Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (72 page)

She was busy tending to Spencer’s eye that was bleeding. “You have the drivers meeting in an hour.”

“What happened to you?” I asked Spencer.

He glared when I chuckled. “You’re best friend there decided to try and take my head off with your spring.”

“That’s my girl.” I nodded appreciatively smiling down at Sway tucked under my arm.

“Listen,” Alley smacked my shoulder. “You have the drivers meeting and then introductions start at four. After the race you have to make an appearance at the Howl at the Moon club in downtown Charlotte.”

I turned to Sway. “Did you get a hotel room or do you need to stay with me tonight?”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before whispering, “Alley got me my own room.”

“Well, I guess that means I have to return you to your room tonight.” I lied.

There was no way I was returning her to her room tonight, not unless I was with her.

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, Jameson.” She warned as we walked toward the garage.

“So you say,” I pulled her against my side securely before whispering in her ear, my lips grazed her ear. “I bet I can convince you otherwise.” I paused before smirking. “Besides, I have another ass cheek that needs branding and so do you.” Reaching behind her, I slapped her ass once.

“Is that so?”

“Without a doubt,” I replied confidently with a smug lewd smile and then winked to add to the fire (hers and mine). We stopped beside my car, her eyes lighting up. Sway wasn’t just your ordinary girl around
cars,
she got the same glazed over expression I got when she heard an engine rumbling, quietude.

As I walked her around the garage, introducing her to the new team members there was a sense of familiarity between us that was comforting. She was still my girl, the same girl who would blush and punch you at the same time. The same girl whose eyes told a story, but you had to listen to understand them, if you didn’t, you would never know the real her. She was the girl who loved ice cream more than breathing, who hated clowns like they were the devil and couldn’t walk into a room at night without every light being on. She was my girl.

I watched her closely, inquisitively examining her every movement. It was if my mind was trying to find a way out of the decision it already made but she wasn’t giving me any reason to go back it.

She was responsive to my touch, leaned into my embrace and when I kissed her cheek every so often, she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around me.

Could it be she wanted something more just as much as I did?

The night was passing with a blur and soon I was heading to the motor coach to get ready. It was funny to me that everything I’d been feeling throughout the day with the penalty, was overshadowed by Sway being here. She had the power to completely pivot everything hurled onto my shoulders just by being here.

I had a plan for tonight and nothing was going to change that. My mom asked me where that boy was that was so tenaciously determined. Well, I found him. More tenacious and more determined than ever.

30. Flat-out – Jameson

Flat-out – Refers to using 100% of the race car and not holding back on the ability of the car in a race.

Leaving Sway with Emma, I made my way to the drivers meeting.

That’s when I spotted someone I thought, hoped, I’d never see again.

Chelsea Adams.

Seeing her, wasn’t the most repugnantly unsettling part about it, it was her clinging firmly to Tate’s arm that made me want to vomit. She fucking hated racing but she was
here
, with a guy who deserved so much better than her skanky ass.

Don’t confuse this with jealousy because that was not it, at all. I
hated
Chelsea and I
liked
Tate. He didn’t need that drama any more than I did back in high school.

Bobby noticed my scowl and asked, “You know her?” motioning behind us at them.

I grunted but kept walking toward the media center.

“She showed up this morning.” He told me. “Must be his new girl he met in Washington.”

“Washington
...
what was Tate doing in Washington?”

Bobby looked at me as though I was stupid for not knowing. “The IDC race
...
we went out there on the bi-week.”

“Oh—right, I forgot.”

I wasn’t at all surprised when Tate sat next to me at the drivers meeting. I’m sure Chelsea packed his brain with all sorts of shameless lies.

“I heard you know Chelsea.” Tate said conversationally as he sat next to me in a folding metal chair; his hefty arms crossed over his chest. Other drivers and their crew chiefs began filing in behind us, filling the empty chairs on either side of us.

My eyes shifted from my phone I’d been holding, “Yeah, we went to high school together.”

“She said you dated.”

I snorted slipping my phone inside my jeans. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Tate tilted his head in confusion waiting for me to elaborate; only I didn’t care to, why should I? I didn’t want to remember her any more than I wanted to tell him.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked.

Carefully choosing my words, I replied slowly. “She is not exactly the faithful type.”

He seemed to consider this but I also knew Chelsea had a cogent side. She could make you see what you wanted to see. She should have been a politician.

Gordon walked inside the media center after that to begin the meeting. Kyle took a seat next to me, I smiled—he smiled. We both knew what this meeting would contain.

Knowing the events throughout the day with the fines handed down, how do you think the drivers meeting went?

Yeah, something
like
that. It was similar to my first few test sessions with Harry, only now I just felt angry. I was angry that someone put the additive in the tank and angry that Gordon felt the need to make the entire drivers meeting about cheating never taking his eyes off Kyle and me.

Staring at my hands, I fidgeted with a callous on my thumb, picking at the skin obsessively trying not to stand up and speak my mind.

My thoughts soon turned to Sway and tonight. We had been apart for far too long and I couldn’t wait to hold her, feel her against me, and in the most intimate ways. I wanted to skip the race and just be with her, which was surprising. Never in my life had I wanted to miss a race, and now I was thinking with my dick.

Before long I found myself heading for driver introductions, Bobby caught up with me.

“Good luck today, teammate.”

“You too,” I smiled at him.

“For all the shit that’s gone down today, you’re awfully cheery.” His elbow nudged me. “
You feeling
okay?”

