by Shey Stahl
Because of his presence in the sport and the women that followed it, insecurities will build at a rapid pace at times like this if you let it. I didn’t let it.
The clouds had rolled apart, the first glimpse of sun all day peeked through as we stood in the infield. I knew Jameson was near when I head the crowd come to life.
He stopped in front of me, his body in line with mine. Ignoring the crowd, something that was hard to do these days, Jameson ran his left hand up my arm until it reached my face. He cupped my cheek with one hand and then raised the other. Two fingers motioned for me to come closer.
Naturally Mama Wizard leaned in and he grinned, a perfect lopsided grin I’d grown to love.
Thousands of people were standing near us but we saw none of them.
“Honey,” he whispered in a low rasp drawing my attention only to him. Jameson’s voice had always been slightly raspy but over the years it’d gotten more so to the point where it could send shivers down my spine just by saying hello. Lightning ran through my veins, electrifying, his gaze caused sparks that lit the way to a place I knew well. It was like running at a Saturday night race at your home track.
He leaned forward slowly until his lips touched mine, a quick intake of breath, a cool breeze on a hot day; it was exactly what I needed.
He pulled back a little, staring at my lips and a whoosh of air left his beautiful lips.
To anyone else around us, we were just two people. I was just a wife and he a husband, two people in love. To anyone else, it was just a moment.
To us, the two people wrapped up in the moment, it was everything in that moment. A hold only a man and woman knew a hold that we knew.
His face dropped, his parted mouth met the curve of my neck. “I love you.” He murmured, his lips pausing at my ear. My hands ran over his shoulder, my fingers tracing the logos of sponsors who trusted this man as much as I do. “And I love you,”
Over the years, his demeanor and reactions to the fame have changed but he still wasn’t comfortable with it. This, kissing me in public, wasn’t something he was comfortable with either but he did it because moments like this were sometimes all that was left for us.
“Listen, if you fuck this up, I will fucking stab you.” It was that statement that burst us from our bubble.
“Casten!” I screeched slapping my sons shoulder.
“What?” Casten shot me a glare and then quickly reversed it when he realized who he was dealing with. It might have had to do with Jameson giving him a look too. “He needs to be on his game. I’m not lying.” He turned to Cole again. “I will stab you family or not.”
Jameson laughed rubbing his shoulder as he remembered his own stabbing. “Ask Emma, she could help you out with technique if needed.”
“Shut up asshole.” Emma bumped her knee into Jameson’s ass as she came up behind him, Aiden followed her.
“You ready for this bud?” Kyle said coming to stand beside us. Jameson hands crept around my waist to keep me near him. I didn’t argue and instinctively, like my own favorite track, a place I felt at home, I felt contained here in a crowd full of people as long as he was touching me.
Jameson nodded and the pre-race activities got under way soon after that.
We stood in front of the stage ready to cheer on the drivers and their teams.
I had never laughed so much in my life when the doors opened, smoke, fire, you name it and Casten, Cole and Jacob emerged wearing tall pimp hats with handfuls of one dollar bills strutting to the likes of The O’Jays For the Love of Money with twenty four NASCAR drivers, their dad’s included, walking behind them laughing.
The volume exploded when they appeared from the smoke, music pulsed as the team received recognition they deserved for being selected.
Casten was all grins, with a flashy walk. I couldn’t have been a prouder Mama Wizard as I was in that moment of my little diligent spaz. Thankfully it appeared Cole hadn’t fucked anything up yet and wouldn’t be stabbed later. Casten apparently had a lot riding on this.
“Oh jeez, he really has that walk down.” Jimi noted watching Casten bend down and shake the money in the faces of the fans and then threw it in the air, laughing, like a crazy kid.
I watched Jameson, his eyes examining the crowd but seemed amused by his son. His eyes soon found mine in the crowd. He winked and darted his eyes to Casten quickly and returned to mine with an eye roll. Shrugging was the only answer I could provide for him.
After my son pimped his way off stage, they introduced each driver to the fans and their crew members. Spencer was missing though and it felt strange for us all to be here without him.
“Why isn’t Spencer here?” I asked Alley. “I mean, I know he just had knee surgery but I thought he’d at least be here with a bottle of pills to annoy Jameson.”
Alley laughed. “He just sent me a message. He’s on his way. He originally thought he’d be in too much pain but you know him.” She motioned to Jameson making his way off stage and shaking hands with each member of his crew and patting their backs. “Spencer would never miss a race of Jameson’s.”
It was true. He never missed a Cup race, ever. In the six hundred and seventy two races he started in the number nine Ford, Spencer was there to raise the window net for him.
A part of me wasn’t sure how Jameson would handle it. He said he didn’t like his family often but when they weren’t around, Jameson wasn’t the same.
Alley nudged me again about the time they were finished introducing the twenty-four teams. “He’s here. Keep an eye on Cole and Lex for me...if you can.”
“Don’t put that type of responsibility on me Alley.” I groaned trying to run away. “You know I’ll fail at that.”
