The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (3 page)

After collecting more food, I sat back down beside
Spencer. On the other side was Jameson with Logan across from me.

“What did you say, Spencer?” Nancy asked, her eyes
glancing around the table apprehensively.

I had no idea what they were talking about.

“I told him to suck my dick. I wasn’t helping him.”
Spencer replied. “It was a dumb idea from the start—he had no idea what he was
talking about.”

Nancy gasped in horror and covered Lane’s ears as he was
silently building his mashed potato volcano, his brow creased with
determination.

“I didn’t mom. I didn’t do it.” Jameson told her in
defense holding his arms in the air as if in capitulation. She looked somewhat
relieved. “I told him to fuck off.” he finished.

There was another gasp from Nancy as she, once again,
covered Lane’s ears. He must have heard though because his next move was
holding out his hand to Jameson who handed over another dollar bill without
thinking.

Spencer replied with something else and nudged my
shoulder. I couldn’t understand him. There was so much goddamn food in his
mouth, so I just shrugged. He popped another deviled egg in his mouth laughing.

“Well this is a lovely meal, Sway.” Jimi, Jameson’s dad,
said with a smirk. “It’s a nice table too.”

I knew instantly where he was going with that statement
as did my over-reactive quick tempered husband.

Jameson, who had been building his own mash potato
volcano, looked at his dad next to him. “What the fu—” he stopped when he
realized Lane was waiting for the slip. “
...
what
did you say?”

“Darn it.” Lane laughed.

“I said this is a
nice
table you guys have.”
Jimi’s voice laced with innuendo.

Jameson glanced over at me with suspicious eyes. “You
...
were they
...
no
...
” his eyes flickered back to Jimi who was
grinning widely. “You have to be fucking kidding me!” he threw his wallet at
Lane and stalked away. “This is fucking bullshit!”

“What’s he so mad about?” Emma finally realized we were
all gaping at Jimi and Nancy, who had long since turned a bright shade of red.

“Way to go, Jimi.” Charlie praised patting his back.

“What are they talking about?” Lucas asked. He’d been
just as clueless as Emma that we had just found out that Jimi and Nancy did the
horizontal mambo on our dining room table since we humped on theirs once.

“Jameson’s mad because they did—” Logan began.

In a complete shit move, I kicked Logan under the table
to get him to shut up. Yep, I resorted back to schoolyard survival with a
six-year old. When he cried, I felt like a complete asshole
...
until he cackled and ran into the family
room where Jameson had disappeared.

I had my reasoning for kicking Logan, the last thing we
needed was for Lane to start asking questions. Lane was still innocent. Give
him a few years and Spencer would surely destroy that, but I refused to do it
myself.

Once dinner was done and we’d moved on from the
conversations of Nancy and Jimi on our table, Jameson returned to the kitchen.
He’d been holed up in the family room playing video games with Lane and Justin
and avoiding everyone else.

“You have some serious making up to do.” He said to me
lifting my chin so he could press a kiss on my lips.

“Yes, yes, making up
...
”
I placed the last plate in the dishwasher before closing the lid shut. “lots of
making up.”

“That’s right.” He nodded walking back into the family
room where Van was wrestling with the twins.

Van came in a few minutes later, breathless from the
exertion. “Thanks so much for dinner Ms. Sway.” He threw an arm around my
shoulder. “You sure can throw down a meal.” His other hand rubbed his belly
leisurely. “I may need to move in now.”

“Thanks Van, did you get enough to eat?” Alley and I put
the final touches on the desert buffet we’d created on the center island.

“Yes, definitely
...
”
his gaze shifted as Alley carried the brownies over. “wow
...
look at that.” His eyes widened as he took
in the sugar insanity.

Van quickly gathered a few brownies and other treats
before making his way into the movie room.

Jameson snuck back into the kitchen, wrapping his arms
around my waist and pulled me outside with him.

“Now,” his lips captured mine. “for that making up you
have to do
...
” The cool winter air mixed
with his warmth breath causing me to shiver as I melted into him.