I just waggled my eyebrows adjusting my hat.

“I see your girl’s here.”

Again, I only nodded with a smug smile. I think Bobby knew I wasn’t opening up about Sway so he moved on to talk with Andy Crockett and Paul Leighty who caught up with us.

Soon driver introductions were over and we were firing the engines up to start the race. I always got a sense of butterflies in the pit of my stomach but adrenaline always outshined to the point I never noticed, until today.

I don’t know why this race was making me nervous but it was. Or maybe it was after the race that had me so edgy. Either way, I pushed all thoughts aside and did what I did best—raced.

Spencer leaned inside the car as he always did before the race to wish me luck.

“You got this!” he handed me a picture with tape on it.

Glancing at the picture, I smiled sticking it to the dash where I could see it throughout the race. It was one of me, Sway, Spencer, and Emma after I won the track championship the year I met Sway. Under the picture Spencer had written: 
This is where you came from.

Without a doubt, that is where I came from.

I may be a NASCAR racer now but I’d never forget how I got here.

“All right Jameson, two laps to green bud,” Kyle said to me as I turned the wheel back-and-forth sharply cleaning the tires during the warm up laps. “You’re pit road speed is going to be 5400.”

“Copy that, 5400.” I told them glancing at the gauges and then back toward the lines on the track. “When I come out of three
...
that yellow line
...
is that the line for pit road?”

“Yeah,” Aiden replied. “Start breaking after the wall when pitting. You’re pitting right after the No. 16 pit.”

“Copy,” I saw Spencer standing on the wall waving.

Pulling on my belts once more, my heart was pounding—my hands trembled with excitement. The rumbling over the cars provided just the right amount of vibration to soothe me. If there’s any race you need to stay calm and relaxed for, it was NASCAR’s longest night, the Coca-Cola 600.

After a long green flag run, the caution came out. I was leading until we pitted. My car was absolutely perfected. I could run high, low, sideways if I wanted and it went anywhere.

Only problem was going into the stop, I was leading. When I came out, I was fifth.

I have certain expectations from a pit crew and right now, they
were not
meeting them.

I’ll admit, I was somewhat fired up but I had good reason to be.

“You guys act as though you’ve never performed a pit stop before!” I shouted. “What the fuck?” Blending in with the lapped cars, I made me way behind the pace car in my
fifth
position. Not only was I fifth, but I had to fight a handful of lapped cars as well.

“Sorry bud, there was loose lug nuts on the left rear.” Kyle offered.

I understand they had off nights, just as I did. Sometimes a jack man is going to miss his pegs, a tire changer may knock off a lug, or a tire carrier will miss the hang, it’s going to happen but it doesn’t make you feel any better when you’re leading going into the stop and then you come out having lost positions.

Having to spend forty-hours a week working on this, I expected more from them.

Another hundred laps into the race, we were coming up on a pack of lapped cars. “You’ve got company ahead, hold your lines.” Aiden told me.

It literally felt like I’d been inside the car for eight hours, I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Sometime after lap 350, I was mumbling to myself and still leading.

Jesus Christ, where is the checked flag when you need it.
I’d even settle for a caution right now.

Soon the caution did come out but the crew fucked it up again and I ended up seventh, yes— seventh!

I kept my cool on that one but when I made it to the lead again—and then fell back to third on the next stop—I lost it. My screaming into the radio even rung in my ears but honestly, I had a right to be upset. You cannot win these races without all aspects of your team lining up. You need to be on your game, the spotter needs to be paying attention, the crew chief needs to make the right calls and the pit crew; they needed to be perfect.

This time, it was harder getting to the front, with a few laps remaining, every driver steps it up. A move you could hustle in the beginning of the race suddenly wasn’t an option and could potentially take you out of the race all together. You had to concentrate and look ahead, anticipating what the other driver was going to do. That was every driver but the No. 14 of Darrin Torres—no one could anticipate him.

“I’m bottoming out in three and four.” I told Kyle after the last stop. I was trying desperately to get around Bobby but couldn’t once the green flag dropped again. I only had two laps.

Right now though, I had a bigger problem to worry about. My right rear was slipping on exit and Darrin was getting away. That combined with the dragging in three and four, I was losing ground.

“It’s the coil-bind. It lowers the ride height so you can get more power but it rubs on the splitter. That’s what you’re feeling.”

“10-4,” 

When I made it to Darrin on the last lap, flashes of the Winston finish unnerved me. That was unadulterated sacrilege. You don’t fuck with me like that on the track and get away with it and I refused to let him get away. I wanted this win.

“Go for it
bud
!” Kyle said when the white flagged waved.

My confidence in my car was there so I pushed as hard as I could. Coming out of four, I held my breath and hung on, praying to fucking god I could catch him in time. I think I may have even closed my eyes but I saw we both crossed the line together.

“Who won?”

Please tell me I won!

Darrin pulled ahead of me on the track, slowing his speed, the radio stayed quiet, so I asked again. “Who won?”

“You did bud. Nice racing!” Kyle answered with enthusiasm.

“Yeah!”
I screamed. I don’t think I’d ever been so excited to win a race in front of my entire family. Nope, this was the best one, so far, not the Chili Bowl or the Triple Crown,
nothing
, until tonight. Of all the tracks I raced at, I wanted to win at Charlotte. And it wasn’t just the Winston
race,
I wanted to win the Coca-Cola 600.