Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  I left after finishing breakfast to meet with Melissa at the Simplex hospitality tent. When I returned I walked toward the hauler to see Sway standing there dressed in a red dress that I wanted to rip off with my goddamn teeth. I hoped like hell she wasn’t wearing that all day.

  Kyle was saying something to me but I just gave him a blank expression until he punched my arm.

  I was distracted, that was unmistakable but in my defense, she was revealing a lot of skin. Skin I desperately wanted my hands, mouth and any other body part just to feel her against me.

  “I’ve got a new rule,” Kyle leaned against the hauler crossing his arms over his burly chest. “No girls in your pit.”

  “Why would you do a thing like that?”

  He smiled. “To keep you focused.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” I watched as Sway strode away with Emma and Alley back to the motor coach.

  “She’s something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s all fast-talking and brusque, wouldn’t want to mess with her.”

  “You have no idea. You should have seen what the little shit did to me last night.”

  Kyle and I headed for the drivers meeting after that and met dad there. Usually the only ones allowed in the meeting were the driver, crew chief and owner and if you were late, you started at the tail end of the field.

  On the way there, I hoped that I placed well in points next year. For one, I wanted to, being the single-minded guy I was and two, it’s a long ass walk anywhere you went. The team haulers were lined up by the previous year’s points, being a new team—guess where are hauler was parked?

  Yep, last.

  I listened in the drivers meeting but lost interest. NASCAR ran their meetings more formally than your average dirt track but they were still boring to me.

  Everything changed each year in NASCAR. Rules change, drivers change, sponsors change, the schedule changes...I changed. I was no longer the kid I was when I began racing. I was now a Winston Cup driver with a multimillion-dollar contract backing me.

  You know back when I raced USAC and Outlaws and I thought I had stress just trying to become Jameson Riley. That’s laughable now. I had no fucking clue what responsibility was then. I’m not sure I did now but I had constant reminders of how I could easily fuck things up. I still didn’t want to be known as Jimi Riley’s son and with him now being the car owner, I still got that from time to time but it was better. In NASCAR, I was making the name.

  I thought about the times racing quarter midgets, telling myself that I’d be happy if I was racing full sized midgets or mini sprints. Once I was in those, I wanted full-sized sprint cars and so on.

  Now I was at the top of stock car racing, what did I want? I wanted to win. I wanted to win that Rookie of the Year and I wanted to win the championship. No driver had ever won the championship in their rookie season, I wanted to.

  On the way back to the hauler after the drivers meeting, I ran into Darrin.

  Apparently, I bumped him in practice and he felt the need to express his distaste for this. It went something along the lines of, “Hit me again and I show you how that wall tastes,”

  I never did respond to him as fans began to surround us. I learned to pick my battles with him and it wasn’t worth it right then.

  I’d gotten a lot of advice from other drivers on racing in the cup series but they failed to mention what happened when you got out of the car. Suddenly reporters, fans and in my case, other drivers I’d pissed off at some point during the race were in my face.

  I couldn’t offer them much, even in interviews I never knew what to say but when other veteran drivers would approach me and ask why I came down on them or took their line...I didn’t know what to say to them. I never did it on purpose but I was an aggressive driver, out there, I didn’t think about what happened when I got in the pits until Jimi pulled me aside a few days after the Budweiser Shootout, “Jameson, be careful.” He advised. “You don’t want to piss off the veterans or any driver for that matter. You never know when that guy just may be your boss or teammate.”

  That made sense to me, it did, but I also didn’t want to be the driver that was pushed around. Finding a middle ground was hard but I took to guys like Bobby and Tate and watched them closely on how they dealt with it. Bobby was reserved and shied away from the media at all costs but Tate was in their face telling them what he thought about this or that.

  Clearly, I was going to need to do some more observing.

  During the duel 125’s, I got bumped by Doug Dunham, a veteran driver on the series and ended cutting a tire. I ended up getting my spot back but it still pissed me off that he did that, it’s not like he didn’t know I was there.

  I had never been afraid to tell someone exactly what I thought of them but I wasn’t exactly in the place to be telling a veteran driver that he had no right to bump me in the corner. Ordinarily, I had no problem with this but with Dunham, he was a veteran driver in the sport and had a hell of a lot more clout than I did, so I bit my tongue and simply gave him a head nod after the race. I think he knew I wasn’t happy about it.

  When I reached the hauler prior to the team meeting Kyle was laughing at me once again as Sway strode past me still wearing that damn dress.

  Looking away, I was starting to get irritated with all his laughing at my expense and really, I was having a hard time, I didn’t need him laughing at me.

  “We’ve made a collective decision: You need to tell that girl how you feel.”

  “Well let’s say hypothetically, maybe, let’s say probably that I feel that way...it doesn’t change anything.”

  “You never know.” I didn’t want to be talking about this with Kyle but over last year, he had become a good friend of mine.

  If I couldn’t talk about this with him who could I?

  “What will it change? I don’t have time for a relationship.” I sighed. “Do you know when the last day was that I had time for myself?”

  “But you had time for pit lizards.”

  “That was different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well for one—they don’t want more. They only want sex and there was no strings attached.”

