Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (35 page)

I held onto her tightly, trying to comfort her in any way I could. I moved to sit down on the bed in the guest room and she straddled my lap. That position did nothing for my self-control.

My breathing hitched, as did hers and I may have even groaned. One second she was crying and the next we were moving away from each other.

“Sorry,” I muttered pushing myself off the bed.

Sway’s legs fell from my waist and she let go, sitting back on the bed and then curling her legs up.

“It’s okay. I forgot I wasn’t wearing any pants.” She glanced around the room, found her sweatpants and thankfully pulled them back on.

“Thanks,” I whispered before sitting back down on the bed beside her.

She looked at me for a long moment before chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you
...
um
...
okay I’m going to be a total girl right now.” She sighed in defeat. “Can you um
...
hold me?”

I had to laugh at her expression, so I did, and then she punched me in the shoulder. “Christ
...
if you want me to hold you
...
don’t physically hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, get over here.” She patted the bed.

“One condition,”

“What would that be?” she rolled her eyes.

“One, you keep those goddamn sweatpants on and two,” I paused and
laid
down next to her. My hand came up and touched her cheek softly before leaning in. “You let me kiss you.”

She never answered, just leaned in and pressed her lips softly to mine. I just wanted to remember the feeling, see if the same electric all-consuming feeling shot through me when our lips touched.

It did. The kissing only lasted a minute, maybe less before I pulled away and tucked her head gently against my chest. I don’t why I tested myself so much with her. I didn’t want to but as soon as I was around her lately, all I wanted to do was be closer, kiss her more and never be away from her. That scared the shit out of me.

Over the years, I’ve met my fair share of cocky drivers, myself included. You needed a certain amount of confidence to go out and do what we do but there was a fine line to walk there. Too much one direction and it’s never good.

I’m not saying I was a saint, because really, there were times where I didn’t like myself, but I like to think I would never purposely wreck someone
...
unless they asked for it.

While running the last night of the World Finals for the World of Outlaw series at the Dirt Track at Charlotte in Concord North Carolina, I ran into a driver I’d heard a lot about these days, Darrin Torres.

He just started in the NASCAR cup series this last year. He thought he was hot shit whereas I had my own theories having seen him race before. Most of the cup drivers who started out in open wheel racing reverted to it in the off-season or on Saturday nights when they weren’t racing so I wasn’t surprised to see him there.

Dad was there since he was an outlaw driver but what caught me off guard was the conversation before my heat race.

“Listen Jameson, be careful out there.” The intensity in his voice was enough to make me look up from strapping on my belts. Everyone was still a little shook up with what happened to Ryder, so I wasn’t all that surprised but we’d talked about this already. I knew the dangers but I didn’t suspect this had anything to do with Darrin.

“Darrin isn’t someone you can trust out there. Hold your line but if he pushes, back off.”

I scowled. I never gave my line up. Why would he even suggest that? He wouldn’t lift if it were him.

“It’s just not worth it.” He muttered tucking his helmet under his arm. “I’ve seen too many guys wrecked by him.

I nodded and slid down into the narrow cockpit when he walked away. There wasn’t much I could say.

Sway and Emma came by with Lane prior to the race and said hello. I got a baby high-five from Lane. He was seven months old now and got more adorable every day. Sway hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek for good luck and Emma kicked me in the shin.

In the feature, Darrin and I lined up in row four, beside each other, with me on the outside.

Dad was right about Darrin. He was reckless on the track but I was faster, stronger and outsmarted him, taking every line he chose and pushed him up the track. I knew my abilities on tracks like Charlotte. He wasn’t even in the same league as me and judging by his movements inside the car, he wasn’t adjusting well to the difference in handling from the cup cars.

He was on my ass mercilessly though but I was satisfied to note that he was using his tires up just trying to catch me.

I ended up taking second. My car was no match for Justin’s and Darrin came in seventh. After the race during the cool down lap, he shot around and clipped my rear tire.

I think I’ve said this before but what happens when you clip the rear tires on these beasts? That’s right; you’re flipping quicker than you can blink.

It was a cheap-ass hit. It was deliberate and I lost my temper.

I jumped down off the wrecker tossing my helmet and gloves in the same motion once we were back in the pits. Rage roared through me. Fuck being calm and reasonable.

“What the fuck was that?” I snarled at him.

I didn’t give him a chance to answer. No way was I letting him get away with that shit. I struggled furiously against the hands and arms of crewmembers and officials fighting to separate us.

I was too caught up in my rage to listen to the officials that had a hold of me as I fought to get at him again. I lunged against the restraining hands, wiping the sweat from my eyes, and suddenly I realized it wasn’t sweat but blood coming from my eye.

I growled doubling my efforts to get at him when my dad yelled. “Jameson! That’s enough!”

Getting light headed, I realized it was enough when the officials pulled Darrin away from me; either that or we were going to kill each other out here.

Stomping my way toward my pit I realized the blood was now pouring out. I had no idea he even got in a hit to do that damage but I was hardly paying attention.

Head wounds bleed like a bitch and I had enough sense to know this one needed stitches. I stormed back to the hauler with Tommy, Sway and Spencer following. Everyone that knows
me,
knows my temper is legendary and I proved it that night. It took me a good four hours and six stitches above my eye to calm down.