Nothing stopped her. She still left my ass to babysit. I found Nancy and Emma in the crowd so we all decided to head to the grid where the teams and drivers were now heading. Thankfully the hoodlum kids followed too. Casten and Cole were all smiles at their ability to get the crowd going. Turns out the cheer nationals enjoyed it too and Cole’s dream came true. They followed our boys around like they were their mascots.
Jameson was fiddling with his visor when I approached him on the grid, the rest of the family made their way behind the wall. We all decided tonight would be like any other Saturday night racing. We would stay in the pit.
“You ready for this?”
He laughed leaning against the car in a familiar lean. His arms crossed over his chest and he smiled at me. “It’s weird. I feel strange tonight.”
“Spencer?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. Commotion beside him caught his attention and I knew I needed to get on the pit box as they were getting ready to start the heat races. Jameson was in the first heat and needed to get ready.
Perched on my tippy toes, I kissed him. “Good luck tonight champ.”
“Thanks honey.”
On the grid, the fans gave the invocation for the drivers. Now was the time my eyes shot up and saw what I knew Jameson needed.
Jimi, who sat beside me and Nancy, laughed, a sincere emotional laugh, when he saw Spencer hobbling onto the grid.
Spencer stood at the car and waited for Jameson to notice him. When he did, he smiled and gave Spencer the sign he had every other race. A familiar shake of his wrist extending his pinky and thumb out and keeping his middle fingers curled in, the hang loose sign. It was a ritual they had and could never be break.
Spencer smiled, wide and goofy, on his way to the pits where he took a seat below the pit box with a headset to watch for the night.
The heat race was entertaining. Any time you have hungry drivers all battling for a chance to win a million dollars, their damn hungry and aggressive. In Jameson’s heat, he took second to Brody Williams only because Jameson got loose and pegged the wall in two. Brody took full advantage and took the lead. The heats dictated how they would run in the main event, though so this meant, after the other six were ran, Jameson would start the first main event in ninth. It wasn’t grea
t but it wasn’t horrible either.
When we informed him, he was having a discussion with Brody about who knows what and it didn’t seem to be going well for either of them. Brody was a kid and I think Jameson forgot that sometimes. The legal age to race in the Cup series was eighteen. Nowadays is seemed they scouted drivers right out of high school and there was probably seven fulltime drivers on the circuit now under twenty-one, Brody included. Drivers who are eighteen have a much different driving style than veteran drivers like Jameson, Tate, and Bobby. Just like the veteran drivers used to do to Jameson, they let those young drivers know about the gentleman’s agreement and what you do and don’t do on the track. I had a sneaking suspicion that Brody was being informed of the gentleman’s agreement.
“Hey, pay attention!” Kyle said when Jameson returned all stormy eyed and swearing under his breath. He took a seat on the edge of the pit wall as the NASCAR officials explained the running order for the trophy dashes.
“Sorry, fuck, he’s a fucking jerk.”
“Yeah well,” Kyle point to the laptop that told him what race Jameson was in. “You’re in the second trophy dash with him, Nadia, and Bobby. Keep it clean.”
Jameson scrunched his nose and glared. “Keep it clean.” He repeated in a mocking tone that caused the group surrounding him to laugh.
Looking up to the pit box, we made eye contact and I winked taking his gesture away. Giving me a goofy grin, he gave me a head nod and bit the corner of his lip seductively. Little shit.
What did I do?
I reverted back to pit lizard days and grabbed my funbags with both hands.
I won. He threw his head back in laughter.
Teasing was our thing. We were good at it.
Jameson won his trophy dash which helped his mood for the main events. With the start of the first main, I put the headset back on and took my place next to Jimi and Nancy again. Jameson started in right away with the trash talking. “This little shit is going down. I want the million dollars.” He said with amusement when Brody bumped him from behind.
Jimi chuckled. “Why’s that Jameson? Because you gotta pay for all that shit your kids broke?”
“Something like that old man.” My favorite part about listening to his in-car audio came through, the radio cracked.
“One to go at the line,” Aiden announced, “Watch you shift there.”
“Pays backs for all that shit you broke when you were younger.” Jimi added.
“Whatever.” Jameson laughed lightly. “Let’s get some focus here. I got a million to win.”
Jimi let Kyle take over and they talked race format for a moment before the green flag waved. Cars shuffled quickly, all searching for a quick opening to gain a spot or two and darting to the preferred line the rain had washed away from their practice session to now. It seemed the only grip was up top which was beneficial for Jameson, he always loved running the high side.
Starting ninth, Jameson had seventh secured by lap ten and gaining on Brody and Paul in front of him. “Outside clear, there you go. P6 right there, keep coming bud.” Aiden said. “That’s P5 right there in front of you for position. Two back on you.”
“Where’s Bobby running?”
“He’s tenth.”
Paul and Brody battled for fifth in front of Jameson when Paul got loose, Brody cleared the position but smacked his right rear quarter panel on the outside wall. One thing about the Monster Mile, it wasn’t forgiving. This allowed Jameson to clear Brody too but then the caution flag came out and we knew why. Brody was in front of Jameson now and I wasn’t sure how that would go.
“Why did they call the caution?”
“Rain”
“Oh damn it.” He huffed. “I’m gonna kick this kids ass after the race. He’s pissing me off.”
