Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (12 page)

“Jameson!” Nancy balked
at her son’s crudeness. “Not at the table.”

Jimi was undeterred.
“You already knocked her up in my kitchen.
Nothing
is happening on this
table.”

We were all quiet. You
could have heard a pin drop.

It took
every
ounce of self-control I could muster, not to giggle at that point and give
everything away along with my embarrassment.

“You didn’t
...
?” Jimi’s eyebrows arched, his fork
pinged as it dropped against his plate.

“Do you want me to lie
to you?” Jameson asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t.” Jameson
laughed, not convincing.

Images of his attack on
me, on this very table, inundated my mind.

Hot damn that was a
good time.

Jimi threw his napkin
on the table in complete disgust for his son. “I hope you have a little rusty
haired shit just like yourself.” His glare shifted to me. “Sorry Sway, but
you’re
screwed.”

As the days past in
Mooresville, we moved on from our pranks and it was time for Bristol and
Jameson’s first race back. We had concerns with being a short track but Jameson
showed no signs.

Though I was going with
him to Tennessee, I couldn’t stay for the race on Monday. I needed to leave on
Friday night in order to be home for the Northern Sprint Tour and then the
World of Outlaws came to town on Sunday.

I hated missing the
Bristol race as tickets for that race sell out two year in advance, but this
was the biggest event at our track. I needed to be there.

It only meant two days
away from Jameson as he’d be flying to Elma after Sunday’s race to catch the
Outlaw race and the fair on Monday night.

Every year we had the
“Big E Weekend” that consisted of racing, parades, fireworks and the best
tasting food around. This also meant I had a ton of work to do too. Between
insurance waivers, scoring, driver sign-ups, hospitality schedules, payouts, it
would be a mess if I wasn’t there to help. In turn, that’s where I was needed.

Jameson was driven and
pushed himself every day in order to make the Atlanta race.

Once his cast was
removed and the broken ribs healed, NASCAR cleared him to race again. The main
concern was still his lungs, which recovered well but still sparked coughing
fits from time to time. He had meticulous plans for regaining strength, muscle
and weight he had lost. Knowing Jameson, I had no doubt this would happen.

My only concern for him
was this being a short track and a night race. Bristol Motor Speedway was a
half-mile track with 36° banking, though it’s been debated
it’s
only 26°. Either way, it’s steep. There is stadium style seating surrounding
the concrete track with two pit lanes allowing all sides to catch the action.

With it being a night
race, tempers flared. Tempers I didn’t want Jameson involved with during his
first race back.

On Wednesday, we
arrived in Tennessee and met with an even bigger surprise in the garage.
Our surprise, the driver who had replaced Darrin Torres for the
remainder of the season.

Mike Tanner.

Jameson’s reaction was
to avoid him, which was the right thing to do.

What Mike did was the
wrong
thing to do. He approached Jameson and me standing in the garage, waiting for
his car to be released from inspection. The inspection process in the garage
occurred many times throughout the race weekend and focused on all aspects of
the car from fuel to aerodynamics to be sure they were in line with the NASCAR
rulebook.

Stationed securely to
Jameson’s right side, Mike walked toward us.

“Jameson.” He greeted
and then turned toward me. “Hey
Sway—
how are you doing
these days?”

You couldn’t miss the
denigrating tone he used when he acknowledged Jameson.

“I’m fine.” I snipped.
I was furious that he would so blatantly the fact that I was
with
Jameson.

Idiocy is the only word
I could think to use for his next move as he leaned in closer and whispered in
my ear. “Why don’t you leave him and come have some fun like we used to.”

My hothead reacted
pushing Mike away from me against the bay doors. “Listen to me you son of a
bitch.” Jameson spat moving closer towering over Mike. “I will only warn you
this
one
time. Stay away from Sway.”

Mike just stared at him
with a blank expression, searching his eyes. Maybe he was trying to see if he
was serious or maybe he was just that stupid. Regardless, the lack of respect
Mike showed, doubting his intentions, only impelled Jameson.

“I’m not scared of you,
Jameson.”

“You
will
be.”
Jameson replied in a no-nonsense tone.

Auspiciously, Spencer
walked into the garage before the argument could escalate any further. “Hey
Jameson,” his resonant voice carried throughout triggering other drivers and
team members to look over. “Alley is looking for you.”

Jameson remained set,
his jaw clenched, before he spun on his heel to face Spencer. I couldn’t hear
what he said but he whispered a few words to his brother and then pulled me
along with him.

“You should have
learned your lesson by now.” Was the only advice Spencer offered Mike before I
was too far away to hear
anymore.

Jameson continued to
drag me along like a caveman. His hand in my own was trembling slightly from
the adrenaline; his expression remaining frightening.

When we made it back to
the motor coach in the infield driver’s compound, his arm wrapped possessively
around me as a group of men walked past and smiled toward me.

I giggled. “Maybe you
should just piss on my leg too.”

“Maybe I should.” He
snapped back at me tilting his head toward me. “Maybe other men won’t fucking
test me then,”

“That’s gross.”

“Well, you said it.”

“I wasn’t serious.
What’s the matter with you?”

He didn’t say anything
as he let go of my hand, leaning against his motor coach. His eyes fell to the
ground when he realized how ridiculous he was reacting to all this.

“You’re not jealous,
are you?”

Jameson snorted, his
eyes still fixated on my hand he reached for. “How can I not be? He slept with
you
and now he has the audacity
to approach you in public, right in front of me. How else am I supposed to
feel?”

