Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (74 page)

On top of being
incredibly claustrophobic, I was burning up. Here I was, eight months pregnant
and I swear to God I was carrying around a baby the size of a goddamn toddler
in my stomach so yeah, I was burning up.

“It’s hot in here.” I
complained.

“Just take your dress
off.” Spencer suggested with a hint of amusement.

“No!”

“Why
not?
It’s dark and we are alone in an elevator. No one will know.”

“I’m not taking my
clothes off around you.” I pushed myself further back in the corner to avoid
touching him.

“
Puh
-lease
...
I’ve already seen you naked.”

“Not really the point,
Spencer.”

It was quiet for a
couple minutes before he chuckled. “I’ll take my pants off if it makes you feel
better.”

He was so clueless
sometimes. “Spencer?”

“Yeah
...
?”

“Keep your fucking
clothes on.” I said sternly.

“Are you mad at me?
It’s not my fault the elevator is down.”

“If I go into labor because
I’ve missed Jameson’s speech, I will kill you!” I blew up on him. “After I have
the baby,”

“That’s harsh.”

“No it’s not.”

There were another few
moments of blissful silence before he spoke again. “Do you think you’ll
actually have the baby in here?”

“I sure hope not. I’m
only thirty-two weeks and the last thing I want, is
you
delivering my
baby.”

All was quiet for
another five minutes or so as I began to have a full-fledged panic attack. It
was similar to the one I had with the penis and my wedding.

“Sorry,” Spencer
muttered shifting away when his leg touched mine, I heard him sigh deeply as
his head fell back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s just me.”

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s you.” I
told him perturbed. “We are the
only
two people in here.”

“I know. I just thought
it would make you less freaked out. It could be worse.”

“It couldn’t be any
worse and it’s not making me feel
less
freaked out. The only thing that
will make me
less
freaked out, would be watching Jameson’s speech right
now!” My voice rose continuously until by the end of my rant, I was screaming
at him.

Maybe it was the
resonance of my voice, but just then the elevator jolted, plummeting about a
foot before halting. A loud voice echoed the doors, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah man, just get us
out of here.” Spencer said. “My little brother is giving a speech downstairs
and his wife will kill me if we miss it.”

The elevator jolted
once more and then the heavens opened, as did the elevator doors.

“Thank god!” I wailed
clinging to Spencer’s burly arm. I was wearing a dress and nylons were not an
option with this belly so when my
bare leg
brushed against Spencer’s
bare
leg
, I shook my head in disgust that I was now related to this. “You don’t
have your pants on, do you?”

“Nope,” he replied
calmly.

“You have to be
shitting me,” I mumbled looking away from him.

There was a three foot
jump we had to make to get out of elevator so Spencer had to lift my fat ass up
so the technician could pull me out. “I was wrong
...
this could get worse.”

“Nice panties.”

“Stop looking you
jerk!”

“What was that ma’am?”
the man grunted as he hefted me up.

Spencer chuckled.

“Nothing,” I mumbled,
straightening out my dress as Spencer pulled himself up with little effort.

I didn’t wait for
Spencer to put his pants back on before I was sprinting to the banquet hall.
And if you’ve never seen an eight month pregnant woman sprinting, it resembles
a sea lion moving at full speed. If it wasn’t for Spencer holding on to me, I
probably would have tripped seeing how I was trying to use my body weight to
shift myself from side to side in an attempt to move quicker.

I resisted the urge to
clap my hands together and squeal like a sea lion, though I was incredibly
tempted to do this.

When we walked inside,
my husband was approaching the podium.

Pole Position –
Jameson

Looking down at my
speech, my thoughts drifted to the season that got me here today and then the
speech again as I scribbled a few more notes.

Who am I on the outside? Am I a distant version or the
same within when clay meets rubber?

When the unforgiving sun and the blaring spotlight
distance me, the version within is who people really see.

Who I am and what I do is a power that only I possess.

I’ll be myself and they will see that it was me all along
racing on the edge.

Tossing the pen aside,
I wiped my sweaty palms on my suit jacket.

I could do this but
then I looked at the paper folded in my hand again and realized that I hadn’t
wrote a speech at all, I’d written my season.

The introduction on
stage drew my attention.

“He’s an American
legend in the making and a dirt track prodigy from the Pacific Northwest who
has taken his talent to the highest levels. Ladies and gentlemen, please
welcome your NASCAR Winston Cup Series Champion, and
Raybestos
Rookie of the Year, driver of the number nine Simplex Shocks and Springs Ford,
Jameson Riley!”

I think I may be having
a panic attack. Yep, definitely
a panic attack
.

I tried taking in a
deep breath to calm myself.

I’d won championships
before but nothing
this
huge. This was beyond words.

My heart pounded
rapidly as I trudged toward the microphone, peering through the darkness into
the crowd. I started by speaking about the season and all the changes we had encountered.
I joked with everyone in attempt to hide my nervousness. My eyes glanced over
my speech, or whatever it was I scribbled.