  “Maybe that’s what Sway wants.”

  I had no response for him, I’d never thought about that but then again, why would she want something like that?

  Or did she? She didn’t have time for a relationship either.

  Well that throws a wrench in my thinking, doesn’t it?

  22. Diffuser – Jameson

  Diffuser - The bodywork at the rear underside of the car that controls the underbody airflow as it exits the back of the car. A good diffuser generates significant down force.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what Kyle suggested and the thought wasn’t absurd to me. What if she didn’t want strings attached? What if all she wanted was what we had and nothing more?

  We were friends yes, but what if we could have something more without the complications. It was noticeable the sexual attraction was there between both of us so why not?

  I wanted to be alone with her for a few minutes before the race started but when I returned after my interview with SPEED, she was gone.

  It didn’t take long to find her though as she still had on the red dress.

  Prior to the start of the race, Sway was sitting on the edge of the wall looking over at the steep banking of turn one.

  Her eyes were closed as the slight steady Florida breeze blew through her mahogany locks that cascaded down, framing her beautiful face. It was as though she was in a trance. She gripped the concrete barrier with her fingertips and her legs dangled off the side as she slipped her flip-flops on and off.

  I stared at her, my gaze locked on her lithe form as she smiled back at me. It was as if a spotlight was stuck directly on her and that’s all I noticed, soft and warm, like an aura. In the raucous of the grid behind me, I could only see her; pure tranquility.

  For a moment,
I was held rooted to the ground as I felt the immediate draw to her. A magnetic pull drew me toward her, the feeling hot and caustic in my stomach. In a daze, I began to make my way to her, pushing through the mass or reporters.

  I paused a few feet in front of her; the warm humid air blew across my face, dampening my skin. The smells of the engines and exhaust mixed with the warm moist air. The hums of racing was all around us as they always were but that’s what defined us, defined me and defined her.

  It’s what brought us together and always brings us together. Neither of us knew a life outside of racing.

  Sway tilted her head to the side, inhaling a deep breath before giving me a heavily lidded smile.

  I moved closer settling down next to her throwing an arm around her. I wanted to move my mouth next to her ear and tell her just how much I missed her and that she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen but instead I caved, flustered and simply mouthed, “Hi,” when she looked over at me. She answered me with a smile. Her eyes sweeping into mine and I was lost in their beauty, swimming in the deep pools of green.

  I wanted to say so much to her right then but I didn’t; terrified she wouldn’t want to hear it.

  I don’t know why it has taken me so long but I guess it just took me a while to figure out what I wanted or what I wanted to say, more importantly, how to ask for it. You don’t realize how important your choice of words are at times. It can either go smoothly or you can fuck it up with one wrong word. With so much weighing on that, you can see my hesitation here.

  So I remained quiet and stared out at the grandstand teeming with fans.

  It wasn’t long before Alley found me and I was being whisked away to driver introductions while Sway went with Emma.

  Yet another time where I could have said so much but didn’t. With so much weighing on my words, I froze.

  One of the coolest things about the morning of the 500, besides having Sway around, was seeing my grandpa walk out onto the grid with me. His only comment was to poke fun at my driving suit that was plastered with logos.

  “You look ridiculous,” he told me laughing.

  Then he took a long pull from his flask that I was sure was filled with whiskey, his drink of choice.

  “It’s just a driving suit grandpa. It’s designed to keep me safe.”

  “Son, I used to dip my britches in starch to keep from catchin’ on fire...things have advanced since my day.” He sighed and smiled at me. “We didn’t see the dangers of what we were doing, until it was too late.”

  I knew what he meant by that and that was his way of telling me to be safe. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never said anything nice to me. I wasn’t sure how to react.

  Much like uncle Randy, my grandpa is only remotely approachable when he’s drinking, but otherwise, he’s a cold-hearted prick but he was also my grandpa and just like any other Riley, hotheaded.

  “Well doggoned Jay, I knew you’d be here someday.”

  “Thanks grandpa.” I signed a few autographs from some fans who approached me.

  Grandpa lost interest with driver introductions and ditched me for my Nana who showed up as well. I wasn’t nervous until I became aware that my entire family had shown up.

  Bobby must have sensed this and nudged my shoulder standing there waiting to be introduced. “You all right kid?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded looking down. “I’m fine.”

  Bobby had figured me out and knew when I was quiet—I didn’t want to be bothered so he made small talk with Tate and Austin standing behind us in line.

  I only wished the reporters knew how to figure this out too.

  All the reporters seemed to ask the same question, “Can you win?”

  I don’t think of it as can I win because the answer will always be yes. Obviously, I could win—I have many times. Their questions should be, “Could I win the Daytona 500?”

  And even then, my answer would be yes.

  Watching all the pre-race activities going on around us, I found it entertaining that my first cup race was the Daytona 500 because it was the biggest event NASCAR has.

  It’s like the Super Bowl but bigger.

  Glancing around, I saw Darrin glaring in my direction. Rolling my eyes, I looked away. He still wasn’t happy about my frivolous meeting with Mariah, his girlfriend.

