by Shey Stahl
I laughed, too, leaning against the table. Same teasing we always had. My hands felt jittery again, like they were shaking and I wouldn’t be able to grip anything, had I tried. Thankfully, I wasn’t holding the box in front of me any longer, because at that point, I might have dropped it.
“Jesus…like what?”
Long and lean, his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back against the wall behind the table. “Like you’re happy to see me.”
“What if I am?”
“Then I’d say let’s test out the durability of the table,” he raised an eyebrow, “if you want.”
You have no idea, buddy.
Thoughts of me clearing this table surfaced. No, they took over. I wanted to shove those boxes of JAR Hoodies onto the floor.
Winking at him, I closed the box of sweatshirts only to have him reach for them and give a nod down the hall to the office.
He was going to carry them for me. Only, he wanted me walking in front of him. With light quick steps, I practically ran to the office, hating the fact he was probably staring at my ass the entire time, but also loving it.
When we stepped inside the office, I flipped the light on and Rager set the boxes on the table. I thought for sure he’d leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he relaxed, adjusting his hat so his eyes were more visible, which did nothing for me wanting to blurt out, I'm nearly single!
“What did you do during the off season?”
I was trying to make conversation and not talk about fucking against sprint cars and tables.
Rager leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, again. “Worked on my house most of the time.”
His bruised hand caught my attention, my eyes focused on it and he laughed, knowing I was going to ask. Around his knuckles there appeared to be cuts healing, and around that, brown and yellow bruising.
“Is that why your hand is all busted up?”
“Yeah, hit it with a hammer a few times.” A grin tugged at his lips when he knew I knew it was a lie, but he covered that up with a joke. “Apparently, you gotta pay attention when you're poundin’ nails.”
I laughed, knowing that was a sexual reference meant to make me blush.
“How’s the house coming?”
Rager’s head fell forward, his shoulders shaking with light laughter at my weak attempt. “Pretty good. My dad and I have it in the framing stage finally.”
“That’s great.”
Rager nodded, looking around the office and then back at me. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else. So I did. “Do you have plans for the rest of the afternoon?”
Why would you ask him that?
Because you’re hoping his plans might be staying in town. I knew when there was a meet and greet, or he had something to do in Mooresville at the shop, Rager stayed around town. Living in Sarver, he didn’t exactly make a day trip out of venturing south.
Picking up the issue of Racer’s Edge that was sitting on the table, Rager flipped it open to the feature story on my dad, scanning the photographs. “I promised Abigale I would take her to the park and then to put flowers on Jack’s grave.”
The mere mention of Jack took my breath away. It’d been four months since he passed away, and it certainly didn’t get any easier thinking that my nephew was gone. It made me realize how fragile life was and how short our time here really was.
I smiled gently at him. “That’s nice of you to do that.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t been back in a while, so I thought it’d be good, and I wanted to give Lane and Bailey a little time alone.”
Lane was my cousin, and neighbor. Abigale, his only daughter, was in love with Rager. I understood the attraction.
“Yeah, I took Abigale and the boys the other day. It was sad, but nice. Abigale likes to make sure all the flowers are perfectly aligned.”
“She picked out a butterfly for him.” Still glancing through the magazine, the corners of his mouth twisted into a smile. “Said it had wings like him.”
“The stuff they think of. I guess Jacen gave him a dump truck for Christmas, so he could dig his way out.”
Rager set the magazine down on the table, but didn’t look at me. “How are they doing?”
“As good as can be expected, I guess. Apparently, Axel isn’t racing this year though.”
Rager looked at me in surprise, his eyebrows pulling together. “Wow, really?”
Reaching for my bag on the table, I gave a nod to the door, silently letting him know I was leaving. “Yeah…” I didn’t know Axel’s reasons for wanting to quit racing, but I imagined it had something to do with Lily.
“So who’s racing for him?” The both of us walked out of the office and down the hall to the parking lot when Rager pulled his keys out of his pocket.
“Not sure. Dad hasn’t put anyone in the car. I think he’s gonna talk to you guys about it.”
Rager nodded, still walking when we opened the back door and stepped out into the cool winter day. It felt unusually chilly, but the sun was shining down, melting away the frost of the morning.
“You wanna go with us?” Rager asked, giving a wave to his truck parked ten spaces down from mine.
Watchful of my steps in the parking lot and looking for ice patches, I never looked up at him. I’d landed on my ass in this parking lot too many times. “Yeah, I’d like that. I bought Jack a race car the other day I wanted to give him.”
It felt somewhat weird to go anywhere with Rager. Didn’t matter if we were walking to concession stands or going to my nephew’s grave. There was so much history between us, and the fact that I knew he had feelings for me and I had them for him, made everything awkward.
And then there was the fact that I was technically getting divorced and I hadn’t told him. I wondered how that would change us. So many times I thought to myself, he’s going to find someone else. At some point, he is going to move on and forget me, then what?
But he didn’t, and after a while, I wondered why he held on for so long?
Would I have done the same if I was him?
“HOW’S EASTON?”
I almost laughed out loud, but didn’t. “Do you actually care?”
