Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (66 page)

“Ryan?”

“He drives the water truck for us. You’ll meet him. Which reminds me, when do you come home?”

“My lease is up next week so I’m going to move all my stuff during the week and then I’ll be out.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, Tommy said he’d help. He comes back from Attica on Monday.” I reached across the table to dip my shrimp in the cocktail sauce next to Mallory. “The last time Tommy helped me move though, he drank beer while I moved boxes.”

“How’s that firecracker doing?”

I laughed. “It’s fire crotch Mal, not
firecracker
.”

“Right—forgot,” she giggled.

Mallory was about as green as grass when it came to sex. Mentally, you would swear she was a virgin but her and Bryce had been married for the last three years so I hoped she wasn’t still a virgin. You never know though.

“How’s Jameson these days?”

“He seems okay but you know Jameson
...
he gets so diligently focused on racing he never bothers to take care of himself.”

“I don’t know him all that
well
but I definitely saw that side of him.” Her soft caramel eyes looked over at me. “So are you two
...
” her voice trailed off insinuatingly.

“Oh no,” I waved my arms around, knocked my beer on her and then started giggling when beer came out my nose. Coughing, I answered with a choked out, “Friends.”

Mallory laughed as she placed a handful of napkins in her lap to soak up the beer.

“Sweetie you and him have never been
just
friends.”

“That obvious?”
I sighed in admission.

I was lying to everyone around me for so long that I had no feelings for him, I almost believed myself.

“It took me a while to figure it out but sometime toward the end of your senior year I uh
...
well
...
you two kissing after a race.” I racked my brain trying to think of the specifics she was referring to but I couldn’t, so she went on sensing my confusion. “After the Northern Sprint Tour
...
he won. Anyhow, I walked into the pits to close up the concession because I wasn’t sure if you had already left when I saw you guys in the booth. He had you against the wall
...
” her cheeks tinted pink as her eyebrows rose in question. This was her silently pleading with me to remember so her virgin mentality didn’t have to continue.

“Oh
...
that.” I remember all right. That was the night his hands slipped up my shirt and my hands, well they dipped somewhere else. The interesting part about Jameson and me was we
always
stopped. I don’t know why, but we did. Believe me when I tell you, I did not want to. There are so many times—I wanted to continue. I wanted so badly to feel his body against me in the most intimate ways. Really though, I wanted to fuck the poor boy senseless.

“So what’s with you two then?”

“I honestly don’t know.” I told her honestly. “When we’re together, we can’t keep our hands to ourselves. When we’re apart, he’s the best friend I could ever ask for, always has been.”

Cheering down by the bar halted our conversations. Driver introductions were going on for the Winston Open. One of the announcers in the booth, Neil, talked about Jameson while they showed the fans applauding him during introductions. “Jameson has an amazing feel for grip, always has. He can feel the changes to the track and car that ordinarily go undetermined by other drivers. That’s where his team benefits.” Neil commended. “For only being his second season in stock cars, you better believe this kid has more to offer.”

The broadcasters interviewed Darrin Torres, driver of the No. 14, first about the recent run-in at Richmond. His comments were the same each week. “It’s hard to respect a guy like Jameson on the track. He has no concern for anyone else.”

I wanted to punch this Darrin fucker, having never heard the name until this year; I was not impressed with him.

They interviewed Jameson right after that. I smiled so widely that I thought my cheeks were going to stay that way.

“Wow,” Mallory gasped at the television, then back to me with a dazed expression. “He’s hot!”

“Tell me about it.”

“He’s definitely not the same rusty haired little boy, is he?”

“Nope,” My eyes glued to the screen as he spoke to the reporter.

“This is your first Winston Open
...
do you think you can get a good starting spot?” he asked Jameson. A group of girls, Amanda and Erica included, whistled when they focused on his face.

Jameson chuckled and leaned against his car on the grid. Spencer handed him a bottle of water before he answered.

“I think we can get a good spot. My Simplex Ford has been great all through practice runs so
...
I can’t imagine it won’t be now.” He flashed a smile.

“With this being a “have at it” race, how do you think the rival with Darrin will pan out?”

Jameson’s body visibly tensed. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Have you guys talked since Richmond?”

“It’s hard to talk to him,” Jameson said disdainfully. “He doesn’t respect anyone around him.”

It never changed for Jameson, there was always someone trying to push him to the breaking point.

Why?

Because he is talented—they saw him as a threat and just like any animal, which everyone is whether you want to admit it or not, what do we do when threatened? We attack fighting for survival.

That’s exactly what Darrin was doing. He was threatened by Jameson, as he should be.

Here Jameson was a twenty-two year old kid with only a few years of stock car racing under his belt and dominating the series as a rookie. Of course, he felt threatened.

Jameson dominated the NASCAR Winston Open and the Winston that night, winning the first two segments and with stellar pit strategy, he came out first for the third and final segment after the invert.

Darrin fought with Bobby and Tate for the first few laps, allowing Jameson to pull away to a 2-second lead but with three laps to go, Darrin and Bobby had caught Jameson. The three of them battled the last lap taking corners three wide at times (unheard of I might add). You don’t take the turns at Charlotte three wide, you just don’t. Bobby lifted and darted inside down on the line behind Jameson but Darrin refused to. They bumped—they banged, and bounced off one another until they crossed the line sideways together with Jameson taking the win, but with a destroyed car. The bar was once again in an uproar of cheering and booing.

