by Shey Stahl
“You’re sorry?” Jameson choked out in a gasp removing his hand from his pocket and finally looking up. “You tried to kill me and you expect me to just roll it off my shoulders?”
“No! I know I messed up.” Grady didn’t know it, but it was too late for apologies.
His glare at Grady spoke volumes if the hands fisting in his shirt didn’t. “I fucking warned you. I told you when I hired you, don’t fuck me over or you’ll regret it.”
That’s when Grady tried to explain. “My grandparents and my mom went into depression after my dad died. We were very close with his family and his sister who had schizophrenia. Their entire family suffered from it. I felt like it was my responsibility to defend him. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you...well, I did, but I’m sorry. I never touched Jimi’s car...” He pleaded holding his hands up trying to back away from him. Jameson had him pinned against a car in the parking lot and didn’t appear like he was going to let go. “I swear that I didn’t!”
Jameson’s smile was bitter and hard as he ripped his eyes from Grady. His head turned sideways as the muscles in his jaw tightened with each thought. “What makes you think I can believe you now?”
Grady stumbled over a few words that meant nothing as far as Jameson was concerned.
“You had no right to do that. I don’t care who you are.” Jameson said letting go of Grady and stepping back. “You had no right to come into my family, my home, and act like it was your responsibility. This wasn’t your fight to defend and you know absolutely nothing about what happened with me and Darrin. I did nothing to you.” He pushed between his teeth, still not looking at anyone.
I watched his chest expand, his shirt tightening against his skin. Taking my own deep breath, I contemplated how I could calm him down but knew showing the funbags would be just a little inappropriate given the circumstances.
But I did think about it.
“I know that.” Grady took a hesitant step back distancing himself from Jameson, his hands finding the car he was against as if he wanted to run away. “I’m sorry. I will pay for whatever damages I caused.”
Jameson wasn’t listening at that point, choosing to discard his apology with another question of his own. “Why?”
Grady looked at his feet wondering if he should lie. “I wanted revenge for you taking my dad from me.”
“So what, you thought killing mine would be an eye for an eye?”
“I’m sorry Jameson, I really am. You are the last person that I wanted to hurt but it was too late after the cars had left.”
“I saw you the night before we left.” Jameson said in disbelieve. “It was too late then?”
“You trusted me. I didn’t want you to be angry with me.” Grady’s voice was breaking on the verge of tears. He finally understood what he had done and in reality, it was evident he was still a kid. He had no idea of the repercussions that he had produced.
“So because I trusted you...” he shook his head deliberately at the thought, “...you let me get inside a car with partial welds and nearly kill myself?”
“I never wanted to hurt you!” He said it again as if this would mean something.
“But you did.” Jameson looked at him, his face hidden from my view. His hand rose and he pointed at me. “You could have destroyed her life too.”
“Jameson,” Grady breathed as if he was trying to get his point across. “I never got to know my dad…because of you.”
Yep, he went there.
“Your dad,” Jameson stepped closer. Each step was a fiery warning of what was to come. “...was a fucking murderer. He deserved everything he got.”
Grady blinked, the realization finally sinking in that he had touched a nerve and there was no going back now. The guys surrounding them knew too, Clint and Van stepped behind Jameson.
“Sway,” Jameson’s eyes found mine and then nodded to Clint. “Go with Clint inside.” he said looking at me and then Emma and Alley. “Go with them.”
“Jameson,” I begged reaching to tug on his arm. “This isn’t the answer.”
“I asked you to go. Please leave.” His eyes met mine and with one look, I knew that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid but he didn’t want me in the way should Grady choose to fight them.
I never saw the aftermath or the conversations with Darrin and Jameson following my attack. Seeing his temper now, I had no idea that my husband, a man so tender, a man that could be magic and myth, so violent, so extreme, so...deadly with just a look.
I couldn’t hear everything that was said as we were inside but I had a view of the parking lot and kept my eyes on Jameson. I knew Grady wouldn’t fight him, he wasn’t stupid but I was nervous of what would if he hit him in his shoulder or his head. What would that do to him?
“I never want to see you again!” Jameson shouted when he started to walk away and Grady reached out to him.
“Jameson—”
That’s when Jameson’s temper took over and Van stepped in. Facing me, I could see his face flushed with anger but also emotion, he was crying. He was crying because he trusted this kid, let him into his shop and then he tried to kill him. We had no idea if what happened to Jimi’s car was because of Grady but the thought was there. That scared Jameson because again, this fell on his shoulders.
“YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!” he screamed through tears reaching for Grady. Van, knowing Jameson was in no condition to fight, grabbed him and pushed Grady away from him. “I trusted you! Goddamn you, I fucking trusted you! I gave you a chance and that’s how you repay me! Fuck you!”
