Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (36 page)

“Do you want kids?” Jameson asked yawning.

I thought about it for a moment. I was just imagining our babies.

“Yeah, I think someday I would.”

Jameson didn’t say anything just smiled.

“What about you?” I asked trying to remain sneaky. Jameson had leaned back on the couch so I sat down beside him and Lane.

“I don’t know
...
I guess maybe someday but not any time soon.” He chuckled softly and adjusted Lane on his chest. “I barely have time to sleep these days let alone take care of a kid.”

He was right. Usually when I heard from him, it was in the middle of the night. He didn’t have time for even himself these days and if he wanted this as a profession, it wouldn’t end.

After New Year’s we all headed back to Elma and then it was off to Tulsa. I had to be back in school the week after so it was nice get such a long break away from everything.

Tommy, Spencer, Jameson, Jimi and me headed to Tulsa on Tuesday with the racing starting on Wednesday. The main event was being held on Saturday night.

The Chili Bowl Midget Nationals is the biggest midget car racing event and some even refer to it as the Super Bowl of midge racing. It’s held in an indoor facility in Tulsa Oklahoma that can hold 15,000 fans and one of the only races where you’ll see around two-hundred and fifty drivers from the USAC divisions, NASCAR, World of Outlaws, and all the best open-wheel drivers in one facility all competing for only twenty-four positions. It’s some of the best midget racing you’ll ever see. Being an indoor facility they never had to fight weather conditions and the track is never subjected to too much rain and wind that would ordinarily dry it out. They keep the quarter-mile clay track tacky and perfect, just the way the boys like it.

The format is different from any other race. The first day is practice and then from there
it’s
five hours a night of racing with a fifty lap feature event on the last night. Each night they have heat races, dashes and twenty-five lap features to make it to the last night to be one of the twenty-four cars that fielded the A-feature.

The way it worked this year was we arrived on Tuesday, practice sessions were held Wednesday, and then on Thursday racing started. Each night there would be twelve heat races with starting positions determined by a pill draw, then two B-features and the A-feature. Points were accumulated for finishing positions plus passing points. The optimum objective would be to start last and finish first. This would allow you to gain the most points but with the competition at the Chili Bowl, no one ever accomplished this, unless you were Jameson and Justin.

The goal was to advance each night until you made it to the A-feature on Saturday night.

Thursday’s practice session went good and Jameson’s car was fast. Bucky had provided him a crew and the midget to race. Tommy and Spencer helped but they weren’t obligated too. It had to be nice for everyone to just show up and race, not have to worry about fixing the car when it broke.

Justin was there this year as well driving Bucky’s other car so Jameson and Justin were teammates.

Justin and Jameson raced well together; they both had their strong points. Justin had a rap for getting fast starts and staying strong whereas Jameson would lag back and come on strong in the end. Both techniques worked well but this provided Jameson with more points and moved him up faster. Justin won more heats but Jameson gained more points.

On Friday, the night before the A-feature, Jameson and I walked through the pits with Justin. They were stopped every few feet but eventually we made our destination, Bobby Cole’s pit.

Jameson admired Bobby for what he’d done in the USAC divisions as he was the only driver who had won the Triple Crown.

Bobby was a rookie this year in the NASCAR Winston Cup series and hadn’t been to the Chili Bowl in years.

I wasn’t surprised to see a crowd around him, but Jameson was surprised when Bobby knew who he was as did another Cup driver Tate Harris.

“Hey Jameson,” Bobby said conversationally when we walked up. Jameson threw his arm around my shoulder and shook Bobby’s hand with the other. “Glad to see you made it this year.”

Jameson smiled.

“Yeah, finally lined up this year,”

“Who
ya
drivin
’ for?”

“Bucky.”

“You smoked me last night in that heat race,” Bobby grinned.

“Must be the car,” Jameson teased with another smirk.

“Or the driver,” Bobby hedged. “Have you met Tate Harris?”

Jameson shook his head and looked over his shoulder to see Tate making his way through the crowd. He bumped Jameson’s shoulder when he walked through and back at us.

“So you’re the kid who’s won the Night before the 500 three times now.”

“That would be me.” Jameson said and leaned into me slightly. I tucked my hand into his back pocket.

Oh jeez
...
now I’m touching his ass. God help me.

Jameson didn’t seem to mind and never attempted to move so I kept it there. His arm never moved from my shoulders either.

“I’ve tried to win that for the last six years.”

“Yeah and I’ve tried to win Turkey Night for the last six.”

They all continued to tease each other about their wins that never came. It was nice to see Jameson mingling with guys around his age. He grew up around the legends in the Outlaw series but he never mixed with the USAC guys. Sure, he was friends with Justin, Ryder and Tyler but other than them, he rarely even spoke to any of them. He seemed to be at ease around Bobby and Tate.

One thing was for sure, there were a lot of people who disliked Jameson as well. When you have 250 drivers from all over the world and from different divisions, they all had different racing styles. Some didn’t like that Jameson would lag on restarts or his tetchy personality but you either loved Jameson or hated him. I honestly believed that if you hated him, you didn’t understand him. He was the type of person who you had to understand to like and to see the real him. He only let a few people see him for who he was.

Watching him that night, I couldn’t help but admire who he was becoming. Here was a kid I met when I was eleven and who was now he was twenty. He was a man and no longer
a kid I once knew
.

“Racing gods
...
please help me!” Jimi groaned caring a rear shock to his midget. His sponsor in the Outlaw series funded a car for him here.

“I think that’s supposed to be on the car.” Jameson jutted.

