The Rookie (Racing On The Edge #7) (20 page)

It was only an hour later when the feature race was starting and I don’t think my mom had stopped crying all night. Part of me wondered if she was going to be okay but she was smiling.

“Starting fourth in the Donco Controls, JAR Racing, CST Engines, PJ’s Body shop from Elma Washington, the double zero of Axel Riley. Starting third in the CST Engines, JAR Racing, Myers Manufacturing, Christensen Construction from Elma, Washington, the four of Casten Riley. Starting in the second position driving the JAR Racing Solar Seals, Reed Motorsports, CST Engines, Donner Controls from Sarver Pennsylvania, number ninety-nine of Rager Sweet. And starting on the pole driving the JAR Racings Simplex Shocks and Sprints, CST Engines, Harris Headers from Elma Washington, number nine of Jameson Riley.”

Though my dad and brothers weren’t living in Elma any more, and hadn’t for a long time, they chose to have their home towns as Elma as that’s where they were originally from.

The cars were lining up a when I saw my favorite sight. My hand reached over and took mom’s. She smiled squeezing it.

“As they enter into turn four, they’ll get the signal to show you the greatest sight in racing! They’re four wide, this is their salute. Fans, stand and show them your support and let them know you’re ready for them!”

Everyone was on their feet, including our entire family.

Twenty-six of the best in the business got the signal to break formation. One lap later, the green flag was thrown only to be waved the caution two laps later when two cars near the rear got sideways and turned around in three and four.

Dad chose the inside on the double file restart. When the green flag dropped, everybody was running the outside. He got a good jump though and expanded his lead to two seconds by the third lap.

Axel, who jumped from fourth to second, had cut dad’s lead in half when they got into heavy traffic. Dad dropped down to the inside while Casten pushed up the cushion, rare for him, and was still hanging on.

Two cars got tangled in three and flipped up into the wall bringing out the caution.

They pushed the cars to the work area. Since we were still before the half way mark they were allowed two minutes to work on the car and still keep their lap on the track.

Both cars ended up returning to the track right before the green came out again. Dad again chose the inside on the restart. I think he did that because he knew Axel needed that line on the restarts if he wanted to get past him.

Dad was never the guy to let his sons win. He’d use anything to his advantage when it came to racing someone. He knew their weaknesses too. He did that so when they did win, they earned it and felt good they did everything they could. Grandpa Jimi was the same way.

Dad pushed up the track while Axel worked the inside and got past him in four only to have Dad slide past him in one and two again. He gave him a look at the lead but it was clear that was all he was getting. A look.

Within a lap he expanded his lead to two seconds again. Rager and Cody had caught Axel by that point when the caution came out again. This time for Casten who’d blown a right rear tire. He managed to get it changed and then got back out but couldn’t get past the traffic to get a good finish.

With two laps to go dad gave Axel one more look, switching lane but Axel couldn’t make the pass stick. Coming out of four my heart pounded, dad was on it so hard his front tires weren’t even touching when he came across the finish line.

Mom shot up from her seat, her arms raised over her head screaming and jumping. “Yeah baby! Yeah!”

It was a perfect night for her.

The cars took a cool down lap and then dad spun the car around in turn four doing a couple 360 turns before bringing the car down to the front stretch.

Mom and the rest of us made our way down there to celebrate with them. It was my dad, Axel and Rager in the top three spots.

Slowly dad took the steering wheel off, set it on the hood and then pulled his belts loose. He was slow getting out, mom watching his every move, but he gave her the sight she wanted. She was crying, her body shaking so bad I wondered if she was okay. I stayed back though, as did everyone else and let her have her moment watching him.

Dad stood on the roll bars and pounded on the wing, his helmet still on and visor closed. I knew why it was closed. He slumped forward, his head resting on the wing in what looked like a prayer. Maybe it was. I bet it was.

He stood up and pointed to the sky and held up one gloved finger and shook it as if he was saying someone was number one. I knew who. Grandpa.

Everyone was screaming when he hopped down, mom in his sights.

He kissed her before he ever talked to the media and it wasn’t a kiss he usually would have given in front of anyone. But he didn’t care. It was for her, for them, for the moment.

They separated eventually and dad approached the announcer for the World of Outlaws sprint car tour.

He smiled at my dad. “Jameson Riley, you won the dash and dominated that main. There seemed to be no question you would pull it off.”

Dad laughed, running a towel over his face. “There’s always a question when you got guys like Axel and Rager behind you. They’re gassers. You earn it when you beat them.”

“It seems like this is an emotional win for you, tell us about this paint scheme you got going on and will it stay?”

“This is a very emotional win for us,” Dad swallowed, hanging his head when his voice cracked. He looked up, tears falling from his eyes freely. His chin shook when his eyes met my mom. “This paint scheme is for her. My life. My wife…” Drawing in a deep shaky breath he blinked away the tears and ran his hand over his face. “A few months ago my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. This is for her. We’re keeping this paint scheme on these cars the ten races and the Cup cars for five races.”

