Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (63 page)

I called Emma back after that. Knowing me well she and Alley already had the plane lined up, which meant I left tomorrow afternoon for Pennsylvania.

“Ron Walker paved the way for many fresh faces we see today in some of the premier divisions. He had the ability to see talent where most would turn their heads but Ron gave them a chance at greatness.” Mark
Derkin’s
, track owner of Williams Grove, voice carried throughout the stands and infield prior to the memorial feature.

Standing there beside my fellow racers, fixed gazes on the flag stand where Mark stood, remembering an adherent man who changed the lives of many of us. An eerie silence fell over the mass of fans and drivers, until Justin sneezed beside me.

A few of us chuckled when he apologized.

I’d never faced death before. My uncle Lane died when I was young but I had vague memories of him. Since then, I had yet to see if first hand. Even now, with Ron, this wasn’t first had and though I knew him, I didn’t know him on a personal level. I knew he had a daughter, Jessica who raced sprint cars, but other than that, nothing. I couldn’t have even told you how old he was.

Jessica was standing a few feet from me, watchful of everyone, taking it in.
Blinking slowly, her shoulder length black hair swept across her face shielding her tears.
This had to be hard for her, losing her dad. Instantly I thought of Sway, flashes of her doing the same when Charlie died, only alone.

Racing never stopped, ever. But when someone within the racing community died, that’s when our sport shined. Jessica wasn’t alone today. At Williams Grove, on your average weekly race, you’ll see about forty cars competing for a spot in the main.

That
night there were
one hundred and sixty cars that showed up to pay respect for Ron Walker.

Sway wouldn’t have the sentry of the racing community. I knew that when Charlie did die, hundreds of racers would flock to Grays Harbor to show their respect just as we were doing tonight, but who would be there for Sway. Who would
really
be there for her? Could it be me?

Not likely with a ten month schedule followed by two months of testing in the off-season, racing never stopped. It’s a twenty-four hour a day job, 365-days out of the year.

Before the feature, Jessica made a slow pace lap in honor of him then the twenty-seven car field merged in before creating a 4-wide salute. Usually a feature only had twenty-three sprint cars but twenty-seven was the number of years Ron had been involved in race promoting, so we ran twenty-seven cars.

You’d think being a memorial race, no points, no money, just laid back racing, we would have simply raced and took it easy.

No, hell no.
We are all stubbornly aggressive but guess who won?

Jessica Walker.

A number of us could have taken that win at the end but we all knew what that win would mean to a girl like Jessica
having
just lost her father. It would have meant everything and it did.

She approached me after the race while Justin, my dad, Ryder and I threw back a few beers. I only met her a few times before so when she hugged me, I was a little taken aback.

“Thanks for coming. I know you have a busy schedule but my dad was proud of you and you guys,” she gestured to Ryder and Justin as well. “Thanks.”

I smiled kindly returning the hug.

“You’re welcome.” Pulling back to look at her, blue gray watery eyes focused on mine. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Not sure what else to say, I left with those words, walking toward the haulers to load up the cars. Justin nudged my shoulder.

“Given any thought to adding another driver?”

For the past few months I’d be humming it over with Justin and my dad about adding another car to my sprint car team in the World of Outlaws. Not that I needed my dad’s approval to add another car to my team, but I looked to him for any business endeavor I made.

“I have.” I told him.

“Who’s the new wheelman?”

“Either Ryder or Tyler. Though I think Ryder’s contract with
Donco
won’t allow him to race Outlaws while he’s racing in the USAC divisions.”

“It won’t. We talked about it last week.”

By now we made it back to the hauler where Tommy was already loading the cars with the help of Spencer and Aiden. Not that I would have ever asked them to, but as soon as my team found out I was racing here for Ron, they dropped all their vacation plans for the weekend and followed me. Goes back to the tight knit racing community thing I talked about. They’d do anything for you, anytime.

Loading up the last few tools and tires, I watched Tyler sign a few autographs as he strode toward us. With the humidity resiliently suffocating, his racing suit was pulled down to his waist, revealing his bare chest.

Even being around midnight by now, it was still at least ninety degrees outside and a hundred percent humidity. I was moments away from taking my own shirt off.

“Are you auditioning for
Chip and Dales
later?” Ryder teased walking past him.

Tyler chuckled and continued signing. He was becoming a popular driver admired and talented, among the dirt world and exactly who I wanted racing my other car.

Not that I wouldn’t have chosen Ryder. No doubt he had the skill no doubt but unlike Tyler and Justin, Ryder preferred USAC. Since he returned to racing after the accident in Williams Grove, he enjoyed the ability to run all three divisions each season and his full-ride sponsor in all of them,
Donco
, allowed him to do that.

Tyler on the other hand was running a limited USAC schedule and any Outlaw race he could make with the help of Ron Walker. Now that Ron had passed away, Walker Racing was an unknown.

When negotiating business, my black or white personality worked well. Nothing like the cagy personality I displayed with Sway, I knew what I wanted professionally and had no problem asking for it.

“Will you drive my other car on the Outlaw tour next week?”

“Next week?” Tyler asked perplexed. “You already have another one built?”

“Yeah, it’s ready to go. CST dropped the engine off last week. Tommy got everything ready.”