Stepping toward him, I
raised my hand to rest against his cheek. He sucked in a shaky breath and met
my eyes when I spoke. “Do you have
any
idea what it’s like loving
Jameson Riley, knowing that every pit lizard and garage groupie out there wants
him and would give anything just for one touch, just like I did?”

His eyes narrowed with
repudiation. “Do
you
have any idea what it’s like loving Sway Reins, the
woman that with one look; could melt any man’s heart with her eyes?” Jameson
breathed inches from my face holding me to his chest. His hand came up to touch
my cheek gently.

“Must be hard,”

He pressed forward.
“Hard indeed,”

“This turned you on?”

He hung his head in
shame. “No,
you
turned me on.”

“Sad.” I shook my head
guiding his lips to mine. “Come here you possessive pervert.”

We didn’t get a chance
for things to heat up before Alley returned looking for Jameson. “Stop that.”
She barked slapping at us tangled together. “Jameson, you have an interview in
ten minutes—get moving.”

Interviews were always
exciting so I decided it would be beneficial if not entertaining to attend.
Sitting along the side of the stage with Alley, Jameson, Kyle, and Jimi did the
first press conference since the accident.

Just a few minutes into
it, I was impressed by Jameson’s calm manner.  They questioned him
endlessly on his thoughts on Darrin, all of which he answered with vague
responses.

What stunned both Alley
and I, was Jimi’s reaction to his thoughts on the wreck.

Jimi wasn’t a man of
many words in the public eye.
Never had been.
Over the
years, he managed to avoid press at all costs, until now.

“I
will not
sit
back and watch another driver try to kill my son,” His tone final. “These two
have been battling all year and I’ve let it go but Darrin will be held
accountable for his actions if I have to sue NASCAR myself.” Jimi threatened
triggering a loud cheer from the crowd gathered in front of the stage.

The reporter then
turned his questions to Jameson once again. “Jameson,” my eyes scanned toward
Jameson who was slouched in the director’s chair completely relaxed. “You and
Darrin have been battling all season long with each other like Jimi said. Now
that he’s been suspended, what do you think your chances are for a championship
here in your first full cup season?”

Jameson nodded, his
eyes focused on the microphone as he tugged on the bill of his hat. “You know
...
we had a shot before the wreck.” His
head skewed slightly toward Jimi. “Now
...
it’s
hard to say. We missed three races and took a massive hit in the points but
Warner
Leddy
did us a huge favor by getting in the
car at Watkins Glen and Michigan. I have an excellent team and sponsor who
supports me. We have amazing cars with Riley Simplex Racing.” He reached for
the water in front of him and took a quick drink. “If we can manage top ten
finishes and stay consistent, I think we still have a shot at it but all those
aspects have to line up to do so.”

“Why do you think
Darrin wrecked you after the race?”

Jameson let out a
sarcastic laugh. “That’s a question you should ask him. Only he knows why.”

We knew Darrin’s motive
but we didn’t know
why
he was so intently focused on it. He was obsessed
and I had a feeling it wasn’t truly over between Jameson and Darrin.

Phillip was working on
bringing a lawsuit forth with reckless endangerment but with lack of details
surrounding the accident, they didn’t have much to go on.

While the prehearing
conference was held last Monday, it wasn’t looking promising. What most failed
to realize was when you raced in the elite levels of NASCAR, you followed the
rules governed by the sport. Besides that, most fines issued by NASCAR were
beyond any fine Darrin would have received if the accident occurred off the
track. You had to prove without a doubt to the courts that Darrin’s actions
were inherent to the sport, something that would be difficult.

Another thirty minutes
into the press conference, I left with Alley and waited back at the motor coach
for Jameson.

Once there, I spotted
Aiden stepping out with a sandwich his southern grin boyish.

“Hey,” I said nodding
my head toward him with my own grin. “
You spotting
for
him tomorrow?” I couldn’t help myself and giggled.

“It’s a day race.”
Aiden scrunched his nose. “I think I’ll be okay.”

The night race in
Bristol was not Aiden’s favorite. He once paid Tommy $1000 to spot for Jameson
if it was going to be a night race.

At Bristol Motor
Speedway, in the heat of August, perched on the towers outside turn two; the
bugs would swarm by the millions.

Apparently, last year
they had this big debate where Aiden basically refused to go up in the tower on
night races in the South.

Jameson would get a
kick out of this and would say something along the lines of: “If you hear
Aiden’s voice crackling—he just swallowed a cicada.”

Poor Aiden even went as
far as wearing a ski mask pulled down over his mouth so the bugs would say out.
It was
that
bad.

I wasn’t inside the
motor coach long when Jameson returned with my favorite smile plastered across
his face; abnormal for an afternoon with the media.

“Hi,” I mumbled against
his lips, my legs wrapped around his waist.

He laughed. “Well,
hello there beautiful,”

I grinned, lowering my
legs from his waist and sliding down along his hard body.

He groaned, pressing a
quick kiss to my lips. “I missed you,”

Though it had only been
less than a half hour that he was gone doing his interview with Track Pass, I
still missed him.

He pressed his hips
into mine, a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped back. “Yeah, been a whole
twenty minutes.”

“What?” I pouted,
pretending to be hurt. “You didn’t miss me?”

He put his hands on my
waist, under my shirt, pressing his body along the length of mine. I was
crushed between him and the side of the motor coach.

“I missed you every
minute
...
” he breathed, nuzzling
my jaw and licking my lower lip. “Every second,” His tongue lapped behind my
teeth, soft, hot, and wet. “I was away from you,” He fisted his hand in my hair
and deepened the kiss. He missed me all right.