by Stahl, Shey
I don’t think Kyle knew what to do so he scrambled to adjust his headset.
“Sorry bud, uh...ten laps to go.” He gave me a glance like I was clinically insane but smiled despite this.
I’m not sure what Jameson was saying but Kyle was lying. “Don’t worry, it was nothing. I just dropped the headset.”
I shook my head and watched as Jameson’s black number nine car flew past us on the front-stretch. Mason moved around Kyle to sit next to me. I watched as Tommy hung by the pit wall to get a better look at the cars when they came by. At tracks like Daytona, you can only see them on the front-stretch when you’re watching from the grid.
“So you’re Sway?” Mason asked peeking over his clipboard.
“Yeah, and you’re Mason.”
“Jameson talks about you a lot.” He grinned, his smile boyish. “So does Spencer and Emma.”
“What can I say—I’m awesome.”
Mason laughed, as did Kyle.
“He’s freaking out right now.” Kyle said motioning toward his headset. “You guys might want to watch this.” He gestured with a flick of his wrist at the laptop they had opened to the broadcasting station.
I glanced over at it to see Jameson drafting with Bobby only Jameson was leading.
“Holy shit!” I yelled and practically sat on Kyle’s lap to get a good view of the screen. “He’s leading!”
“That’s what he just said.”
By the looks on their faces, I couldn’t have made my obsession any more obvious.
Chicane – Jameson
I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I was leading a pack of cars at Daytona International Raceway, in a race. Yeah it wasn’t the Daytona 500 but it was even better, it was a race with the best of the best, the Budweiser shootout. I shouldn’t have even been in the race but by setting the fastest time, I was picked as the wild card. So there I was, racing with past winners, pole sitters and past champions.
“Is this the last lap?” I asked Kyle when we crossed the start/finish line.
“Yeah,”
Tate and his teammate, Austin Yale, teamed up beside Bobby and me on the inside. They had the preferred line coming out of turn two. “Inside on the line, ten cars got a run...inside at your door...clear.”
Tate took over position but he did something I least expected him to do; he shot over in front of me on the outside instead of teaming up with Austin again. I wasn’t sure what to do so I drafted with him. Bobby stayed right behind me and Austin swung in line behind him creating a four-car line coming to the green.
I had two options. Stay where I was, or try to pass. I knew Bobby would follow but I wasn’t sure my car could pass Tate, he was strong. He did just pass me outside of the draft, there wasn’t enough time to make a move so I stayed where I was, second place.
I grinned when I saw the checkered flag. I just ran a race with the legends of stock car racing and placed second.
I’d say that’s respectable.
I hated not winning, I don’t know of any racer that didn’t, but when you think about, what experience did I have in race trim on a track like Daytona?
None.
I’d never raced a cup race before this and to finish second, I shouldn’t be complaining. I think the part that upset me the most was the fact that I could have won, there just wasn’t enough time.
Tate waved when I pulled up next to him, as did I. I’d finish second to a guy like him any day. This just goes back to my feelings about that Triple Crown Championship over Justin, you want to win so badly but you also know that means beating a guy who wants it just as badly.
When I pulled down the grid, still smiling, I removed my helmet while Spencer pulled my window net down. That’s when I heard a familiar giggle. My head shot up, my eyes glancing around figuratively; no one else had that giggle.
Sway.
I’m almost certain I got out of that car quicker than I would have if it was on fire and had her secured in my arms.
“You lied to me.” I breathed against her neck.
“No, I didn’t.” she giggled. “I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.” She pulled back to look at me. “I was in Atlanta, getting ready to board the plane, when you called.”
I still hadn’t let go of her. Instead, I pulled her against my chest tighter.
“Thank you...thank you so much for coming honey.”
“Did you honestly think I’d miss Daytona two years in a row, let alone,” Her eyebrow arched derisively. “your first cup race?”
“No but...you’re busy these days.”
“I’m never too busy for you.” She assured me kissing my cheek.
Dad was at my car after that so I couldn’t kiss her the way I wanted to. “Good job kid.” He smiled.
“Thanks.” I pulled Sway closer and tucked her under my arm.
She giggled. “You’re wet.”
“I’m sweating.” Her eyes focused on mine when I spoke. “It happens.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, just stood there beside me as I did a few post-race interviews. When the last reporter left she reached up and kissed my cheek again.
“I’m so proud of you!”
I had other plans and pulled her aside out of the public eye. We walked back to my motor coach; I kicked Spencer and Aiden out and brought Sway inside. After a few beers, I wasn’t thinking, neither was she and before we knew it we were making out on the bed in the back.
She deserved so much better than this and I couldn’t just have sex with her.
What would happen if I did?
All the times we’d been like this with each other, she never stopped me and that scared me. If I instigated it, she went with it. If I pulled away, so did she. After a few minutes, I was ready to ask for more, take more, and oh did I want more.
Her body moved against mine in a desperate way pulling me against her. Her soft hands swept over my shoulders and down the contours of my back. I let a whimper pulling her hard against me. My mouth moved from its place against her neck back to her warm lips, moving frantically. Lust began drowning any rational thoughts I had about this and I was scrambling to gain control.