Van slid between them, his hands on Grady’s chest. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.”
That’s when Nancy, tipsy from the wine she found, came up behind me. “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing,” Emma, Alley and me all turned around with wide eyes to find Nancy staring at us all glassy eyed and rosy cheeks.
“Is that Jameson and Grady out there?” Her hand waved splashing wine around. “You tell that Grady that I’m gonna kick his ass too!”
“How do you know about that?” Emma asked taking the wine from her mom.
“Cole.”
“Goddamn him.” Alley huffed and took off to find Cole who was with Casten by the bar.
If was official. Another night turned to shit. I knew as well as everyone else in our family that tonight was going to be a disaster.
Jameson said nothing, his expression pure stone as he walked inside the banquet hall, his frustration evident with a rake of his fingers over the stubble of his hair. It was weird seeing him with such short hair that I stopped and looked.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight?” I said when he got closer to me dragging my palms over his face for him to look at me. “You’re angry. We should do this another night.”
“She’s right man.” Spencer stood next to him straightening his jacket and placing his hand carefully on his shoulder. “We can do this some other time.”
“No. Fuck no. Let’s do this.” He threw his hands up in the air and began to walk away. “I’m fine!”
I looked away blinking away tears.
“He’s fine.” Casten mocked when the door to the bathroom slammed behind Jameson. “Totally fucking crazy but yes, he’s fine.”
“Yeah, fine.” Spencer shook his head and then sighed. “Shit…we should have told him sooner.”
“What a disaster.” Tommy shook his head as well, his hands hanging loosely on his hips before he grabbed a beer. “Might as well call the police now because we know Grady will show up inside here shortly.”
“What? Why didn’t Clint and Van take him away?”
Spencer and Tommy exchanged a glance and Casten spoke up for them. I could always count on him. “Dad wants him to hear his speech.”
“Oh you have to be kidding me!” I grabbed another beer and seated myself before I slapped the shit out of my husband tonight, or better yet, shoved the cane in my hand straight up Grad
y’s ass for even coming here tonight.
Eventually Jameson returned from the bathroom three sheets to the wind and gave a speech that amazingly held the adoring eyes of everyone that gave stood behind him. I said it before but this team had a solidarity that was hard to find as it was hard to attain. This team had casualness to each other and a trust. It was a trust that Jameson believed in despite the recent turn of events.
He never had to search for his words and he spoke from the heart, his eyes told me so. Most of the time he looked at his hands on the podium but he did look up and the room motionless as a man spoke to a truth we all felt. “I can’t make this any different. If I could, I would. But...” he gave a regretful tip of his head. “it is evident to me that nothing is in your control. I’d love to stand up here and tell you that I am recovering and moving forward from this but,” he shrugged. “I do understand that despite all the fucked up shit and dishonest liars in the world, there’s a group of people who work hard to turn that around. It is a family that, over the years, has treated me with respect and helps for the greater good of our team.” Jameson reached for his beer next to him and raised it. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart...” his voice cracked, his weight shifting uncomfortably. His eyes squeezed shut and he nodded a few times swallowing over the emotion building. “...my broken heart, thank you for standing behind me. I am very grateful for everything you have done for me.”
Watchful of the crowd and who was there, I breathed a sigh of relief when he left the podium that Grady hadn’t come inside.
Then I wondered if I would ever run out of tears. I had this thought a lot in my life and now, I thought it again. I also wondered why I chose to wear pantyhose. Who actually wears them anymore? Once I started crying and then found myself in the bathroom, I ripped those goddamn things off and threw them away.
Just as I was about to return to the table, Nancy walked in with a bottle of wine. “Oh, hi sweetheart,” She said through a controlled smile. Alcohol was helping but I knew at any given time, she was holding on by a thread.
Wrapping my arms around her was all I could do. We hugged often. It was our way of dealing with it. Dealing with the void, the hurt, the emotion, all of it was poured into a hug. “How do you do it?” I whispered pulling back to hold her at arm length.
Nancy looked at the bottle and let out a giggle. “This helps...but,” her face twisted just as Jameson’s had moment ago and she fought back the feeling. “...there’s a lot hurt can teach us. I miss him so much that I can’t breathe at times. I can’t look at his clothes and not cry.” Right about this moment was when I let out a strangled cry and Nancy gripped me, holding onto to me so tightly that it nearly hurt. “The hurt teaches us that we have a lot to be thankful for. There are moments that are happening around us that we take for granted. We think because they’re not there anymore that we have to mourn their loss until it hurts so bad we can’t take it anymore. That’s not what it’s about.” She smiled her beautiful smile that could take your breath away and make you laugh at the same time. “I remember the very last thing he said to me.” Her hand touched her heart over the locket he gave to her on Christmas this last year. “...he kissed this locket and told me that he loved me.”