Before Jameson could hold me to the making up, Charlie
and Jimi stepped outside onto the patio with us, laughing like Cheech and Chong
in the movie
Up in Smoke
. I was almost positive that was the movie
playing in the movie room now as I thought about it.

“What’s wrong with them?” Jameson asked in a very
melodramatic way running his hands through his hair stepping away from me.

I watched them for a moment and knew something was wrong.

“I have no clue.” Something was bizarre about the way
they were acting.

Frustrated, Jameson threw his hands up in the air. “I’m
not
...
there’s,” he seemed to search for
his words for a moment. “Something wrong with them. They don’t usually act this
way.”

“They’re on something.” I deduced after Charlie chuckled
once, his pupils dilated to the point you couldn’t see the chocolate of his
irises.

“Oh my god,” Jameson balked examining his dad’s
behavior—who was currently peeing on the side of our house while Charlie
laughed hysterically.

“They’re definitely on something.” Was my final
assessment too.

“What though?”

“Jimi, were you out here with Charlie earlier tonight?” I
asked him after he put his junk away. I had no desire to see my father-in-law’s
camshaft.

“Yep!” Jimi replied with a grin slinging his arm around
Charlie.

At the same exact moment, they both turned to look at one
of our palm trees as though it said their name.

“Oh my—”

Jameson groaned. “They’re fucking high, aren’t they?”

“Appears that way,” I answered with a giggle of my own.
This was funny to me.

“Hey,” Charlie turned to Jimi. “Do you think there’s any
of that dip left?” he asked as Jimi helped him up the steps leading into the
kitchen.

Jameson shook his head. “Could this night get any worse?
I told you this was a bad idea, Sway.”

“Jameson.”

He turned sharply on his heel. “Don’t Jameson me and
don’t give me that face.” He told me matter-of-factly. “Listen to me next
time.”

“Jameson, shut up.” I shook my head slowly walking over
to the patio table to pick up the beer bottles scattered around.

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“I just did.”

“Well
...
don’t”

“Are we really going to argue about this?” I spun around
on my own heel to face him.

“Yes,” he began and then stopped when I looked up at him.
“I’m going to get a beer.” He mumbled retreating.

He was right—this was a bad idea, maybe even a horrible
idea. So far this evening Logan spilled fruit punch on our living room floor.
Aiden had knocked over an entire carton of milk in the kitchen. Jimi and Nancy
had, at some point, had sex on our table. Spencer told Jameson to suck his dick,
twice. Charlie and Jimi were high and laughing while currently enjoying the
deserts and Lane was making money off everyone and their potty mouths.

When I walked back into the kitchen where Alley, Spencer,
and Jameson were standing, I was met with Jimi and Charlie laughing
uncontrollably.

“This is too funny,” Alley reached for her camera on the
counter. “I have to get some pictures.”

Jameson left the room while Alley took pictures. I had half
a mind to lock myself in the bathroom for the rest of the night.

Another hour later, Jameson finally returned with an
armful of beer cans that I assumed he, Justin, and Tommy had drunk. He shuffled
through the kitchen, placing the beer cans in the recycling can, his shoulders
slumped forward and a set scowl on his face, grumbling something no one could
understood. The French doors leading out to the patio slammed behind him.

“What’s his problem?” Spencer asked walking in with
Aiden.

“He just doesn’t like you guys
...
” I shrugged. “that’s all.”

“Did you know Dana is their neighbor?” Emma asked Alley,
giggling. Just then, Jameson walked back inside, his cheeks flushed from the
cool air or his annoyance.

“No shit?” Spencer laughed. “That’s awesome.”

“Fuck off.” Jameson told him and walked upstairs.

“Geez, what the hell is his problem?” Emma balked.

It was only Christmas Eve. Just imagine tomorrow with all
of us and presents involved. It may have been too much but it’d been a while
since I laughed this much.