The crowd still in the stands gasped at the news, nothing had been made public about my mom being sick. Even the announcer looked stunned and he’d been around my parents all year.

Dad smiled. “She’s strong, guys. If anyone can fight, it’s Sway Riley.”

He said her name like it was an honor to have been near her let alone speak her name. For him it probably was. She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to his side, shaking and his heart breaking.

As I watched them, I was in awe of the presence they had here, or anywhere they went.

Nothing would ever compare to them in my eyes. Nothing, and I mean nothing, would ever tear my parents apart. They’ve been put through the ringer in twenty-five years and they’ve stuck it out.

Watching him now, it was easy to see why he retired. He hung up his helmet in NASCAR and he did it his way. He didn’t do it because of the injury. He didn’t even do it because of Grandpa dying. He did it because it was what was best for him. It was what was best for my mom.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re in the pits or the grandstands, you feel my dad’s presence at a track. Even now, you feel it.

It isn’t an act with my dad. I’ve learned that. It’s him. It’s Jameson Riley.

People like the image of my father. Invincibility. They believe it and essentially created it themselves. It’s his rough and tough exterior, reckless attitude, never hesitant and rarely questioned persona. He was born and bred to be that way. It’s his sharp I-don’t-give-a-shit tongue that draws them in and makes them wonder and worship him. He’s a king. A legend and everything they dream.

Some thought he was indestructible. Someone who would never fall.

He could fall. And I’ve seen him fall to his knees before.

He’s fallen before the woman that holds his heart. He’d gladly give it to her too. Let her have it to survive this. But in his heart, he knows that what they have is a bond, a foundation that will get them through this. And watching my parents, I’m starting to ask myself that if they can survive anything, why can’t Easton and I get through this as well?

Driven – This refers to a driver’s mentality when he’s focused.

The next day we were at I-94 Speedway in Fergus, Minnesota and the weight of what was happening next week still hadn’t gotten any easier. It wouldn’t.

The atmosphere was tense and then someone would say something funny or play a joke on someone, and it’d lighten the mood. I rode to Fergus with Casten and Hayden while Gray screamed at me the entire time. About what I don’t know.

When we got to the track we parked the motorhome in the parking lot and then walked into the pits. Casten signed his waiver and minor release for Gray. It always surprised me that most dirt tracks allowed kids in the pits during the race. Not all of them were like that but most were.

Jack and Jonah were already there playing in the haulers, running from one to the other and constantly under everyone’s feet, laughing. Lane was near Rager’s car making adjustments and talking with him. Rager has always been very specific about his setups too. He actually taught Lane how to work on the cars more than my dad. Only because Lane and Rager understood each other, it just seemed more natural.

My eyes were immediately drawn to Rager standing next to the car, his left hand rested against the top wing as he leaned into it. He saw me watching him, maybe felt it and looked back at me.

It was a fleeting look but just like always, I felt it.

It was fucking hot that day too and all I had with me was a t-shirt and jeans. All that felt comfortable was my make shift tank top where I had cut the sleeves and neck off my t-shirts and rolled my jeans up to my knees. It wasn’t a cute look but when your ass cheeks have a river of sweat running through it you resort to shit like this.

Rager noticed when we were up on top of the hauler watching the third set of heat races. “Why don’t you just take that shirt off?” he teased.

I leaned into his side elbowing him. He caught my arm and pulled me closer. Then I noticed what he did.

He pulled me closer to peek down my shirt.

“Did you just look down my shirt?”

Rager laughed putting his hands in his pockets of his driving suit. “It was just a peek.”

“Of course you did that.”

I saw Axel down in the pits holding Jacen, looking up at me so I moved a foot away from Rager. He noticed as well and looked back at the track.

When the heat was over, cars flowed into the pits one after another. Rager watched me climb down the ladder, his eyes down my shirt again.

“Stop looking.”

“Hey,” he put his hands on the rail and leaned forward. “You look good. You may be married but I don’t see him around stopping me from looking, do you?”

He had a point. My husband wasn’t around.

The features were underway before I knew it and I found myself in the stands with everyone else. Mom was beside me, making fun of Tommy about getting a tattoo of Willie’s name on his back last week.

“He dared me to do it!” Tommy defended pointing to Lane.

“No.” Lane shook his head. “I didn’t say that at all. I was disgusted you were even thinking of doing it.”

Tommy shook his own head hanging it. “See…I didn’t hear that.”

Lane got up and went down to the fence after the 4-wide salute and watched Rager’s car when they broke formation and made a lap at speed.

Rager had dominated the night winning his heat, the trophy dash and was now starting on the pole for the 30-lap feature.