Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (62 page)

My hands trembled against his dark shirt and I wasn’t sure how far he was going to push the issue. Not only was I impaired by alcohol but Blake had at least a hundred pounds on me.

“And I say yes.” His mouth attacked my neck with sloppy overbearing kisses.

Blake must not know me well because those who really
know
me; know that when I say no, I fucking mean it.

My knee came up hastily between his legs. Any erection he may had was now gone. “I said no!”

“Wow,” a voice behind me laughed through Blake’s howling. “And to think I thought I was going to have to fight him off you.”

I spun around letting Blake collapse to the ground to see Tommy standing there with a grin. I’d never been so happy to see that orange head in my entire life. I could fend for myself, sure, but emotionally, I was rattled a little.

Back at my apartment, a couple beers to calm my nerves, Tommy and I spent the rest of the evening talking while he tried to convince me to tell Jameson what happened with Blake.

“Why should I?”

“He’s your best friend. You tell him everything.”

“He doesn’t need my drama along with his own, Tommy.” I tossed a bag of chips at him and another beer. “Just leave it alone.”

“If you say so, but if he finds out from someone other than you,” he shook his head. “I hope I’m not there to see it.”

“He’s not
that
bad.”

Tommy quirked an imperceptive look in my direction, “Let me tell you something
...
do you remember that race out in Terre Haute in 2000 when you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear!” dropping down beside him on the couch in my apartment—I took his beer from him. “I went to the bathroom.”

“Whatever, you were gone for like two hours and no one could find you.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is
...
he is protective of you. If he thought for one second you were in danger in any way, he’d destroy everything and anyone to get to you. Did you know that he refused to start the feature that night until you were found?”

“He’s not
that
bad.”

“You’re in denial. He is
that
bad, when it comes to you.”

“Why do you keep saying that? We’re friends, nothing more.”

“The sooner you two realize that you’re way more than just friends, the better off we all will be.” Tommy laughed. “He’s one moody motherfucker when you’re not there.”

“Do you think he wants more?”

Tommy paused and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, then looked away. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Nice.” I retorted rolling my eyes.

“I don’t know if you have noticed this before but Jameson scares the shit out of me. No way in hell I’m telling you what he tells me.”

“Get out.”

“What—why?” His expression was similar to a child’s when they find out there is no Santa Clause and your parents lied to you.

“Because,”

“No, I have nowhere to sleep tonight.”

“Fine, sleep on the couch—share with Mr. Jangles.”

“Mr
...
who
?”

“Jangles,” I finished for him. “He’s my cat.”

Tommy glanced down at the overly large ball of fluff at his feet and then back at me with a wary expression. “Are you sure that’s a cat.”

“What else would he be?
A shark?”

“Or a cow,” Tommy balked. “I mean, Jesus Christ Sway, he’s fucking huge. Did he have a twin or something and eat it?”

“That’s enough fire
crotch
. You don’t see him making fun of your
orange
hair.”

That effectively ended our argument. He was sensitive about his orange hair. When we were young, he once tried to die it brown only to have it fall out and if possible, was an even brighter shade of orange now.

I spent a good twenty minutes on the toilet texting Jameson. It was the only peaceful room I had without Tommy.

Are you okay?

It was around one in the morning, I hoped he had made it from the track by now and was on his way home.

It took him a few minutes but he responded.

Yeah, I’m fine.
Just frustrated.

I know. Sorry.

Don’t apologize.

Call me tomorrow.

I have shit to do all day. I’ll call you sometime after seven, my time.

Sleep well.
I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want to go emotional on him through texting.

He never responded so I set my phone down on my nightstand while I brushed my teeth.

Just as I was getting into bed, Tommy yelled for me to come out into the living room. Thinking he was going to complain about Mr. Jangles, I took my sweet ass time.

When I eventually walked back into the living room, I realized this time he wasn’t fucking with me, his concerned expression told me he wasn’t done with our
previous
conversation, before he bashed Mr. Jangles non-existent metabolism.

Throwing myself into the chair beside the couch, I sighed. “What?”

“We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,”

“So are you and Jameson.”

“Yeah?”

I wasn’t following this conversation real well but it might have had something to do with it being three in the morning.

“
Me
and you don’t kiss, we don’t touch, and we don’t spend the night texting each other like teenager girls but
...
you and him do. That right there should tell you the answer to your question.”

Did I mean more to him than just his best friend?

I couldn’t sleep after that so I just
laid
in my bed, willing myself to sleep, it didn’t work.

My phone buzzed causing me to jump, my head smacked against my headboard. Glancing down, I noticed Jameson had responded to my text message.

You too honey. Talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for being there for me.

Did he feel more than friend status?

Whatever he felt, I couldn’t change the feelings I had. So unfamiliar, they felt like someone else’s thoughts, surging tides engulfing me in the memory of him.