Brody and Jameson were nudging each other during the pace laps as they waited for the rain to clear, the lightening rumbled across the dark sky.
“It’s talking out there.” Nancy said snuggling into Jimi. He wrapped his burly arms around her.
The media scrambled for cover as the sky opened up and poured for a few minutes. They left the cars on the track waiting for the rain to stop.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate rain delays?” Jameson asked.
Kyle kicked his legs on the other side of me wrapping his arm around me when I shivered from the wind. “You may have mentioned it a time or two.”
“Feelings are still the same.”
The rain eventually let up, the blowers got out there and dried the track and then the boys were pitting. Jameson gained two spots on pit lane and Brody lost one. This put Jameson in fourth when they waived the green flag again. Two things were uncertain at that point, the inversion point and if the rain would come back and what that would do to the grip. Right now, as the field was setting up, Jameson needed to be back in the field a little more to gain himself a good opportunity. He knew that.
“What should we do?” Jameson asked when they got to lap forty five.
“Uh, well,” Kyle thought for a minute just about the time Brody caught Jameson coming out of three and cut down on him. Jameson checked up but Bobby was right there and Jameson got sideways into and smacked the wall.
“What a douchebag!” Jameson yelled. “Someone needs to kick his ass. Aiden?” his voice remained heated.
“Yeah bud?”
“Go kick his spotter’s ass for me.”
“Nah man,” Aiden sounded terrified. “Bob is not very friendly.”
“Nice asshole, way to stick up for me.” Jameson argued.
“All right Jameson,” Kyle interrupted. “Let’s think about the inversion here. It looks like you have a tire going.”
“Super.” I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t impressed with the rookie. In all actuality, most drivers back when Jameson was rookie didn’t like him either.
They had the drivers come down pit lane again to announce the inversion, each driver parking beside their pit boxes. Jameson flipped the drivers net down and then sat there for a moment. It was set to be a twenty-minute delay as they wanted to bring out the jet dryers again and interview the fans and drivers.
Brody got out of his car and immediately went to Jameson’s car, who I might add had dropped from fourth to twentieth when Brody came down on him like that. Jameson wasn’t pleased.
That was Brody’s first mistake, coming down on Jameson. His second, approaching Jameson before he had a moment to calm down.
You could literally see the fire igniting in Jameson at the sight Brody standing at his door.
Jameson tossed his gloves aside, the motion forced and violent. When Brody spoke, Jameson muttered something back shaking his head, eyes focused intently on the rookie before him, contemplating his motivation.
Brody leaned in, his hands found the edge of his window blocking Jameson from getting out.
Jimi leaned forward, his eyes finding mine. “What the hell is that kid thinking?”
I gave him my best, “Are you shitting me?” look.
“Please don’t let my son kill that boy.” Nancy said pushing Jimi with her hands. “Go down there.”
Jimi didn’t have a chance before Kyle and Mason walked over.
Jameson, in a quick movement was tossing gear aside trying free himself from the car. Hoisting his body to the edge of the window, anger fueled, he swung his legs around and stood tall before Brody.
Hovering over him, he grabbed him by his racing suit and brought him closer. He was calm but angry. He was forceful but graceful, always poised with concentrated ire. Foolish pride of this kid is quickly steered as Jameson now controlled the argument and yes, it was turning into an argument. Pushing, shoving and heated words between two passionate drivers, and now crew members.
Brody held steady, not giving in but he was nothing like Jameson.
Making my way from the pit box, I knew I was the one to get Jameson under control. His knuckles were white, fisted in Brody’s suit still, eyes flashed with
a storm more threatening and destructive than the weather here.
Fans and officials gathered quickly, shouting, cheering and with harsh callous words filled the space around Jameson’s black car.
This was what the fans wanted on a night like tonight and those boys gave them it. They wanted real people with real tempers. It was like watching open wheel racing to me, tempers, passion, and a love for winning.
When I got within earshot of their conversation, I heard Jameson talking in a low hard tone. “For starters, you should stay in your own pit.”
“I just came to see what your problem was!” Brody yelled back.
“My problem,” Jameson’s brow raised in warning, “I don’t have a problem with you. I have a problem with your racing.”
Brody shoved Jameson, another mistake.
“Be careful what you start kid.” Jameson warned steading himself against the car.
“Why?” Brody snorted in disgust. “Because I’ll go missing like Darrin did?”
He went there.
“Watch your fucking mouth.” Jameson took another step forward keeping his eyes focused on Brody. The cameras around them hovered in the air trying to catch the reactions.
“You scared that everyone will know the truth?” Brody taunted.
I grabbed Jameson’s arm only to have him shake me off without regard and Kyle wrap his arms around me out as Brody’s team surrounded us pushing and shoving to get to their driver.
Brody knew what to say to send him over the edge. He wanted him angry and he knew what to do. “I heard he fucked your wife?”
My stomach turned at his words, memories swept over me but I didn’t lead on.
That did it. He was the stupid eighteen-year old I knew he would be and Jameson was still the aggressive passionate driver he’d always been.
Sometimes, on a Saturday night, the adrenaline fueled aggressive tempers; words have a way of getting the best of you.
