Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (32 page)

Rolling over, I covered my aching head with a pillow.

No one else seemed to be in bed with me so I sprawled out, I could determine where I was later, sleep was far more important at that point.

My head was hurting too badly for this bright ass room.

I needed darkness, lots and lots of darkness.

Who uses white paint these days anyways? Aren’t people into the earthy tones?

Lying there, I noticed how incredibly sore I was below. I had a few concerning thoughts surrounding this.

For one, my ass seemed to be fairly tender and I had some strict rules about the rear access. I just hoped that wasn’t the reasoning behind this particular soreness otherwise Jameson was cut the fuck off.

With a heavy, but female sigh, I felt movement beside the bed so I turned over again to see Emma with her head resting on the bedside, staring at me.

“Nice tattoo, Sway.” She whispered with a smug smile, her black spiky hair looking similar to a porky pine.

“What tattoo?” I turned over on my back to realize it was the side of my ass that hurt. Not just any hurt, like
really
bad hurt, and burned.

Emma pointed south. “The one on your ass that says: Property of Riley,”

Yes, she used air quotes.

I groaned loudly. “Not again!”

How was I ever going to explain “crooked lips” and “Property of Riley” to someone if I didn’t end up with Jameson?

All the more reason to marry him.

Emma giggled and turned around to busy herself with a bottle of water.

I burst into laughter, and not just “ha ha” that’s funny, like piss yourself laughter. I barely had enough control over myself to speak at the sight of the back of her neck.

“What,” Emma asked hysterically. “What are you laughing at?”

Words couldn’t be formed. I just pointed to the back of her neck and fell back on the bed in a fit of uproarious laughter. I don’t think I’d laughed that hard since the time Jameson and I branded those cows back in high school and mistakenly branded Spencer as well.

My legs automatically crossed over to prevent such a thing.

Concerned, and for good reason, Emma ran around the room screaming searching for a mirror. Once she found one in the bathroom, I forgot all about my sore ass and laughed to the point that I actually had to squeeze my legs together to keep from peeing.

“OH MY GOD!” she screeched. “My dad is going to kill me!”

I threw my arms behind my head. “Nice tattoo, Emma.”

She ran out of the bathroom and jumped beside me, shaking the entire bed.

“Sway, what am I going to do?” she stared at me wide-eyed. “Maybe it’s a press on?” she considered and then proceeded to try to wipe it off. “Holy mother
...
” she winced, her eyes wider, if that was even possible. “That is
not
a press on.”

“I could have told you that.” I mumbled from under my pillow.

“At least yours is on your ass.” She kicked me. “How am I going to cover this up? I should have never cut my hair shorter the other day.”

“It’s not that bad.” I offered up. “Just get extensions put in your hair. Or wear turtlenecks.”

“It’s not that bad,” she repeated incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I shook my head under the pillow throwing my arms up in the air dramatically. I really just wanted to go back to sleep.

Emma ripped the pillow away glaring at me. “The back of my neck says: If you’re close enough to read this, you better be pullin’ my hair and spankin’ my ass!” her eyes bugged out. “It
is
that bad, Sway!” And yes, again she used air quotes. “It’s like some
...
horrible license plate frame saying you’d get from Trash R Us.”

“I think it’s funny.” I giggled once.

“You would.” She snarled.

I sat up in bed and punched her tiny shoulder. “That was uncalled for, take it back.”

She burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just
...
” she wailed louder. “I th-th-thought y-y-you h-h-had to be s-s-sober to get a t-t-tattoo?” she hiccupped. “Don’t you?”

“Most places,” I sighed. “But honey, what did you really expect from a tattoo parlor next to a bar?”

Rubbing her back softly, my poor little pixie Emma just cried louder crumbled in my lap.

At least her tattoo was nice writing, it was a pretty elegant script, not tacky like you’d think it would be by the phrase she inadvertently chose.

“Wake up you intoxicated whores!” Alley shouted as loud as possible, deliberately and then slammed the door behind her.

Both Emma and I groaned covering our ears.

She stepped inside the bedroom, dressed in a cream-colored business suit. “Nice to see you two among the living today,”

“Why do you look so nice today?” I asked still petting Emma who was cradled to my chest like a baby kangaroo,
still
crying.

“Bitch please—I
always
look nice.” Alley chided. “What’s the matter with her?” she motioned to Emma.

I gave Emma a comforting squeeze and kissed her Porky pine head. “She’s upset about her tattoo.” I whispered because talking at a normal volume even hurt my head.

“Well
she
should have thought about that before
she
drank four long island ice teas and helped you finish off a fifth of Tequila, now shouldn’t
she
?”