“I don’t even know what
to say here
...
I can’t believe this.
For my first season in cup, it had its fair share of ups and downs and trials
and errors. I never thought I’d have the season I’ve had. I never thought I’d
win twelve races and the championship in my rookie season but I guess I did.” I
chuckled lightly peering down at my hands on the podium crumpling the edges of
the paper. “I have to thank my dad, and car owner, Jimi Riley.” I looked
directly at him sitting on stage; he smiled and gave a tight nod. “Without you
I wouldn’t have a car to drive but more importantly, when I told you what I
wanted to do for a living you never discouraged me. Mom,” she gave me a
heartfelt smile choking back tears, her hands clasped over her mouth. “I
...
I couldn’t have asked for a more
supportive mother. You deserve
way
more credit for having to put up with
all of us but you really are the heart of everything we are.”

I noticed Spencer and
Sway had finally arrived. “Spencer, Emma, Alley, Tommy and Aiden
...
I love you guys and thanks for putting
up with my attitude and being a friend to me, even though I don’t always tell
you how much I appreciate you guys, I do. You have no idea how comforting it is
for me to have family around, reminding me of what is real and where I come
from. I may be a champion now but inside I will always be that small town dirt
track racer from Elma Washington.” I heard Spencer scream from the table and
pump his fists in the air. “I also have to personally thank the guys on my
sprint car team as well—they are just as much a part of this even though they
are not personally on the cup team. Those guys, Tommy, Justin, Tyler
...
all you have to do is say the word and
they are there for you. Thanks you.

“Kyle, I’m amazed
you’ve stuck by me with the shit I’ve put you through and all my mood swings
the last few years but you did. You provide our team with the direction and
focus to win. It took us a while to get the hang of each other, but when we
did, we were unstoppable.” I gestured toward the trophy. “I think that trophy
there says it all. I know I can be difficult to work with,” I rolled my eyes
when he arched his eyebrow. “
...
so
thank you. Everyone at Riley Racing who comes to the track or those of you who
are behind the scenes, thank you. You’re the best. Tony, Harry, my grandpa who
provides our engines, you guys put up with my inability to ever be satisfied
with the car, which I know is a pain in the ass. Simplex Shocks and
Springs
, without you none of this would be possible. Thank
you so much for sticking behind us this year as our sponsor and sponsoring my
sprint car team. The fans,
thank you
, without you guys, this sport wouldn’t
be what it is today.”

I looked toward Tate
and Bobby. “Tate
...
you took a chance on a
smug kid who smoked you on the track,” he laughed out-loud along with Bobby.
“Thank you as well for knocking some sense into me at times.” Tate dipped his
head and clapped. “Bobby, you are one of the most magnanimous people I think
I’ve ever met besides my mother. As a teammate, you’re the best there is and as
a driver you’re incredibly talented. I’m lucky to have you to learn from.”

My head bowed taking in
a deep unsteady breath, tears burning my eyes and the vulnerability I tried to
hide was there for everyone to see and judge.

Don’t cry on national
television. Don’t cry.

“This season, after a
very unfortunate event
...
” I drew in another
deep breath trying not to let the memories and images overtake me. “I set out
determined to race the perfect season in an attempt to hide the pain I was
feeling and prove that I could do it. Someone very special to me asked me to
win, to be the kid she met when she was eleven. So for her, for myself, I put
everything else aside. I put that anger, that resentment I felt toward it into
winning.” I looked down at my feet, shifting my weight as I swallowed over the
insanely large lump in my throat. “Sway
...
my
wife
...
” my voice cracked and
I couldn’t help it any longer when my eyes finally looked up and met hers.

She was sitting there,
her eyes focused on mine in the most beautiful black dress I’d ever seen her in
besides our wedding day. Her porcelain skin stood out in contrast to the black
and the mahogany of her hair. She smiled closing her eyes, her hands resting on
our child inside her.

“Honey, you’ve been
there for me since I was eleven and I never really thought about what that
really meant to me until Daytona. I never thought I would ever get here but I
did, because of you and my family. When I left home at seventeen to pursue my
dream—everyone thought I was just some wide-eyed kid with an attitude but I was
far from that, because of you. Every time I’ve thought about quitting, it’s
been you who has brought me back, showing me this is what I was
meant
to
do. You are my best friend. All of this was for you my beautiful girl. Thank
you
...
for everything.” I felt
tears slip down my cheeks as my hands fumbled with the podium. “I never thought
the day would come when I could finally call you my wife
...
but that day did come, and I can
honestly say you make me the happiest man alive. I love you.”

Breathing a sigh of
relief, I looked out into the crowd as they clapped.

To me,
this,
was worth all those sacrifices racing on the edge.

I was a champion.

There is more to
life than simply increasing speed.

~
Ghandi

Turn the page for a
sneak peek into The Champion available September 11, 2012

Racing on the Edge

The Champion

It’s hard to see
past the speed when

you’re
going 200 MPH.

A novel by Shey
Stahl

Racing on the Edge

The Champion

It’s hard to see past the speed when

you’re
going 200 MPH.

1.
                  
Window
Net – Sway