My Grandpa Casten and CST Engines, still one of the largest manufactures of 410-sprint car engines, provided all the engines for my team.

“Sure, why not. Don’t think I’m doing this for free though.” He added with a smile.

Tyler wasn’t a large guy, at barely five foot nine, and I was able to knock him to the ground with one shove.

“Sixty percent of your winnings—travel’s paid for.”

“Now we’re talking.” Tyler nodded hoisting himself from the dirt. He brushed rocks and a few leaves from his legs before smiling again. “Are you serious?”

“Have you ever known me to joke about racing?”

“Nope,”

“There’s your answer.” I squeezed his shoulder. “You and Justin fly out Tuesday for Grand Rapids.”

Later that night, after flying home to Mooresville, it was around two in the morning when I finally reached my room. Fully clothed, I threw myself on my bed, yearning for sleep I knew wouldn’t come. Racing always left me rather amped.

Vacillating between not calling and calling, I opted to text her. My thoughts had been centered on her all night and I couldn’t sleep without the connection.

To my amazement, she texted me back.

How was the race?

Instead of texting her, I called. With the harsh blinding edicts of everything around me, she was like a balm, providing a refuge. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, to get through the day, I needed her. For someone who was so blatantly focused to make his own path in the world, I was sure reliant on her.

“Are you all right Jameson?” I knew right then she was looking for the honest answer, not the standard, “
yeah I’m fine”
I gave to everyone else.

“I just
...
I don’t know, honey. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.”

“You’re in a stressful position.” She said mellifluously. “It’s understandable.”

Closing my eyes, I listened to her voice, tranquilly soothing. “Are you ready for graduation?”

She laughed, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “It couldn’t come soon enough. I hate these assholes here.”

“Who’s an asshole?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“You know me better than that.” I warned. “
Never
start a conversation with don’t
get mad.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you then.”

“Don’t do that.” I snapped.

“Blake kissed me.” she blurted out. “I kicked him in the balls and Tommy rescued me.”

You could have heard a pin drop. My voice, failed. My throat felt like someone had just dumped sand down it. Gasping for air, I replied with, “What?” at the same time.

“I uh—”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Oh, you said—”

“Nope, heard you,” Coughing, I tried to relieve the dry sensation rolling up my throat.

We were both silent for a moment, me concentrating on breathing, her with hesitation in fear I was going to snap. Finally she stuttered out. “Jameson?”

“I’m here.” My answer was quick. “Just thinking,”

“About?”

“Killing Blake,”

“That’s a little harsh. I already kicked him.”

“It’s not good enough.” My voice was even again, surprisingly controlled.

“You focus on your career
...
not unwanted kisses.”

“Unwanted?”

“Yes, unwanted. I never had feelings for Blake.”

“Good?”

“Yes—good. I don’t want you kissing guys.”

For the love of god! What the fuck? Do I say something else?

“I don’t want to be kissing
other
guys.” She offered. And don’t think I didn’t catch the “other” part. I held onto the word as though it was a gravitational pull.

Sway’s alarm sounding changed our conversation to her final she was taking today. Soon, we ended the phone call with a plan to talk later today after I got some sleep.

The problem was
,
I couldn’t.

Part of me was focused on Sway saying other guys, the other part, the obsessively selfish side, wanted to kill Blake. Any guy who flouted a women’s rejection, deserved to be knocked around. Though I wanted to do it myself, I knew I couldn’t. I planned to be in Grand Rapids for the Outlaw race there on Tuesday before flying out to Charlotte on Wednesday.

One rash decision later, I was calling Spencer.

“This better be an emergency?” he said groggily. He couldn’t have had much sleep yet, my alarm clock beside the bed flashed 3:45am.

“It is
...
well not really
...
no it is an emergency.”

Trying to figure out how it was really an emergency, I thought for a second.

“I’m waiting.” He pressed impatiently.

“A guy named Blake McCoy is giving Sway trouble at school.”

“Blake McCoy?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah—no problem,”

And that was that. I knew by “taking care of it” he’d have his police officer friend, Josh Keller, scare him a little.

It took me a good few hours to calm down from the kissing incident but eventually I did and was able to get a couple hours of sleep before I headed to the race shop.

Sunday and Monday were spent preparing both the sprint cars for Grand Rapids. Every track has a different set of rules so we had to make a few changes to the cars, check all the bolt-on parts, and safety equipment before Tommy came by to check set-ups.

I noticed the lower control arm was broken on Justin’s sprint car so I replaced those along with the torsion bars.

“You know, you should have told me,” were my first words to him.

Tommy backed away toward the door. This might have had something to do with the fact that I was holding a wrench in one hand.

“Uh
...
told you about what?” his eyes shifted around me.

He knew damn well what I was referring to.

“Blake.” I clarified, my inquiring scowl probed for answers.

“Oh, that.” He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Well—I was going to but she asked me not to.”

“And you listened to her?”

“Like I told her, you scare me. Like hell I was going to tell you another guy had his hands all over her.”

“She said he kissed her. She didn’t say anything about hands.”

“See
...
” he sighed heavily opening the door to the fridge in the shop. He retrieved two beers before closing the door and handing me one. I waited for him to answer but it seemed he was taking his time.