  She had approached my car about an hour ago before I found Sway. I looked away but she got right in my face and pushed her tits against my chest and said, “I’m Mariah,” her hand sliding down my arm caused me to flinch back at the unwanted contact. “You should find me after the race.”

  “I don’t think so.” I had replied immediately.

  “Oh come on, Darrin will never know.”

  I removed her arm from my shoulder and handed the autograph back to the fan standing in front of me. “I said no.” I told her sternly and walked away.

  Darrin caught me before I made it too far.

  “What was that about?” his tone was sharp and accusing.

  “What?”

  “Don’t what me you little shit.” He snapped stepping closer. “Stay away from Mariah.”

  “Mariah is it...?” I arched my eyebrow gesturing toward her with a tilt of my head. “...was all over my dick back there. You should tell her to stay away from me,” I snapped at him continuing to walk away.

  “See you on the track, Riley.” He taunted after me.

  “Fuck you,” was my response.

  That rivalry racing USAC hadn’t diminished.

  Anytime you put forty-three drivers together some are going to rub you the wrong way and others become your guide. With Darrin, I guess with me implying his girl was on my dick, he wasn’t going to be my guide.

  Andy Crockett, another rookie driver, rode around the track with me in a Ford truck after being introduced. After a few minutes of silence, I struck up conversation with him.

  “Good luck today.” I told him waving to the screaming crowd. He did the same which seemed to ignite them in some thunderous roars.

  Andy was a quiet respectable guy and he always seemed to choose his words carefully. You never saw him getting into it with other drivers, it wasn’t his style.

  “I’ll need it with you racing.” He grinned.

  Andy had grown up racing stock cars so it surprised me he would think I was better, if that’s what he was thinking, maybe he wasn’t.

  “Nah, you’ll do just fine.”

  “You say that now but...it’s different out there. You know that.”

  “Yeah but I’ve also seen you drive. You didn’t get here by accident.”

  He smiled. “Oh I know that.”

  By now, we were back around the track and heading back to the cars before he leaned over and shook my hand. “Good luck.”

  I just grinned. I absolutely believe that I’m insatiable, more so than most other racers but that’s also how I’ve gotten this far in a callous sport, one that doesn’t leave room for uncertainties. Most don’t understand that burning need to be better but those around me, the other drivers, they did and I was surrounded by them.

  After driver introductions, I headed back to my car to wait for the opening ceremonies to begin and to see Sway.

  Interview after interview, reporters were constantly asking me how I was feeling, if I could win, what I did last night to prepare myself and what I ate for breakfast...It wasn’t until I walked over to get into the car that I started to grasp how big this all was. There were prerace festivities, music, you name it, NASCAR had it and I was somewhere in the middle.

  Diffuser – Sway

  I watched Jameson closely that morning, wondering when he’d break. I couldn’t believe the tout surrounding him and his team. It was unreal. The media was pegging him as a champion already anticipating him winning today.

  The thing that got me was they wanted to put this mold around him, like he was just some cookie-cutter driver conformed to be a certain way, the way they wanted. But that wasn’t Jameson, not by a long shot
. He was one of the truest, most exciting drivers around but he wasn’t fit for a mold.

  They compared him to the younger version of Doug Dunham, a veteran driver and I saw the similarities, but then again, Jameson was inimitable. He knew he could never please everyone so he didn’t try but he could please himself, and that’s exactly what he did.

  I stood there next to his car leaning up against the side. I ran my fingers over the Grays Harbor Raceway sticker he had stuck on there.

  “Reminds me of you,” He whispered in my ear and smiled. His nose skimmed through my hair and I could have sworn he sniffed as he did so.

  “It does?”

  “Well yeah, what else would it remind me of?”

  “Racing,” I said with a shrug.

  “No, well yes it does but I think of you when I look at it.”

  Alley approached us with Lane on her hip. Lane jumped into Jameson’s arms. “Uncle Jay!”

  I laughed. There were only two people who could get away with calling him Jay, his Grandpa (he refused to say his whole name) and Lane, who couldn’t pronounce it yet.

  Other than that, if you wanted him to answer you—you had better use his full name. I had always loved his name so I called him by it. I also knew how much being called Jay bothered him, so I didn’t.

  “Good luck—good luck!” Lane chirped bouncing in his arms and then wrapped his arms tightly around his neck for a hug. I couldn’t think of a better hug than one willingly given by a child.

  Jameson tickled his sides. “Thanks buddy. Are you going to watch me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  He was at the stage where he repeated everything twice. I blamed this on grandpa Casten. Lane loved him and in turn, when Lane said anything Casten, hard of hearing, responded with, “What?”

  Now little Lane was in the habit of repeating everything.

  “That’s my little buddy.” Jameson replied spinning Lane around.

  Alley took Lane back as they got the announcement to get inside the cars. My heart started pounding hard, my tummy tied in knots. I never got nervous per se when he raced but I did now. This was so much bigger than dirt tracks and though you could easily get hurt racing sprints, these speeds were higher. That frightened me for about a half a second before my mind caught up with me and I reminded myself that I couldn’t think about what could go wrong. I had to trust that nothing would and know that he did this because he loved racing, that’s all that mattered...he was happy.