Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (27 page)

Darrin laughed. “I’m
sure I could make yours scream in one way or another. Is that what you want?”
his eyes taunted. “Or are you going to ignore me then too? You really should
just walk away.”

“I tried to walk away
from you but you think you have something to prove.”

“I do
...
that you’re nothing.”

“You have a lot of
fucking nerve showing your face here after Pocono.” Jameson shouted pointing
toward Darrin. He was losing his cool demeanor and ready to fight.

“Jameson, stop!” I
slammed my hands against his shoulders trying to make him see this wasn’t worth
it, but was it?

All I saw though was
his murderous gaze trained on Darrin. It was like I wasn’t standing there. None
of us were, in his eyes.

“You should listen to
your girl for once.”

“Leave her out of it.”

“Oh I think she needs
to be in it. After all, you brought mine into it.”

“Stay away from her.”
His voice lowered, the same menacing, warning tone it had that night in the bar
in May; threatening and explosive. “Go ahead take your best fucking shot.”
Jameson pushed past Justin and Tommy to stand face to face with Darrin. “Or can
you not fight without your car?”

“I never liked you
Riley,” Darrin said conversationally, his eyes watchful of the crowd gathering,
drinking in every flicker of emotion registered on Jameson who remained cold
and impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Even back when we raced
USAC, I never liked you. Just because your dad is a legend, you think you’re
hot shit out there.”

“Jealous?” Jameson
snorted.

Darrin took a quick
step forward, his eyes flaring at the taunting but remained controlled.

“She sure is pretty.”
Darrin winked toward me.

You could actually feel
the change in Jameson between his stance and breathing. The heat of his anger
scorched my hand on his wrist.

“Leave her alone.”
Jameson’s control was nearly gone.

“Do you really think I
will leave you in any condition to stop me?”

Here’s the problem I
discovered when those words left Darrin’s mouth. He had the satisfaction of
knowing that he was getting to Jameson right then. And he had patience.
Something Jameson didn’t have.

It wasn’t like he was
thinking in that moment, no, he was far too engrossed in the confrontation now.

“You touch her and I
will kill you.” Jameson growled trying to control himself. “You can be sure of
that.”

Van’s self-reserved
eyes met Darrin. They exchanged a look and then focused on Jameson. To anyone
else, the glance was just a distant fleeting look but Jameson saw something
defined in the intensity behind him and stared at Van as if he said something
directly to him. But he said nothing. It was just a glance toward Darrin.

“I don’t think you have
it in you.” Darrin smarted off, focusing again on Jameson.

“You’re missing the
point asshole.”

“Am I?” Darrin
shrugged. “Enlighten me then rookie, what’s the point?”

“There will be no
version of this where you’re coming to come out ahead of me. Maybe you will get
the best of me, get to me when my guard is down. Maybe you’ll win
...
” Jameson stepped closer, his movement
warning and guarded at the same time. “But you can be goddamn sure that I will
come after you.” Jameson’s voice resonated ominously into the night air.

Tempers were flaring in
the blistering heat of the night and the heat between them seemed to be
providing
a suffocating
smog around us.

A familiar standoff,
one I’ve seen many times, began between him and Darrin.

Jameson’s eyes swept
over Darrin gauging a reaction he knew he’d have.

“That’s your plan?”

“No
...
” Jameson shook his head. “That’s not my
plan. I’m just letting you know
...
you
can try and test me
...
take what you think you
can
...
but you won’t get away
with it.”

Darrin looked toward
his buddies gathered, all of them showing amusement. “I think your—”

Jameson smiled a cold
bitter smile letting out a venomous cynical laugh. “You really think I give a
goddamn what you think of me?” He asked, his jaw tightened, his eyes throwing
daggers toward Darrin. “You know what
...
fuck
you,” he sniffed with a laugh. “Fuck you.”

Justin and Tommy
remained beside me. Both seemed ready to throw down, as did Van, with any
indication from Jameson. But they were giving him space to decide for himself.

Darrin lurched toward
him with a heavy step. “You should take it seriously.” He spat looking like he
was ready to strike. “I could end your career if I wanted!”

Jameson just stood
there like he wasn’t afraid. “Go for it.” His eyebrows rose coolly. “Come after
me and I assure you, you
will
regret it.”

I’m not sure how but
things seemed to get heated between everyone and before we knew it, guys were
shoving each other and Jameson was pushing me and Ami, who’d wrapped herself
around me like a monkey, back away.

“Go back to the hauler
and wait for me there.” He pushed us gently away.

“Jameson just—”

“Leave!” he screamed
toward us.

I wasn’t waiting around
and Van wasn’t letting us. He had Ami and me practically over his shoulder in a
second leaving Jameson alone with Darrin and Justin.

“We should call the
police or something.” Ami suggested, pacing the hauler when the boys didn’t
return within in a few minutes. We heard the fight along with the rest of the
pits who decided to scramble over there. We heard the yelling, Jameson and
Darrin’s voices the loudest, but we still couldn’t see anything.

“You two should just
stay here.” Van said sternly. “Jameson is fine.”

“We should just call
the police,” Ami got in his face. Well, she tried too. Van was nearly two feet
taller than her.

“No.” Van remained
calm. “We shouldn’t.”

It wasn’t but three
more minutes and Justin, Tommy and Jameson all came back, all sporting battle
wounds.

Jameson ignored
everyone and headed for the parking lot. “Come on Sway.” He reached for me
dragging me along. I waved a quick bye to everyone but the only one that seemed
to notice was Ami who offered a sympathetic wave.

