Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (20 page)

Completely irrational foolish break your heart logic, but it was mine. So for now, I was going to enjoy my three weeks of friends with benefits and put my emotions aside.

That was my plan. Not that it would turn out well but it was my plan.

Once we pulled into the pit-entrance, the race weekend was in full swing and Jameson was now in race mode.

It might not have been the best timing but I decided to try to make him see Emma’s side. I didn’t want him going into practice upset, as he tends to get a little hasty out there if his mood is off.

“Jameson, you should apologize to Emma and Aiden.” I suggested looking at the ten text messages I had from Emma apologizing for bringing me into the argument.

“I will
not
apologize to Aiden. I
will
apologize to Emma, when she calms down, but Aiden,” he shook his head. “He had it coming. I asked him repeatedly if anything was going on and he said no.” he turned his head to look at me. “That’s what he gets for not being honest with me in the beginning.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe he was afraid to tell you?” I pointed out in the form of a question.

“Oh please, spare me the bullshit. He’s an adult not a five-year old! If he has something to say, he should just say it.”

“You can be scary when you want to be and Spencer
...
well, there are no words for Spencer. I don’t blame them for not wanting to tell you guys.”

He looked at me with a shocked expression, his brow raised. “You’re taking their side in this?”

“I’m just saying you should be nicer to them about this.”

“I will not. If Aiden has a problem with me then fine, he can come talk to me about it.” Jameson showed his credentials to the NASCAR officials and then pulled through the gate when she waved him by. “I’m not apologizing.”

Pulling up to the motor coach in the driver’s compound, sure enough poor Aiden was sporting another new black eye but he looked relieved to have everything out in the open. At least they wouldn’t have to sneak around. Jameson and I however, we still have to sneak around.

Last night, after the race car incident, I told Jameson my crankcase needed a day’s break. It was not only sore but I had a serious case of sticker burn that was making it a little difficult to sit today
or
walk for that matter. If you’ve ever had rug burn before, the result is similar.

I had a feeling this “days break” was also part of Jameson’s anger issues today, especially when his hand was sliding up the back of my shirt once we are in the motor coach, alone, in the bedroom.

He was supposed to be getting his race suit on for practice but his camshaft had other plans.

I slapped his hand away. “Jameson
...
no,”

He sighed bringing his lips to my collarbone, kissing along it. “Please, honey
...
I
need
you.” His voice was low and strained and was not helping my resolve one tiny bit.

“I’m sore,” I whined with a pouty lip.

“Too much align boring?” he raised an eyebrow while backing me up towards the queen-sized bed.

In case you’re wondering what the fuck align boring is, it’s a process that some do to an engine that involves taking a metal rod and pushing it through the crankcase repeatedly to make sure everything inside the crankcase was properly aligned.

“Yeah,”

“You know, align boring assures proper bearing alignment as well. With all that misalignment we took care of last night, maintenance is just as important. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know, but you’re camshaft has too much lift,” was my next attempt.

“Are you suffering from valve binding?”

“What in the hell is valve binding?”

“That’s when a camshaft has too much lift
...
” his hips pushed forward showing me just how much lift he had. “It opens the valve spring too far creating
valve binding
.”

I pushed against him trying to get away. “There’s something wrong with you.” I laughed once but then gained control over my expression and crankcase who was back to making justifications the rest of me couldn’t play along with today.

“I just need a day. My ass hurts and my crankcase feels like I let the entire goddamn state of North Carolina align bore me.”

Jameson growled pushing me down on the bed, my legs automatically spread. “I will be the
only
one doing any align boring when it comes to your crankcase
...
only
me.” His arms wrapped under and over my shoulders, pulling me snug against his hips.

Of course, he was already ready and my will power was crumbling for his lift and those damn justifications.

“Hello Mr. Possessive.” I chuckled trying to squirm away.

“I’m not apologizing for that either.” His grip tightened. “You will only be my friend with benefits, no one else.”

“Does that rule apply to you too?”

Oh god, shut up!

Despite this, he laughed against my neck. “Of course it does,” Jameson pushed his hips against mine revealing his excitement. “Now let’s see about this valve binding problem you have.”

“Jameson,” I tried again to push against his chest. “I’m serious I need a break.”

Pressing his hips against mine one last time, he let out a deep sigh before rolling away. “Damn it,”

Once he was dressed, we made our way to the garage where Jameson forgot about me turning him down. Instead, he was focused on the race car now and the job he has to do.

Well until Nancy approaches us. Chipper as always, she bounced into the garage area, her rusty hair pulled back under her Simplex hat.