Rager shook his head as we sat beside Jack’s grave on a concrete bench my dad made a few weeks before Christmas. “No, not really. Just making conversation around the kid that’s appropriate.”
Looking over at Abigale, I knew she was occupied with the flowers. We picked her up at Lane’s house about an hour ago, took her for some hot chocolate and then came here.
I leaned in closer, his scent of cologne and all boy making me weak. Rager always smelled so good, whether it be racing fuel and sweat, or the days where he actually put on cologne. My brow scrunched together. “What wouldn’t be appropriate?”
“Me asking what color your panties are,” he whispered, bumping my shoulder with his and gauging my reaction.
“And me telling you, would that be inappropriate?”
“Hmmm, no, I think it’d just be—”
“Rager?” Abigale called out.
Rager smiled and tipped his head back to look at her standing behind him. “Yeah, pretty princess?”
“I need you to fix that flower.” She pushed her potted flower at him, spilling dirt in his lap. “It loppy.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked at the pot. “You mean floppy?”
“Yes, fix it, please,” she whined, but at least used her manners. That was more than I could say for Gray. When she wanted something, it was a demand, nothing more.
Brushing the dirt off his legs with a few swipes of his hands, he then set the pot in his lap, arranging the flowers by propping the floppy one up with a small stick.
When he was finished, he handed it back to the pretty princess. The way she looked at Rager made me smile. Lane liked to tease that his daughter loved Rager more than him. When you saw them like this, you’d think that too. Such adoration on both parts.
“What's your fav
orite color?” he asked, giving me a nod, his voice a seductive whisper.
“Today…it’d be light pink.”
Rager groaned, his head tilting back.
Grinning, at his visible regret for knowing my panty color, I decided it was time to tell him how much time we would be spending together. “I got some bad news for you.”
His head snapped back up. “What?”
“I’m going to be traveling with the series full-time this year. Jerry hired me to handle the social media advertisement and merchandise.”
I wasn’t sure the reaction I would get from Rager on me being around all the time. “What happened to Katy?”
“She took a job with a Northwest tour.”
Rager seemed to think about it for a minute, and then I knew he was about to be inappropriate when he leaned closer, his warm breath against my skin. “Did you take the job for you…or me?”
My eyes darted to his and I knew what that comment was about. He was covering up the nervousness he felt about me being around more.
“Me. Why would you ask that?”
“What does Easton think of this?”
I chewed on my lip before speaking, Rager’s eyes darted from my lips to my eyes, and then stayed there as I spoke. “He doesn’t know yet.”
Rager’s hand moved from his lap to scratch the top of his head, and then he gave a smile, never saying any more.
I wanted to beg him to tell me what he thought about it, but then again, did I want that answer?
Siping the tire - Siping means to cut the sprint car Tire's blocks with a razor blade. Siping will assist the tire build up heat quicker, which will help the tire reach its optimum operating temperature. Once this temperature is reached, siping will also assist in heat dissipation. Siping is usually done on hard compound tires. The sipes will help create graining of the tire, which will stop the tire sealing over. Very soft compounds should not be siped. Special siping tools are available, which allow the depth of the cut to be controlled.
I WASN’T SURE what Easton would do when we flew out to Daytona together, and then I was set to head to Volusia Speedway. It’d be the first time I wasn’t with him at the Daytona 500.
How did he want me to act? Were we acting in love? I knew my family wasn’t going to buy it unless I played along. Everything was already different. Mostly because the energetic seven-year-old that usually captivated all of us on the plane wasn’t there.
When I looked around, it was clear how much everyone had changed from that day. More noticeably, the calmness around us, but it was in the way we looked for the change and wondered if it would ever be the same again.
On my dad’s private plane surrounded by the rest of our family, Easton nudged my elbow. “Are you going to say anything?” He gestured with a nod to my hand, the one still wearing the ring he gave me, though it essentially meant nothing but a broken promise we made and couldn’t keep.
There was one promise he desperately wanted me to keep now. That I not tell anyone we were getting divorced and we had filed for a legal separation two days ago. Our divorce wouldn’t be final for a year.
How was I supposed to feel about this?
I wasn’t relieved. I was worried that we couldn’t keep this a secret.
“No.” Looking down at my hand again, I placed it back in my lap. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” I whispered, leaving over to kiss his shoulder for the affect.
Sighing, Easton gave a nod, his chest puffed out as he moved in the seat, seeming uncomfortable.
He’d taken some hard hits last season that left him with some residual back pain. Reaching inside his bag at my feet, I handed him the bottle of anti-inflammatory medication he had.
Barely acknowledging me, he reached for the bottle, withdrawing two pills.
He didn’t even say thank you.
Jerk.
Leaning forward, he took the bottle of water in his cup holder and downed the pills in his palm. His ring caught my eyes, once again, and I wondered then if he ever took it off. Given he probably took it off to race, but any other time?
More than likely he didn’t, because he didn’t want anyone knowing we were in trouble. For the longest time, even he denied it. Now it was unavoidable.
Even my mother sitting across from us noticed and kept giving me that look. The one that said, “Honey, I’m here if you need me.”