Her arousal was evident, as was mine but how could I take this from her?
This would change everything. The worst part about it was she was leaving in a few weeks. It wouldn’t be anything more than what I had with other women and I wanted more from Sway. I didn’t want a one-time thing. Did she?
No, she couldn’t want that.
Unconsciously, my hand moved from her breast to the button of my jeans and she moaned arching against me. I froze, that moan made me comprehend what exactly was happening. I couldn’t do this. She deserved better. She wasn’t just another pit lizard. This was Sway, my best friend.
I moved my hand from her waist to run through her hair lightly skimming the apple of her cheek. My gentle touch elicited a moan of pleasure from her.
It was hard to pull away. Her legs were wrapped around my waist and her hips moving against mine. I briefly contemplated just giving her pleasure but I also knew I wouldn’t stop. It’d been almost a year since I’d been with anyone and I was close already just by her hips wiggling against mine. I also knew that seeing her pleasure, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself and she was far too willing.
Miraculously, with some herculean self-control, I managed to pull away from her.
It took me a moment to calm my need and hormones but I did and finally looked down at her. Sway’s cheeks were flushed—her eyes half closed as she scrambled to sit up. “Sorry.” She mumbled running her hand through her long hair once.
I sighed heavily.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sorry. I always attack you.”
“Well I’m not any better—you didn’t see me stopping you.”
“True.” I smiled.
We were both silent for a few minutes before I chuckled. No matter how hard I tried, I wanted her—it was undeniable.
“Are you tired?”
I asked trying to turn the focus from my desire.
“Yeah,” she yawned.
“Come here.” I motioned for her to come closer. “You can sleep here.”
We did sleep. Surprisingly we only slept. I forgot how nice it felt to have her in my arms and the fact that she came to see me, made it so much better.
I barely had any time with all my sponsorship obligations but in the evenings I was able to hang out with Sway. The trip was so unexpected for her that she didn’t have time to get a hotel room so she stayed in the motor coach with me. I wasn’t complaining.
Tommy ended up sleeping on the couch a few nights before getting a hotel room with the rest of the team. I wasn’t the easiest person to stay with. Luckily, Sway found humor in my OCD tendencies, Tommy did not.
We hung out by the motor coach at night, usually Cal, my motor coach driver, cooked dinner for us. He was awesome. Anything you could dream of wanting to eat was stocked in the motor coach for us. Cal could throw down some wicked meals at the drop of a hat too. For a group of guys like ours, it was appreciated.
There wasn’t a lot of privacy between the motor coaches, but it also provided a sense of comradeship between the drivers.
Much like the team haulers, the motor coaches lined up side-by-side each other in the compound (different from the paddock where the haulers are located) which is a secured area for the drivers to stay that you had to show special passes to get in and don’t ever forget your pass.
Even if you are a well-known driver and dressed in a racing suit, they will not let you in without that pass. I did this once racing in the Busch series. I was not happy that I was dressed in my uniform and they still wouldn’t let me in just because I forgot my pass. I ended up having Spencer go get my pass. He took his sweet ass time and then when I showed the pass to the official, he made sure he called to the NASCAR hauler to make sure it was legit.
I wasn’t impressed.
The week seemed to fly by and before I knew if, it was time for the Duel 125’s that Thursday night.
I did good, placed fourth, which gave me a good start for the 500 on Sunday. Now I needed to prepare myself. This was the biggest race of my career. I knew that, as did everyone else, including the media but they had this habit of reminded me all week; everyone but Sway.
She was just there, constantly assuring me I could do this and offering her advice when I asked for it. Bobby and Tate were there too, offering up any pointers they had and helping me with drafting throughout the practice sessions. Like I said before, drafting was an art.
Chicane – Sway
Unlike pit road, where everything was business only, the garage area was slightly more laid back. You would often see a driver chatting with other drivers or goofing around with one another. With the Riley Racing team, there was a lot of goofing around.
“No, Spencer. That’s the wrong size splitter.” Aiden took the splitter from him and handed him another one.
I had never met Aiden until this week and I already loved the country boy and saw why Emma was so attracted to him. Not that I was attracted to him physically because I wasn’t—I just found him completely fascinating. I never knew someone with his analytical thinking and found myself instigating it just as much as Jameson and Spencer did.
The garage was filled with cars, each lined up side-by-side with their respective numbers identified above each bay. Jameson’s team was making some last minute adjustments before the final practice sessions. Harry and Kyle hunched over the hood making notes on their clips boards and checking temperatures. I contemplated leaving. I couldn’t handle Jameson saying the word piston stroking again—once was enough.
Tony checked air pressure readings while Shane and Josh made sure everyone had the tools they needed.
“That’s not the right one.” Jameson handed them the correct splitter and Aiden took it and gave Spencer the other one again. “If you do that again, I’ll punch you in the face.”
“According to the rules, that’s the right one,” Spencer pointed to the splitter on the floor next to the rear tires. “Both of you numb-nuts are wrong.”