It was all over the papers the next morning that Jimi Riley’s son tried to teach the NASCAR Winston Cup series Rookie of the Year a thing or two about retaliation. I’d like to say that was our last run in with each other but it wasn’t.
Far from that.

That night was the end of the racing season and once again, I was thankful. Not only for a break but my head was pounding and I had a feeling
it would
be for a while. I’d taken some hits this season. I was becoming used to double vision these days and after a while, it seemed normal.

I was heading to Turkey Night in a few weeks but this also left a little time for a vacation and then for the first time in my racing career, I was finally racing in the Chili Bowl in January. Schedules lined up with an open seat in Bucky’s midget car. I couldn’t wait.

Ryder was still in the hospital in Pittsburg so before flying home to Elma I decided to make a detour to see him. Justin came along with me and we spent most of the night there recapping the last few races for him. He was doing better, still not up and walking around but the doctors assured him
eventually
he’d be able to get back into a race car if he wanted. He was young, just a year younger than I was, so it meant he’d heal faster.

Justin flew home to Bloomington and I flew back to Elma later that night. It felt good to be home but I was so amped about the Chili Bowl I couldn’t wait for January to roll around.

Dad decided not to race in Australia this year and forced us all to go on a vacation for Christmas. With some persuasion, I convinced Sway to come with us. Charlie was also going to come but cancelled at the last minute because he said he wasn’t feeling well.

On the way to Vail, Colorado, where we’d be spending Christmas, I decided it was time to tell Sway about the Chili Bowl. So far, the only people who knew I was going were dad and Bucky.

Tether – Sway

 “Sway, I have something to tell you.” Jameson said suddenly on the flight to Vail.

What that you love me?
You wish Sway!

“Yeah?”
I flipped my magazine closed and looked over at him, ignoring my internal stupidity.

“I’m going to the Chili Bowl this year.” he smirked.

“What?” I nearly fell out of the chair. “Are fucking serious?”

“Calm down.”

“No, I won’t calm down! You’ve been saying this for years! Oh my god, this is so exciting. When do you leave?”

I’ll admit, my enthusiasm for this was even alarming to even me but you have to understand, every year he plans to go and schedules cross or he can’t get a car together in time.

The Chili Bowl, Turkey Night, The Hut Hundred
...
The Night before the 500
...
those were the races that got you noticed and into full-time rides. This was huge for his career to be able to go. As it was he was racing Bucky’s car and had a part-time sponsorship with Bowman Oil and a handful of other sponsors, but he funded his winged sprint car and that seemed to be what he
wanted
to run. If he had a good showing at an event like that, it could mean leaving there with sponsorship.

“If you would calm down for a minute I would tell you.”

“I can’t believe this!” I launched myself into his lap. “Does Jimi know?”

“Yeah, hey
...
listen
...
I wanted to know if you would come with me?” he smirked again.

“Come with you?
To the Chili Bowl
...
like in Tulsa?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there for a week
...
I thought it would be a good break for you and I would like you to come with me.”

“Like to Tulsa?” I repeated.

“Yes Sway.” He sighed. “Am I not explaining myself very well?”

“No, it’s just
...
you took me off guard.”

“So that’s a yes?”

I was silent for a few minutes and I had no idea what to say. Of course, I would go with him. I would have skipped school in a heartbeat but thank goodness my classes didn’t start just yet.

The Chili Bowl was only three weeks away and I almost thought I showed more enthusiasm for it than Jameson did that week in Vail.

It was fun being around the Riley family again, all of them. When I was with them, I felt as though I never left.

Jameson and I spent most of the time playing in the snow and trying to snowboard. This was one sport Jameson hadn’t mastered and neither had I. After that, the majority of the trip was spent in the hot tub nursing our sore bodies.

I had never laughed so much, ate so much, and been, well, been as horny as I was.

Everything Jameson did
turned
me on. He breathed and I wanted to jump on top of him. He laughed and I wanted to hump his leg, he smiled and I nearly died. But it wasn’t just that I was horny. Everything he did was enduring. He looked at me, I fell deeper; he kissed me and I melted.

I never thought anything of the kissing because ever since Jameson and I were little, we kissed. When we saw each other after a long departure, we kissed. When we got drunk, we kissed. It never escalated to anything of substance because he always stopped. I wouldn’t have stopped. Most girls would have gotten mixed emotions but I knew Jameson well enough to know that it wasn’t that he had romantic feelings but that he was just horny. I didn’t care. Should have, but didn’t. I would take anything he was willing to offer, that’s how truly pathetic I was.

By Christmas, I was wondering how in the hell I was going to make it another week and then be in Tulsa with him.

We spent New Year’s Eve together and watched Lane while Alley and Spencer did god knows what behind closed doors. Lane was a hoot and definitely part of the Riley family. He thought his uncle Jameson was pretty cool, in turn, Jameson thought he was pretty cool.

I could see a lot of Spencer in Lane. The kid loved to laugh whereas Jameson was serious and contemplative natured. I wondered what a baby Jameson would be like, preferably mixed with my genes.

Have you lost your mind?
I asked myself.

He doesn’t feel that way about you and you’re already envisioning your babies with him.

Crazy person.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Jameson said watching Lane sleep on his chest.

“Yeah,” I smiled adjusting his blanket so it covered his chubby little arms. “Hard to believe your brother of all people could make something that cute.”