“Jesus Alley,” I balked. “Harsh much?
She
was only having a good time.”

“I don’t feel sorry any of you.
She
,” Alley pointed to Emma who was now staring at the two of us in our heated conversation. “should have said no when Spencer told her what to write,”

Emma snapped into action. “First of all,
she
is still in the goddamn room and
she
would like to be referred to in the first person. And second,” her gaze narrowed at Alley. “Spencer did what?”

At that point, I was actually worried about Emma. The vein in her forehead was bright blue and looked like it was about to burst at any moment. Just to be sure, I poked it with my index finger. The vein squished under my touch.

“Where is Spencer?” Emma glared slapping my hand away. “I’m gonna kill him.”

I sat back on the bed tossing the pillow over my face again.

Unfortunately, for me, my surprises for the morning were not over once I was lying there. It felt
awfully
breezy down below.

Reaching south, I checked out the situation and sure enough, I had no underwear on.

“Damn it.” I mumbled to myself.

Now what am I going to do for underwear?

Maybe Jameson had some in here, or I could just go commando because he’s apparently not here to realize that I’m not wearing any.

At least I had someone’s shirt on and a bra.

Then I thought,
where in the hell is Jameson?

Emma, planning Spencer’s execution, was scrambling around the room trying to find clothes to wear because she was only in Jaspers button down shirt and cowboy boots. Why she wore cowboy boots to sleep in is beyond me but clearly, we weren’t thinking last night judging by the tattoos.

“Where is Spencer?” Emma asked again pulling on her jeans she found near the door.

“I have no idea.” Alley answered, not looking up from her Blackberry. “The last time I saw them they were puking behind the hotel.”

“How do you
not
know where they are?” I asked confused. “Didn’t you stay here last night?”

What in the hell happened last night?

“No,” finally Alley looked up with an amused expression. “After Jameson puked in the Expedition for the second time, I booked this hotel room for you guys and I stayed at the Hilton down the street. I needed sleep and you guys
...
well I have no idea
what
went on after you came back here. Obviously sleep didn’t occur.” she looked over at the wall and took a double take, her mouth falling open.

Both Emma and I followed her gaze to the wall and gasped as well.

And there, on the
very
white wall was a
very
large
...
dick, spray-painted from floor to ceiling, complete with hairy balls and veins.

Hairy balls and veins wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was how
real
it actually looked. It was disturbing that someone could draw something that well with spray paint.

Eventually we averted our gaze from the monstrous dick on the wall and finally looked around the rest of the room, for the first time. It seemed in our discovery of the tattoos; we never noticed the pure insanity throughout the room.

There were probably a hundred beer bottles scattered throughout the room. Pillows were everywhere along with sheets, blankets, and the curtains from the windows.

You’d think a toga party was thrown in here or something. In the corner was a bouncy house blown up with what looked to be an entire grocery stores supply of toilet paper stuffed into it, unrolled.

Next to it was an actual kiddy swimming pool with god knows what in it but judging by the abundance of pudding cups throughout the room, I presumed it was pudding. At that point, I
hoped
it was pudding.

“I’m so glad I used Jameson’s credit card and not mine for this.” Alley replied stepping over some beer bottles and pudding cups.

“So you have no idea where any of the boys are?” Emma asked wrapping toilet paper from the bouncy house around her neck like a scarf.

“No, I said I didn’t know where Spencer and Aiden were.” Alley clarified. “Jameson is meeting with his team and Phillip to decide if they are appealing the fines NASCAR issued this morning.” She threw the newspaper at me.

On the front page of the Pocono Record was a picture of Darrin’s car upside down with a headline of:

Rowdy Riley fined $25,000 for Aggressive Driving

NASCAR penalized Jameson Riley, driver of the No. 9 Ford Simplex car 60 points, fined him $25,000 and put him on probation through the end of the season for aggressive driving in the Winston Cup Series race Sunday afternoon at Pocono International Raceway.

Darrin Torres, driver of the No. 14 Wyle Products Chevy, who was involved in the incident with Riley, was placed on probation though the end of the year for aggressive driving as well.

The penalties issued Monday stem from the lap 194 of the
Gillette Fusion ProGlide 500
, where Torres and Riley were racing for third place. Torres went up the track for a block on the second stretch when Riley hit Torres, wrecking him.

Torres’s car hit both the outside and inside walls before becoming air born in the infield. The accident collected at least seven cars.

“Both of them are on probation through the end of the year. We needed to do that to help protect other drivers from being caught up in an incident not of their making,” NASCAR Vice President of Competition Gordon Reynolds said.