But, unfortunately, I couldn’t even say anything to her.
Turning my attention toward my phone, I went over my emails once more from Jerry on all the things I needed to do when I arrived in Florida.
When we landed, my parents were heading to Palm Coast while Easton was heading into Daytona. “You’re not going to Daytona?” he asked.
He knew I was going to the opening nights of the Outlaws. Besides that, he wasn’t racing until Sunday. Why would I need to hang out at the track until then?
“I have to be in Volusia this weekend. I’ll be at the race on Sunday.”
Easton rolled his eyes and turned around, heading for the car waiting for him. “Sure you will.”
Fucker. He wanted me to keep a secret for him, but yet, he was being a dick. I had half a mind to flip him off, but my dad was standing not more than ten feet from us, loading bags into the back of the Expedition by the plane. “You coming with us?”
“Yeah.” I jogged over to meet them.
When I was inside the truck, Mom looked over at me, her brow scrunched. “You okay?”
I smiled, fake and deliberate. “I’m fine.”
I wasn’t fine.
FRIDAY MORNING, I left the hotel I was staying at and headed to the track to meet up with Jerry Sprague. His brother, Tyler, raced the Outlaws for years but had recently retired full-time and ran a sprint car racing school in Texas now. Jerry, however, stayed involved with the tour.
The start of the race season was always stressful for everyone involved, sponsors, owners, crews and families. The drivers struggled to find rhythm and setups that worked for them. New crew guys struggled to fit in with others if they made changes. Lucky for the guys of JAR Racing, they didn’t change all that often and usually stayed with the same team. And the families of those drivers struggled with either accepting their loved one was on the road until October, or they adjusted to life on the road.
What changed was Axel wasn’t racing. While we all found ourselves at Volusia Speedway Park on Valentine’s Day for the start of the three day event starting the next day, Axel was in Disney World with Lily and the boys.
Part of me didn’t blame him for walking away. The other part was disappointed because he gave up his passion for her. I loved Lily. She was a great sister-in-law, but I didn’t agree with her telling him to quit or else. I didn’t know if there was an or else, but the way Dad told us, it was he quit or she was quitting.
I managed to keep to myself Thursday night while everyone unloaded and prepared for Friday night’s races. Jerry and I had a lot to go over with me starting the new job.
Other than what I did for my dad with JAR Racing and Easton’s fan club, I’d never held a job with anyone but family. The concept was strange to me. I was paid for what I did for JAR Racing and designing their merchandise, and my dad paid me well for that. Probably more than he should have.
Now though, with the World of Outlaws, I’d be making my own money, which felt like I actually had a job.
Jerry met me at the hotel in Palm Coast. I had a room booked there as did most of our family.
I would be lying if I didn’t check the itinerary for JAR Racing to see if Rager was staying at a hotel here. He wasn’t.
He usually took his motor home when he could. He preferred to have his own space. He was private like that. Some thought he was anti-social, but out of all the guys, he was at every JAR event and outside function whether it be BBQ’s or birthday parties, he always made an appearance.
When I made it to my room, I quickly put away my bag and then met Jerry in the lobby. I was so nervous I changed
my clothes twice, though I’d known Jerry for years.
It all went back to the fact this was my first job, and I wanted to prove that, yeah, the only daughter of Jameson Riley had more to offer than a job with the family business or as Easton Levi’s wife. I was good at merchandise sales and communication, even though I couldn’t communicate anything in my own life.
I was also familiar with their social media needs and where the series needed to grow and how to get them there. Not only had I taken care of the JAR Racing merchandise since I was sixteen, I had successfully managed Easton’s from the ground up, and still did even though I wasn’t at the track. To do that and never needing to be there, that took talent. Talent I seemed to have.
It was around noon when I met up with Jerry in the hotel lobby before heading to the track. Jerry looked a lot like Tyler, black hair, brown eyes, and worn beyond his years from spending his life on the road. He’d seen a few too many dinners from the concessions stands, but he was a nice guy.
His first question for me since I accepted the job as the Merchandising Manager?
“How does your husband feel about you being on the road without him?”
Laughing lightly, I sat across from him at a small table in the lobby restaurant watching the people file in and out of the lobby, some rushing to get checked in or out, others taking their time. “He’s fine with it.”
Jerry went straight into my duties from there. “Now you’ll be working the merchandise hauler, and then reporting the main events on social media when at the track. When not there, we’re going to have you working with the World Racing Group on the designs for visual elements and being the lead communication for the concepts.”
I nodded to everything he was saying. It was pretty much everything I’d been doing last year when Katy decided it was time she stay closer to home. Traveling this much wasn’t always ideal.
WHEN FRIDAY NIGHT rolled around and I was at the track, everything I had agreed to earlier seemed dumb. I wasn’t sure one person could do it all and stay sane.
I knew it was going to be different traveling with the Outlaws full-time and Jerry wasn’t making it easy on me. He had me running around so much I couldn’t spend a lot of time in the pits. Managing the merchandise hauler left little time during the race to check on the guys, but I did.