“Jameson, maybe I
should drive us back.” We stopped short of his Mustang. “You’ve had a few
beers.”

“So what
...
you’re questioning me too?” he backed
against the car leaning into it.

“It’s not like that and
you know it.”

He said nothing so I
reached for him. His hand flung away from mine, his keys wrapped in his fist.
“Get in.”

Not only was he angry
but he’d had a few drinks and I knew this wasn’t good. “Jameson, just let me
drive.”

“No.” His voice faded
when the 428 big-block V-8 roared to life.

He said nothing to me
pressing a few buttons on the stereo as I buckled in preparing for my death. I
was sure I was about to die. The blue and red lights of his stereo lit up, a
staircase display of rising lights bounced with the base.

My seat vibrated with
the lean idol before he revved the engine once and took off, dirt and rocks
spraying out across the field as we took off for the highway.

Jameson didn’t listen
to the song he chose often but when he did, it was a direct reflection of his
mood. A slow base thumped, his head nodding to the kick. I didn’t recognize the
song but the rhythm seemed just as dark as his mood.

His window was cracked.
Each passing car detangled another loop of his hair resulting in a wild mess.
His chin tucked toward his chest, his eyes scowled into the darkness. Shifted
slightly toward the door, his right hand hung over the steering wheel, his left
arm rested on the edge of the door panel as he ran his knuckles slowly across
her lower lip and jaw, contemplating. I shouldn’t have been surprised by his
mood. I knew it was coming.

I may have mentioned
this before, or not, but Jameson had this 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang that I was
sure was my only competition in his life. He’d originally purchased the car
when he was sixteen. When hauling around a sprint car each weekend didn’t work
well for the Mustang, he sold it to Jimi and bought a Ford diesel truck that
could haul his trailer and the sprint car.

When he signed with
Simplex in the Winston Cup series, he bought his car back from Jimi.

So on the way back to
Darlington that night, while driving that GT500, another, newer Mustang crossed
the centerline and revved up beside us on the two-lane highway. He was taunting
Jameson and Jameson knew it.

Jameson, humming with
aggression from Darrin, shook his head and rolled it to the side to glance at
me.
“Really?”

“Just ignore him,” was
my attempt to calm him down.

Did he do that?

Sure, he tried. But
he’s a race car driver.
Me
and the rest of society
shouldn’t expect too much.

Jameson revved forward
and my head snapped back against the seat as the torque jolted me.

The car darted back
behind us when another approaching car came around the bend.

Once again, the car
came right back, their headlights shining through the back window. 
Jameson’s dark menacing gaze lifted to the review mirror, his jaw clenched
anticipating.

“Jameson.” I slapped
his shoulder. “Knock it off. I just want to get to bed and preferably not on
the side of the road.”

There, I voiced my
concerns about being road kill and being tired. Now he knew.

He said nothing. His
gaze fixated on the road. The glow from the headlights lit up the dark weaving
highway.

I’d never been in a
real car chase before. This was similar, right?

When Jameson slammed
the car in fourth and my stomach met my heart, I knew for sure it was no longer
a car chase and maybe just on my way to road kill.

Engines roared, the
only sounds besides our heavy breathing when Jameson said, “Why does everyone
fucking test me?” By the gruff question, he wasn’t looking for a response.

The car beside us
lurched forward again but this time kept speed. And before long, was pulling
away.

What do you think race
car driver in the car with me did?

Before long, I was
gripping my seat with my eyes screwed shut. I couldn’t watch. Not only was the
road winding and sharp, but I also had this notion that if I didn’t see my
death approaching, I wouldn’t feel it. What a crazy fucking notion that was.

“If he hits my car,”
Jameson’s voice forced my eyes open. “I will fuck him up.”

“Jameson?” The
overgrown grass and trees were flying by so quickly I thought we’d make it to
Darlington in minutes. And I was starting to get car sick.
Really
car sick.

“I’m serious.”

“Jameson?”

“This guy is a fucking
douche.”

“Jameson?”

His jaw clenched. He said
nothing so I tried again.

“Jameson, I’m gonna get
sick!” I screamed covering my mouth.

I’d never seen him slam
on the brakes and open my door that fast before.

And then I threw up in
the ditch.

Turns out, I wasn’t car
chase material, I just wasn’t.

He helped me get
cleaned up, offered a bottle of water and then sat along the edge of the ditch
facing the road.

The passenger door
remained opened binging every few seconds.

“Jameson, I know you’re
upset but I hate seeing you like this. I feel it when you’re like this.”

His eyes snapped to
mine, flashing like lighting, and I knew I said the wrong thing. I meant for it
to sound like I felt for him not that I was placing the blame upon him.

“I don’t want you to
feel that way!” he shouted, the quiet lost as his temper flared. He looked
panicked, and guilty, and
...
angry
. “I don’t want you
around this shit!”

I didn’t know what to
do. Jameson’s temper wasn’t something to mess with so I got inside the car.

As I attempted to close
the door and leave him out there, his hand shot out pushing it back open. I
didn’t look at him, angry that I was nearly road kill and angry that I couldn’t
talk to him and actually get through to him. Not to mention he not only put our
lives at risk, but that of our innocent child.

“Oh goddamn it. I’m
sorry!” he shouted kicking at the rocks in the ditch. “I don’t know what to do
anymore!”

“Jameson
...
” I reached for him only to have him
shake me away standing at the rear of the car now.