Jameson sighed and shook his head.
I kept watching them humorously from the doorway for about three more minutes before Spencer noticed me.
“There you are.” He turned to face me. “Tell this asshole he was wrong.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this.” I wrapped an arm around Jameson.
“Okay, get your hands off so that we can finish this.” Aiden pulled us apart. “You still need to test this out.”
“Save me,” Jameson mouthed as Aiden pushed him to the other side of the car.
I just waved and went back to the motor coach to find Emma.
Daytona was such a large venue that it was easy to get lost, as I did. Inside the race loop there was the garage area that I just came from. The restricted garage area is where all the cars are kept and worked on throughout the race weekend.
Once again, you needed a special pass to walk through that area. NASCAR was big on passes that’s for sure. Everywhere you walked someone was asking to see your pass.
I learned quickly there were three types of passes. You needed either a hot pass which took you everywhere; a cold pass that took you to the garage area and pit lane prior to the race; and then there was a one-time walk through pass that allowed you a walk through the garage area prior to the race and then you were kicked out.
This weekend I was sporting a hot pass so I was able to go everywhere. This is how I got lost.
I saw the sign for the garage area sign-in. So basically—I just went in a loop. Then I saw the NASCAR hauler. NASCAR hauled around a big red hauler that served as the official’s command post as well as sign in for the drivers. This was also the principal’s office as I referred to it. If a driver was ever summoned to the NASCAR hauler to discuss his actions, this is where he went.
I spotted Tommy’s orange hair when I walked past the hauler and sighed in relief. Before I could get to him a tall raven haired woman approached me.
“Excuse me Miss?” she said with a smile that I was sure I would only ever see on a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.
“Yes,” I replied and kept walking toward Tommy.
“Are you Jameson Riley’s girlfriend or something?” she glanced down at the pass around my neck. “Oh, you have a paper pass.”
“Paper what?” I looked down at the pass blowing with the slight breeze in the air. “And no, I’m just a friend.” My eyes focused on the pass around her neck, it appeared to be a hard plastic pass with the words press across it and her picture.
“Oh, okay.” She said with another smile and then walked away as if nothing just happened.
Tommy spotted me and ran up to me. “Hey, I thought I lost you.”
“You did.”
“Who was that?” I glanced behind me and saw her walk inside the media center. “She said I was paper.”
“Paper?”
“Yes, paper.”
Tommy looked more confused than me at what just occurred until Emma found us.
“Hey,” Emma smiled. “Jameson is looking for you.”
“What’s paper?” we both asked Emma noticing the pass around her neck was a hard plastic like a credit card.
“Oh, some passes are temporary so they’re paper. They only get you in this weekend. If you have a hard pass, like this one,” she held the pass up. “It gets you into every race. You don’t have to stand at the credential sign in. You just walk right in after you show them the pass.”
That made sense but why did that woman make a big deal out of it. I was only here for the weekend. Naturally, I wouldn’t need a hard pass.
“Is that some sort of status thing among women?” I asked Emma as we walked back to the compound area.
“I’ve heard it is. Most of the drivers bring girls to the races and give them paper passes for the weekend. Some of the wives and girlfriends around here believe you’re just a pit lizard with a pass
until you get the hard card. They’re expensive so obviously a driver doesn’t just shell them out to just anyone and the owners are the only people authorized to purchase them.”
“So she thinks I’m a pit lizard?”
“Pretty much,” Emma replied like this was no big deal. I was less than pleased but when you think about it, I guess I was kind of a pit lizard these days. Sure, I wasn’t trashy like most of them but I didn’t follow Jameson around like he was the mythical idolized creature he was to me.
Pathetic.
Tommy laughed when we entered the motor coach mumbling something about me being a pit lizard. He didn’t get to finish his sentence though. My fist in his stomach ensured that.
I did a little more observing into those so called, “Plastic Passes” the women seem preoccupied with and found out there were two different passes as Emma indicated that either the wives or the girlfriends wore. If the woman was a permanent fixture in the driver or team’s life, they got a hard plastic pass that had their name, picture and what team they were with.
I wasn’t sure what that chick wanted when she asked me if I was his girlfriend and then observed my pass but these last few days I was constantly being asked if I was his girlfriend by the other driver’s girlfriends and wives. I gave them all the same answer, “Just friends” when I wanted to say “Touch him and die.”
The whole pass thing was enough but really, did everyone have to constantly ask and then stare at the paper pass around my neck? Talk about a bunch of superficial bitches.
The night before the race, Cal fixed dinner for everyone. Grandpa Casten had showed up, which made life interesting to say the least.
Jameson had been a little fidgety with everyone around, but he did well as long as I held his hand. This didn’t go unnoticed by old Casten either when he elbowed Jameson in the side as we sat outside the motor coach.
“Taken the old dermal tool to the crankcase huh?” he smiled nudging his shoulder with his elbow.
I choked on my beer, as did Jameson. “Grandpa!”
“Hey, back in my day...” he paused for a moment and then smiled. “Hell, I don’t remember what I was going to say.”
