Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (70 page)

“Who are you calling?” Spencer asked stepping inside the motor coach that night before heading to his hotel.

“Uh
...
Sway,” I admitted and hung my head waiting for her to answer.

“I’m sure you want to be doing more,” he countered with a smug grin.

“Shut up,” I kicked him on the way out. Gratifyingly, he fell down the steps. “Hey wait, get back here.” I yelled after him hanging out the door by my arm on the door handle.

He turned to me brushing dirt off his jeans. “What?”

“Did Josh take care of Blake?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up like he’d just been told his favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, would be celebrated twice this year.

“Dude, you wouldn’t believe how scared that douche was. Even pissed his pants when Josh and his buddy got a fake search warrant,”

“Why’d he piss his pants over a search warrant?”

“Turns out
...
he was growing weed in his apartment and selling to the students at Western.”

“No shit?” This turned out better than I thought it would. Even though I would have liked to see him threatened about never touching Sway again, at least he was in trouble.

“Shit.” Spencer nodded turning to walk away. “Oh and
...
don’t
sound too eager when you beg her to come out here. Have some dignity.”

Chuckling as I swung the door closed, Sway answered, “Hello?” her voice bleary.

“Shit,” glancing at the clock on the wall I realized it was nearly two in the morning there. “I forgot the time difference.”

“Jameson?”

“Yeah honey, it’s me.”

“Oh
...
good job on the pole,”

“Thanks
...
hey I called for a reason.” I paused preparing myself. “Come see me.”

“What?”

“This weekend,” I clarified. “Come see me in Charlotte. I’ll buy the ticket for you to come.”

She was quiet for a few seconds; her steady breathing was the only sound before she sighed softly. “I uh
...
are
you sure?”

“Well yeah.” Letting out a soft chuckle, I continued. “I asked—didn’t I?”

She was silent so I added fuel.

“I miss you and I got the pole.” I softened my tone. “Please honey
...
” I begged.

“Fine, I’ll come.” She sighed with a soft giggle.

My perverted brain was focused on the fact that she said I could come. I blame this on the fact that I haven’t had sex in over a year. Hell, I’d barely done any bleeding of the pressure valve these days.

We ended the conversation after that so she and I could both get some sleep. I was no longer focused on the fines handed down that had consumed my mind all week. Now I had the pole to the Coca-Cola 600 and Sway was coming.

Oh goddamn it.

My body had
other
ideas at the thought of the word coming again—so I snuck off to the bathroom before heading to bed.

I woke up feeling both relaxed and energized. For one, Sway was coming to see me and I raced sprints last night. Whenever I got a chance to race on the dirt, I felt better.

Things were looking good, so I thought.

I only saw what I wanted to and had avoided the underlying feelings for too long holding out hope that they’d go away. They didn’t. I was determined to do something about it this time. I was done messing around. We needed more from each other and if physical was all we could have, then so be it. The thought both excited and terrified me.

I walked through the paddock that morning, lifting my chin in acknowledgment at the calls from fellow drivers and fans who gathered.

My mind kept considering how I might tell her I wanted more.

I’ve wanted to tell her so many times how my feelings had changed but I couldn’t. This lifestyle was not something I could ask her to adapt to, how could I? That was the part I couldn’t get past because in order to give myself to her in all the ways I wanted to, my demanding schedule was what was holding me up.

I’m on the road forty weeks out of the year. Monday through Wednesday, I’m usually doing sponsorship commitments or working on sprint cars for my team. Thursday through Sunday, I was at the track racing and then it started all over again on Monday.

Prior to the team meeting, I stopped by the motor coach where Cal had fixed breakfast for everyone.

“What are you going to do when she’s here? You know you need to be concentrating and not thinking of ways to get Sway in bed with you.” Spencer asked shoving a bagel in his mouth.

I kicked him under the table we were sitting at. “Fuck off. It’s not like that with Sway.”

“You’re in denial.”

I shoved myself away from the table and got ready for my endless amount of interviews today.

On the way there, Sway sent me a text.

Got my ticket, by there at two.
Someone had better pick me up, asshole.

I typed one back.

Headed to interviews.
Can’t wait to see you! Alley will pick you up.

Alley caught up with me after my appearance on Trackside Live. “Hey Jameson, you have a meet n’ greet in about an hour.” She pushed her curly blonde hair away from her face—the summer heat was blistering today. Her porcelain cheeks flushed from the heat with Lane on her hip.

“Thanks
...
hey,” I flashed her with a wheedling smile.

My mood was never this good on the day of a race; this wasn’t lost on Alley either who looked at me as if she’d never seen me before. “Can you pick up Sway from the airport today?”

She nodded her head looking down at her Blackberry. “Sure
...
but don’t do anything stupid.”

“What are you talking about?” Lane squirmed in her arms to reach for me. His bright curious blue eyes scanned around the humming boisterous atmosphere of race day in the garage area.