“No shit,” he tossed the shock at our feet. “You guys got a spare?” he asked Bobby and his mechanic who were standing next to him.

Without question, Bobby handed over a spare shock.

That’s the thing with racing. On the track you fight for every position, every point but I guarantee you that if someone wrecks or breaks something; you’ll have ten guys waiting at your pit to get you back out there.

I wasn’t surprised to see him here being as this was the Midwest but Grandpa Casten, Jimi’s dad and Jameson’s Grandpa, walked up holding his flask and motioned behind him.

“Hey Jay, those girls over there are screaming your name.”

I don’t know if I need to point this out, but given the chance, Casten would do anything to embarrass you, much like Spencer.

“Grandpa
...
” Jameson shook his head in embarrassment.

We weren’t expecting to see old Grandpa Casten here but I was pleasantly surprised. He was always good for a few laughs and loved to make fun of others, this is why I loved him. The only problem was that old Casten had a way of enlisting me into his army. This meant I somehow ended up wondering how in the hell I got myself into a situation when the outlook couldn’t have looked any worse. The old bastard got me arrested once when I went to a Nine Inch Nails concert with him a few years back. I’ll spare you the details but I was arrested and wasn’t happy about it.

“Hey, that one’s got a set of lungs.” He elbowed Jameson. “That could be a good time right there.”

Jameson leaned into my ear. “Kill me now, please.” He begged me.

I giggled. “Nah, this is entertaining.”

Jameson stayed and talked with Tate for a while so I walked back to his pit with Casten and Tommy.

“What’s with you and my grandson?” Casten asked conversationally, his eyes glued to the woman’s ass in front of us.

“Who are you talking too?”

“You
...
I was talking about you. Now settle the fuck down.” He grumbled taking a pull from his flask. “It was only a question.”

“I don’t know?” Was the nonsense that left my mouth in the form of a
question.

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

I started to panic and thankfully, he lost interest when the Red Bull girls caught his eye.

Later that night we all planned to go to dinner since Grandpa Casten made the special trip out here.

When I told Jameson what we were doing his response was, “I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“You wouldn’t,” Casten grumbled at him.

Grandpa Casten was hardly suitable for public. The Nine Inch Nails concert was a prime example of that.

“Do you want to sit with him?” I asked Jameson motioning to Spencer and Casten in the backseat of the Suburban Jimi rented.

Jameson gave me a glare. “No, I can’t sit back there with them. I might strangle them.”

Spencer perked up and nudged grandpa. “I can’t understand why he wouldn’t trust us.”

Grandpa snorted. “It’s like he has no faith in family.
Dumb shit.”

Jameson looked at them and then back to me. “Do you see what I mean?”

The days flew by and before we knew it, Saturday had arrived and the field was set for the A-feature. Twenty-four cars had fought for a place on the grid.

Tyler had missed the lock-in by one position when he finished fourth in the B-feature. I felt bad for him when he threw his helmet against the side of the transporter and punched the wall. These poor guys had battled for days, and then to not make the main by one position, he had every right to be angry.

It was a rugged field for the main, Jimi, Justin, Bobby Cole, Tate Harris, Levi Carlson, Alex Reed, Brad Westin
...
all good drivers, great drivers but Jameson had the confidence in him. Not once throughout the week had his optimism wavered. I watched him closely thinking at any moment he’d lose it and show some sort of nervousness but never.

Jameson started eighth in the main lined up behind Jimi and Bobby Cole. Levi was on his outside with Alex Reed right behind him. I bite off all my nails thinking of the last time he and Reed tangled but I hoped Jameson kept his head.

Prior to the feature, he pulled me in for a kiss, telling me I was his good luck charm.

I couldn’t turn him down even if I wanted to.

Tyler, Spencer, Tommy and I made our way to the pit bleachers to watch when Tommy nudged my shoulder as we walked. “You know, some would think you two were dating by the way you act.”

Spencer chuckled, as did Tyler but I wasn’t laughing.

“Shut up fire crotch!”

“I’m just
sayin
’,” he dodged my swing for him and then leaned in to whisper in my ear. “He’ll come around.”

I choked on my own spit. Tommy had to pat my back as we took a seat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s not like that.” I managed to say between coughs.

Tyler and Spencer looked over at me as I continued to choke.

Announcing the drivers for the feature got underway and thankfully no more talk about Jameson and I was mentioned. I knew people had their assumptions,
Christ
; we couldn’t have appeared any stranger. Here we were best friends, but we touched and kissed all the time. Who wouldn’t think we were together but the thing was
,
it never escalated. Besides the time in the sleeping bag when we woke up without shirts on, we kept it innocent.

That’s not to say these days I didn’t want things to escalate because boy did I. But that wasn’t us. We were friends. At least this is what I told myself.

For never being at the Chili Bowl before, Jameson received quite the uproar when his name was announced.

When the green flag dropped I was ready to start biting Tommy’s nails if he would have let me and was crushing his hand I was holding in an attempt not to have a nervous breakdown with the insane battle between him and Alex Reed for sixth by half way through the race.

Jameson had pulled his usual lagging back until half way and then became like a different driver. The caution came out soon after that for Jimi when he tagged the wall after his right rear blew.

Reed slipped coming out of four on lap thirty-one, Jameson passed him on the bottom for fifth. He went high for a few laps and came up on the Cup drivers fighting for fourth and they caught up with the lapped car of Russ Erickson. Jameson seized the opportunity and rallied by both Cole and Harris on the high side and was reeling in Justin and the kid from Australia, Levi with six laps to go.