“Oh Sway,” She breathed reaching for me. “You’re here again.”

“Yeah, I’m going home after Sonoma.” I pulled away and handed her the posters Jameson signed earlier this morning. “Just taking a summer break after college,”

Jameson walked over to sign a few die-cast cars for the Children’s Hospital Nancy brought with her.

“Jameson,” Nancy said sternly, her green eyes glaring. “Now, I don’t ask a lot from you at home because you’re rarely there but I
expect
you to respect our home while you’re living in it.” She poked his chest with a black sharpie. “I expect you to clean up your bedroom and fix the closet. What the hell happened in there? It looks like a gang bang took place.” Nancy stood there waiting for an answer.

Rubbing the spot his mother poked, Jameson let out a loud laugh as my cheeks began to heat rapidly. “Well a “
gang bang
” implies a group of people. There was only two.” He replied still signing the various items Nancy was handing him.

I giggled when he said “gang bang” because he resorted to air quotes to get his point across.

“Well,” Nancy actually looked somewhat relieved that her son didn’t have a gangbang in her house. “just clean it up.”

Once she walked away, Jameson started laughing walking back over to his car to get ready for his first practice session.

This weekend they were racing at Pocono Raceway in Long Pond Pennsylvania. It was a two and half-mile track with three turns, each with its own degree of banking, making the set-up tricky at times. Most people call it the superspeedway that drives like a road course. Jameson liked the track but it wasn’t his favorite. He preferred the mile and half and the short tracks saying it reminded him of his dirt track days growing up.

I sat on the pit box with Kyle when Jameson went out for practice listening to the in-car audio.

“You copy bud?” Kyle asked when Jameson made it onto the track.

“Yep,” Jameson confirmed while the radio crackled.

God I love that radio voice! It’s like the damn whispering thing he does
...
You need help Sway. Maybe even therapy when you get home.

“All right Aiden—he’s all yours.” Kyle said. “Let me know how the car feels bud.”

The first few laps were quiet while Aiden and Jameson talked back and forth guiding him through any traffic that was out there. They seemed better.

Jameson and Aiden had been friends for the past few years now—I’d hoped that something like this didn’t get in the way of their friendship and so far, it didn’t seem like it was going to. That’s the cool thing about men other than the fact they get to stand to pee. Once they express their anger for someone and get what they need off their chest, they seem to forget all about what went down. Women should take some pointers from them.

I watched as Jameson got loose in turn three, the car jerked sideways and brushed the wall, Kyle cringed beside me. “Damn it.”

“Brushed the wall, turn three.” Aiden announced. “No damage.”

“Looks like you got your hands full there.” Kyle looked over the lap times on the computer. “What’s the car doing?”

Jameson was quiet for a moment and then came on. “I’m all over the fucking place. I can’t keep the damn thing straight. I can’t drive in as hard in three but I can go anywhere I want in the other turns.”

“Bring it in.” Kyle told him. “We’re gonna put it on the scales and change the springs.”

After another two laps, Jameson brought the car in the garage and the crew went to work on the adjustments.

Lounging around in the garage area, he talked with Tony, the tire specialist, for a few moments. He thought something felt off about the tires they were using but Tony assured him they were the same.

Jameson was involved in all aspects of the car. That stemmed from Jimi. Growing up Jimi made it clear Jameson couldn’t just drive the car. He had to understand the cars, be able to build them and fix them when needed. In a way, that’s what made Jameson the type of driver he was today.

Most drivers just drove these days but Jameson could do just about anything to a race car and there wasn’t anything he couldn’t drive the wheels off. His understanding for how everything worked together and his ability made for a lethal combination on the track.

While I waited for him to finish-up explaining the handling of the car to Kyle and Mason, Alley walked into the garage, her heels clicking against the concrete.

“Is he done yet?” she asked annoyed. She looked pissed.

“I think he will be in a minute, why?” I leaned back against the wall trying to appear calm.

She glared towards Jameson. “I just have a bone to pick with him.” She turned towards me. “When did you get here?”

Shit, don’t panic and be sneaky.

“Oh
...
I never left.” I tried to act all nonchalant about it so she wouldn’t catch on but I still hadn’t improved on being sneaky. “I traveled with Jameson from Charlotte.”

By the grace of god, Jameson walked over right about the time she was starting to figure it out.

“You’re an asshole!” Alley yelled pushing him into the wall beside me.

Jameson smirked steadying himself by reaching for me. “I have
no
idea what you’re talking about.” He put his arms around my shoulders wrapping around my chest and then used me as some sort of defense mechanism against the “Alley wrath” as he frequently called it.