“With Sway
...
just
...
don’t
, Jameson.” She warned handing him to me.

“Huh?” Lane and I both looked at each other—he squinted into the sun shining on him over my shoulder.

Alley slapped at my forearm.

“I know you
...
you want
...
” her eyes focused on Lane as she chose her words carefully. “
more
but I’m telling you right now, one of you will get hurt. Just don’t.”

Lane smiled at me, his expression strangely serious. “Mommy says no.”

Great, now a three-year old is giving me advice.

I knew what Alley was warning me about but I had to know if Sway felt the same way. I knew she had
feelings
for me but I needed to know for myself if there was any chance they might be more. I wanted more. I wanted it so
badly
it’s all I could think about right now. Understanding how long it took me to come to this conclusion that I wanted more, do you honestly think I’d be persuaded not to act upon it that easily?

I wasn’t sure how it would turn out once she was here but I had to try. I was done wasting time with her, I needed something, anything.

Every Sunday morning while I did my interviews and meet-n-greets; my car went through inspection at the far end of the garage. NASCAR officials picked over the car on an elevated platform. During various times throughout the weekend, your car was inspected. Usually before the first practice session, before qualifying, after qualifying if you win the pole, and just before the race.

They also do this after the race for selected cars, usually the top five finishers, the first car to fall out of the race not involved in an accident and one random car. You don’t know if you’re a random car or not until you’re pulling onto pit lane and the official
tells
you. If something doesn’t jive after the race, you lose the points awarded for the win and you’re penalized. In most cases you do get to keep the win itself.

They inspect everything from ride height, angle or size of spoiler, weight (they must weigh 3400 pounds with at least 1600 pounds on the right side without the driver), engine specs (the car must adhere to compression ratios and displacement) how the car fits into the templates, and restrictor plates if it’s a restrictor plate race.

Now did I mention they check your fuel?

If I didn’t, it’s because I never thought about it,
until
today.

Our team had no reason to cheat, so why would we?

Each week we were consistent, always had been. I’m not saying we didn’t bend the rules from time to time because every team did. You push and push until you get handed a fine. Then you know you can’t get away with that any longer and you push the next issue. It’s racing. With the competition levels they way there were, every team tried to “one up” the other. It was the name of the game.

So yes, we pushed boundaries, but we never messed with the fuel or tires. Two things NASCAR heavily enforced.

All things considered, when Kyle approached me after inspections and prior to my meeting with Simplex to tell me they found something in our fuel, I wasn’t pleased.

“What the fuck do you mean they
found
something in the fuel?”

“I don’t know.” He threw his arms up. “Mason said they made the crew drain the fuel tank and they took the fuel for testing.”

Alley must have noticed my fuse was just about out to ignite as Kyle was talking
cause
she stepped in front of me and her hands gripped my shoulders.

“Jameson,” Alley’s voice was full of warning. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I was getting angrier and confused.

“Lose control right now.” She said sternly. “Just relax.”

I grunted and walked away from both of them heading to my meeting with Simplex. This was not the shit I needed or wanted today.

While I was busting my ass through the paddock to make it to the hospitality tents Simplex had set up, Spencer chose now to talk to me.

Catching up to me, he slowed his jog to a fast walk. “Hey dude, is Sway really coming?”

“Yeah, she’ll be here later this afternoon.”

“Are you going to
talk
to her?”

This was not a conversation I wanted to have right now or ever for that matter.

Glaring his direction, he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

My fist rose to punch his shoulder but he ducked away and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Good luck little brother!”

Before I reached the hospitality tent, Alley caught me again with Kyle trailing behind her.

“What now?”

“NASCAR wants to see you, Kyle, and Jimi in the hauler
...
”

“I have the
...
” I motioned toward the tent as my voice faded.

She pushed me back the other direction. “That’s going to have to wait
...
I’ll talk to them, you go see Gordon.”

So there I sat, in the principal’s office again. Alley sent me a text when I was sitting there waiting for Gordon.

Whatever you do, don’t answer their questions. It’s exactly what they expect you to do. Be selective.

I typed my response while Gordon entered the hauler. He didn’t look at us, just carried a manila folder inside his office and slammed the door behind him. The water pitcher on the desk outside his office shook from the force.

It’s too late for me, they know everything. Get out! Save yourself!

Fucking idiot.
She sent back.

I was surprised I was joking around but I had to or else at that point, I was going to kill someone. Turning to Kyle who was sitting next to me, I asked, “Is there something I should know?”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes scanned mine.

“With the fuel
...
did you guys add something?”

Kyle looked offended. “Do you honestly think I’d allow something like that?”

“No, but I’m just checking.” I flopped back in the chair wondering how I could get us out of this mess. “I don’t want to go in there defending us and then find out it’s something we did.”

“Our team would never jeopardize something like this.” Kyle snapped. “They could impound this car
...
you know that right?”

“Why do you think I’m asking?”

Gordon came out of his office after that, looking thwarted. “Riley, can you come in?”