Laying there in bed, I realized that I might have over
done the whole “up on my feet” thing these last few days because
now
, as
I laid there, I was feeling it. My back was aching, I was cramping, my legs
hurt and I had to pee, badly.

From around twenty weeks pregnant, I’d been on restricted
bed-rest due to pre-term labor. Being up on my feet wasn’t exactly what was
allowed.

“Jameson
...
” I
gently tried to push him off so I could go to the bathroom.

He wasn’t budging.

“Jameson, if you don’t get the hell off me I will piss
myself in this bed. And not only is that gross, but you will then be lying in
piss, so GET OFF!” I yelled trying to push him off again.

“Noooo
...
mom. It’s
not my turn to wear the bunny suit
...
”

What does he dream about?

I pushed him again.

“Grrr
...
”

Did he just growl at me?

Suddenly, kneeing him in his timing gears was looking
tempting as the adorable flailing spaz started kicking me in my bladder. If you
don’t know what timing gears are, they are gears bolted directly to the
camshaft. And the camshaft, well, that was my word for a penis.

“JAMESON!” I yelled feeling the vibrations of my voice. I
should feel bad that I just yelled at him but seriously, he was lying
practically on top of me. I was eight months pregnant and have a baby pushing
on my bladder. I understood he was tired after the Christmas Eve we had and we
had to be at his parent’s early in the morning, but damn it, I needed to pee!

“Grr
...
need
...
sleeeppppeee.” He mumbled as he rolled
away.

Once he rolled off, I didn’t have time to laugh at him. I
was now starting to dribble pee down my thighs as I got out of bed.

As soon as I stood, I peed all over the carpet.

Shit that’s just embarrassing
.

“Damn you Jameson
...
”

If he would have let me out of bed when I needed to go,
this wouldn’t have happened.

I also couldn’t understand why pregnancy was so
disgusting?

I mean, so far I haven’t seen anything good about it.
People say pregnancy is beautiful but I think that is just a crock of shit. My ass
was huge. My ankles looked like they belonged to shamoo or one of his distant
relatives and I couldn’t sleep. And I was pretty sure I changed my underwear at
least four times a day from the lack of bladder control. And let’s not forget
about the lack of sex this last week because I honestly felt too damn fat to be
even remotely interested in Jameson’s camshaft anywhere near my crankcase.
After all, that camshaft is the reason I have all these problems. I used to be
attached to him but now
...
I wanted to
detach
him.

While walking into the bathroom, I was momentarily
distracted by the fact that my thighs were rubbing together. Something I never
noticed until now and yet another dislike to add to my “growing list”.

Jameson must have woke up to my grumbling, which I
thought was internal but apparently, once again, was not.

“Sway, why did you pee on the floor?” He asked wiping his
eyes to focus on me.

I hadn’t realized what time it was but I glanced at the
clock and saw that it was only four am.

“Because you’re an asshole and wouldn’t get off me.” I
snapped and waddled to the bathroom with a towel between my legs, I slammed
door behind me hoping to wake him up.

He chuckled.
My husband
chuckled at my
misery.

Jerk
.

When I sat down on the toilet, more pee came out, and
more and more. It was an endless flow of fluid, so I thought. I wondered if I
had any body fluids left.

When I thought I was done, I started to get up. When I
stood, a gush came out but this time it appeared to be tinted pink.

Confused about this, I reached for the pregnancy book on
the back of the toilet and skimmed through the pages. I found what I needed
since Emma had tabbed the pages of labor for me.

That’s when I went through the checklist for the signs of
labor.

Back ache
...
check.

Cramps
...
check.

Discharge
...
check.

Sudden gush of fluids
...
double
check.

Scared shitless
...
triple
check.

Standing there reading these signs of labor, I realized I
was now standing in yet another puddle of water and scared shitless.

This can’t be happening.

“Oh Jameson,” I yelled from the bathroom as though I was
calling a dog in from outside.

He didn’t answer.

If he thought he was sleeping through this, he was out of
his damn mind. This was one shit storm I wasn’t handling alone.