but if you knew him, you
knew that nearly anything on his skin repulsed him and chewed up cookies crumbs
were no different. He calmly set Lane on the ground next to the saturated pile
of wet towels, stomped to the bathroom, and closed the door.

“What’s wid him?” Lane asked, his bright blue eyes
curiously looking in the direction Jameson had gone.

“He has issues with stuff on his skin.” I explained
wiping the chocolate from his face with one of the towels on the floor.

Lane seemed to contemplate this for a moment before
smiling. “Dat could come in handy.” I could almost hear the “moohahaha”
chanting in his head as he walked into the living room, Cheetos and cookies in
hand. It was at that moment that I became aware that Lane was exactly like
Spencer.

I spent the rest of that evening preparing everything for
tomorrow with a giddy high. Since he was diagnosed with metastatic brain
cancer, I knew Charlie, my dad, wasn’t going to be around much longer and I
desperately wanted everyone together.

I also knew it was a horrible idea
...
but what wasn’t a horrible idea for
any
family to all
be in the same house at the same time? We may all be completely crazy but
families are window nets, as Jameson calls them. They keep you from falling out
of the car completely.

On Christmas Eve, our entire family arrived around two
and it took me a good hour to get Jameson to even come down stairs. Before he
did, I found the need to warn the twins, also known as my twin half-brothers
from hell. There were pretty much the worst children ever and I frequently
referred to them as the Lucifer Twins.

“Listen you two,” I grabbed their little cheeks in my
hands, squeezing. Two sets of chocolate eyes watched me carefully. “Stay away
from Jameson today.” I told them. “I’m only looking out for your safety. What
the hell are you?” Lucas was bouncing up and down like he had to pee. “Stop
moving.”

“I need to pee.” He replied reaching between his legs.

“Then pee,” I sighed. This parenting shit was exhausting.
“In the bathroom,” I specified when he grinned.

I spent most of the morning with the women of our
families cooking for this meal. When everyone was finally eating, I was
pleasantly relieved. I enjoyed cooking with the girls as it was a nice change.

I don’t cook with Jameson any longer. Why?

Because it was easier to do it myself. Just simple tasks
like making a sandwich are so in depth. He will start out by saying. “Where’s
the bread?” Then he moves on to, “Where’s the peanut butter?” “And the jelly?”
“How much peanut butter do you use?” “How much jelly?” “Do you put peanut
butter on both sides?” “Do you cut it in half?” “Wait, do you toast the bread
first?”

Do you see what I mean? It’s exhausting.

Who knew making a peanut butter sandwich was a ten-step
process.

When everyone sat down to eat, I felt like a load had
been lifted from my shoulders, or maybe it was that I wasn’t on my feet with my
balloon belly sticking out.

Kyle, Jameson’s crew chief, and his girlfriend Elle, who
in not so many words called me fat earlier today, came over. Justin and Tyler
showed up as well with their girlfriends, who seemed nice enough and did not
call me fat. They said I was glowing and beautiful and I wanted to kiss them
but didn’t. I enjoyed Justin’s girlfriend, Ami, and enjoyed talking pregnancy
with her for a while as she just found out she was expecting on Thanksgiving.

Van, our body guard, came over, which made me happy. I
felt like he was part of our family now and I wanted him to know he was. Since
the incident with Darrin last fall, Van wasn’t more than a mile away from us at
all times—it was reassuring.

Even though I was a little nervous about tonight, I loved
having everyone together. I couldn’t remember the last time our entire family
and friends were together, under the same roof—aside from the wedding. Any time
you had family together it could be a good evening or a
very
bad evening
where someone either got hurt, or the cops are called. I wouldn’t rule either
one out just yet—it was still early.