27.
      
Running Light – Jameson

Running Light – This refers to a car that is running light on fuel. Most teams qualify with a light load to achieve the maximum speed from their cars.

In between the Richmond race and the Winston Open, I had a bi-week. I thought maybe I’d be able to fly out to see Sway before her graduation and make up for not being there, but no, my conscious took over.

The night after the Pontiac Excitement 400 in Richmond, I was heading to Charlotte for an interview followed by various appearances at a few dealerships and then an appearance for Simplex.

After Tuesday, the rest of the week and the weekend
was
opening up nicely. Feeling jaunty that I might have some time for myself, I checked my Blackberry. Shaking my head, I wasn’t surprised to see around forty emails, fifteen text messages and a dozen voicemails. Most of them I knew Alley would take care of so I just skimmed through a few emails from her letting me know my schedule for the next week. Thursday through Sunday looked open.

Scrolling through the text messages, I noticed a couple from Sway asking me why Tommy didn’t have stuff to do. Without unspoken words, he kept track of her. Not that I thought she needed to be checked up on, I just wanted to ensure she was safe. Tommy did that when he could.

So there I was, getting ready to call Wes when I listened to my voicemails. A few were from my mom, wanting to know if I could attend a charity event for the Children’s Hospital in Nashville next week. The one that caught my attention was from Justin.

“Hey Jameson
...
it’s
Justin. I wanted to let you know that Ron Walker was killed last night at Williams Grove. I don’t know how it happened but they cancelled the Outlaw race for next weekend to run a memorial race there. You might think about coming.”

Well shit, there goes my free weekend.

The next voicemail was from dad.

“Call me when you get this. I mean it
Jameson,
you better call me when you get up. This is important.”

And then one from Emma.

“Hey asshole.
Call me. Like right now. Where are you anyway? You better call or I will just keep calling.”

Time for myself?

Yeah, that ended when I decided to race for a living.

I called dad first knowing damn well if I didn’t he’d take it out of my paycheck somehow. “Hey,” I said nonchalantly when he picked up. Throwing a few shirts in a bag, I walked into my bathroom to pack a few toiletries knowing that either way I looked at it I wouldn’t be home this weekend.

“
It’s
noon, why the fuck were you still sleeping?”

Holding the phone with my ear and shoulder, I snorted. “I didn’t get home until four.” I replied on the defense. “That’s why.”

“
Oh
, well Ron Walker was killed last night at Williams Grove.” His voice was rough and drawn out like he hadn’t slept.

I knew he and Tyler were racing there the other night so I assumed they both saw the accident, if it was an accident.

“What happened?”

“There were a few late models on the track and Ron was out there taking photos when one lost control. Both cars hit the tractor tire he was sitting on.”

As much as it sucked, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It’s dangerous being out there in the infield when a car is on the track.

“USAC and the Outlaws cancelled Friday and Saturday night races for a memorial race at Williams Grove. Can you make it? Alley said you were free this weekend.”

Do I make the responsible decision here and show respect for a long time friend of my dad’s, and a track promoter that had a hand in my career?

Ron Walker was not only a well-respected USAC team owner of around ten cars that ran in the different divisions but he acted as a track promoter for not only the USAC divisions but the World of Outlaws and various sprint tours. So do I show my respect for him
or
do I blow it off and go see Sway?

“I uh
...
can I think about it for a few minutes?”

“Do whatever you want, Jameson.” He clipped and hung up.

Way to make me feel like an asshole, dad.

Was it so
wrong
to want some time to myself? And was it wrong the time I wanted, I wanted it to be with Sway?

I felt like I was about to combust if I didn’t get a chance to process everything that had been happening lately.

What happens when you put high-energy fuel (this being me) into a small enclosed space and ignite it? An incredible amount of energy is released is what happens. That energy can be used as the core to your engine. And it seemed, just like my life these days, combined energy with air and the explosion took on another meaning.

I must have sat on the edge of my bed for an hour staring at my phone, pleading with it to make the decision for me.

Racing or Sway?

Another hour passed and I thought of Charlie. What if this was him—would I be there for a memorial race?

In a heartbeat.

I made the decision and I went racing.

I talked to Sway later that night and though she hid it well, I sensed the sadness when I told her I wanted to come see her,
but
couldn’t.

“Don’t feel bad Jameson.” She told me after I apologized again. “I would be upset with you if you came here instead of going to that race.”

“You would?”

“Yes, I would. Ron helped you get to where you are now. Pay respect where respect is due.”

She had a point, she always did. “How would I ever survive without you?”

“Oh you wouldn’t.” she teased. “I’m pretty sure you would combust without me.”

“You’re probably right.” I chuckled at the irony that I was just comparing myself to the engines combustion and here she was, thinking I would combust without her. In reality, I would have already if it wasn’t for her.