They definitely put on one hell of a Winston race. Men throughout the bar were cheering and fist pumping each other; women were clapping, the bartenders were nodding in approval—it was a good race and exactly what the fans wanted.

Their cars came to rest on the front stretch in front of the main grandstands where they both got out of their cars and the heated discussion continued, as did the bedlam from the fans. Those fans paid to see a Saturday night race and they got one, with the addition of a brawl.

Darrin shoved Jameson (wrong move by the way), Jameson shoved him and then they were struggling against officials to get at each other. By now, Jameson had tossed his gloves and helmet aside, as did Darrin. His enraged glower at Darrin said it all. They were yelling at one another while the officials fought to keep them apart. With the announcers from the broadcasting station speaking, you couldn’t hear what they were saying but I recognized a few choice words like “Fuck” and “Asshole” or “Motherfucker” which was a standard selection of words when Jameson was upset.

They cut to commercial, so I immediately sent a text to Emma.

He’s going to get himself suspended!

It took her a moment but she finally responded.

I know. NASCAR is calling them both to the hauler.

When the broadcasting station came back on, they
panned
to Jameson’s car making its way to victory lane as Darrin trudged toward the NASCAR hauler surrounded by officials and crewmembers.

“Darrin,” the reporter swarmed him. “Can you tell us what happened there on the last lap?”

“We both wanted the win. It’s a big payout and a race where you let go. I wanted to win so I took an opening where I could.” He replied with a shrug of his shoulders casually.

“What was the interaction there when you two came to rest there at the end?”

Darrin laughed with intent.

“He flaunts his talent out there like a brat with a trust fund.” He told the reporter and began walking again. “There’s a reason why he’s called “Rowdy Riley”. He’s out of control.”

Amazed that asshole suggested that was all Jameson, left me angry as they shot to the view of Jameson now in victory lane pulling himself from the car once again. If you thought this was all by pure luck that they suddenly catch the driver getting out of his car, it’s not. That’s all planned by the broadcasting stations. The driver gets the cue to get out of the car. If he doesn’t listen, he has to do it all over again.

Crossing between frustration, outraged and the thrill from the win, he pulled himself from the car. His eyes were hard, but he smiled despite the scrap he had just been in.

Without a moments rest, the reporters were there.

“How does it feel to win your first Winston race?”

Jameson chuckled sweeping a towel over his face. “I don’t think it’s sunk it yet.” He said of the win. “I’m really excited.” I knew he was excited for the win, but I knew him well enough to know the win wasn’t what he was thinking about.

“A millionaire now, huh?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the payout, right?” he looked around with a grin as the crowd cheered behind him. “Guess so
...
”

God did I want to be there to celebrate with them.

“What happened there after the race?”

“I feel bad we tore up the car there but it was racing.” He told him. “It’s a big deal to win this race. We’ve been fortunate for a new team that we have the best cars around. These fans wanted a show, they got that.”

“Was that planned?”

“No, I never plan to destroy my race car like that.” He said. “Tempers flare at these races. We both wanted the win.”

“Darrin said you flaunt your talent like a kid with a trust fund.” The reporter provoked.

Refusing to make eye contact with the camera, his head shook in a slow vexed movement. “He’s just pissed I’m one step ahead of him out there.” Jameson bit. “Every move he makes, I’ve already seen it and predicted what he’ll do.” He turned after that and faced his crew, evidently done with the interview. Couldn’t blame him, they were only setting him up.

The reporter started to sign off when he saw Jameson take the microphone from him. “I forgot to say one thing,” he smiled at the reporter. “I need to say hello to my best friend back home who just graduated college tonight. Congratulations Sway
...
this win is about fans and you’ve been my biggest one, thank you!” he winked at the camera and then turned back around to speak with the line-up of reporters waiting for their turn.

Mallory turned to me. “That was intense!”

I gasped. “You’re telling me.”

“Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“With NASCAR?”

“Yeah,”

“Oh yeah, they don’t like that sort of thing. Emma said he’s been summoned to the hauler already.” Before Fox Sports went to another commercial, they caught up with Jimi heading toward the NASCAR hauler himself.

“Looks like Jameson got a little fired up at the end there with Darrin.” They hinted probing.

“You can’t expect him not to get fired up like that. He’s passionate about what he loves.” Jimi told them. “For the most part I think he’s handling it well considering the way he’s provoked.”

“So you feel he’s being provoked by Darrin?”

“Without a doubt,” Jimi said matter-of-factly. “Each week it’s a different track but the same thing with Darrin
...
but you have to understand Jameson has been in this game since he was four. There have been times he’s pushed to his limit and times he doesn’t handle it in the best way. He’s a racer. At times, we don’t
think
before we react.”

Roundy Round – Jameson

I had just won the Winston. I was supposed to be happy. But no, fuck
no,
there I was sitting in the NASCAR hauler defending my actions.

“This is your warning Jameson.” Gordon
said,
his voice hard but controlled. “I don’t want to ever see something like that again.”

“You should be having this conversation with Torres. He started that shit coming out of turn four!” I shot back slowly rising to my feet.

Once back at my hauler, I forgot all about the fact I just won the race, against all the All-Stars in the series.