“I’m sorry.” I said hating the words as they brushed through my trembling lips as they meant nothing but words. She didn’t need me to tell her as she knew.
“Help him Sway. Hold onto what we have and what’s in front of us. I never worry about Spencer or Emma. Jameson...I worry about him. Jimi meant more to him than he led anyone to believe.”
I knew that. I knew that because I saw it in the way he hung on his every word growing up. When he won a race as a child, and even later in his career, he looked for idolatry Jimi had for him when he got out of the car after winning. Jimi was proud of Jameson, for this was his son, his own flesh in blood that followed his legendary footsteps.
“I don’t know how to help him.” I divulged to Nancy. “I feel like he’s pushing me away.”
“He’s not. He needs you and he knows it.” Nancy wiped away her own tears and took a drink straight from the wine bottle she was holding. “To Jameson, the vow you guys made to each other means more than anything else. When he promises something, he means it. I know that because Jimi was that same way. They are spitting images of each other.” A careful smile formed as she spoke her next words. “And that’s why I’m making it through this. I’m remembering what’s right in front of me and what I have thankful for. I have a little piece of Jimi in all my kids, even you, and that’s what I’m going to hold on to.”
More tears. Blubbering like a goddamn idiot. Even Nancy was concerned. Waving my arms around, I grabbed her bottle and drank half of it.
After controlling myself, finding another beer, and checking on my tipsy mother in-law talking with my fifteen-year old hoodlum about what island in Hawaii had better surfing, I made my way back to the table we were seated at before dinner was served.
Taking a deep breath, I sat next to him quietly as Carl, a representative with Simplex, was talking to him about upcoming sponsorship obligations. I watched him a lot that night, talking with his team who was all hopeful of a quick recovery for him. He made a few comments to the fact that he wanted to return before the Richmond race. He always loved Richmond.
He was colder and more direct with people than I had ever seen him in the past but I understood after what happened with Grady. It would be a long time before he trusted someone, outside of our family, again.
He took my hand under the table and held it on his thigh, the muscle under my hand tightened when I flattened my palm and kept it on his leg. Looking at him now it was apparent he had drank too much by his hooded bloodshot eyes and slouched appearance but I wasn’t about to take away his beer.
He smiled for the first time that night when Nancy started teasing Spencer.
When he saw Grady, the fire returned and his mood immediately went to shit. Within a minute, he stood on the table knocking over glassed and plates to do so with a microphone in hand. I looked at Carl seated next to him, his eyes wide and stunned at Jameson’s behavior.
“To my wife,” Jameson head bowed with a slight tilt pulling the microphone closer. A shocked heavy silence spread over the crowd. “...thank you for being there for me and never lying to me.”
Some might take that as a backhanded comment, given the circumstances, but I didn’t lie to him. He knew that and it was a sincere gesture he was making because he understood that had he asked me, I would have told him.
It wasn’t hard to see the anger rising quickly when he looked at Grady and raised his beer above his head. “And to the fucking douchebag that stole from me!” Jameson shouted, the sound echoed throughout the room. He made eye contact with Grady. Alley, who sat on the other side of me, leaned into my shoulder knowing where this was going. “...Thank you for making me realize family was...is the only real honest people in the fucking world. So,” he raised his beer higher. “Fuck you Grady!” He dropped the microphone at his feet and stormed out of the room.
Yep. He did that. In front of family, sponsors, friends, you name it, they witnessed my husband’s verbal chastising.
To most of us, it was nothing new.
That was the last we ever saw of Grady. Clint and Van left with him but I knew this time, Grady would legally be held accountable for his actions.
Some people would say that my husband was hasty and insensitive to those around him that night, a night that was supposed to be about the people who were supporting him. To them I would say, well, there’s times when a driver jumps the start. They get sidetracked by the commotion around them and go for it. Repeated jumping of the start does result in a penalty. Jameson knew that. He had every right to respond the way he did.
I watched him sleep that night. I tried to force the tears that flowed away. And the fact that I was crying again, for him, for his mom, for our entire family made me angry because I didn’t want to cry anymore. Our lives
had been changed, rearranged to the point where we didn’t know where that clay met the rubber anymore. But I knew, deep down, that we could find it again. I vowed to never give it up and remembered my vow to him even before the wedding. The vow I wrote on a napkin with eyeliner:
Here’s to a lifetime of making sure you have the correct tire pressure.
24. Seat Time – Jameson
Seat Time – Time sitting behind the wheel, competing in a race, qualifying and practicing.
There’s something that I learned back when I raced for the Triple Crown at eighteen. I was that seat time, whether it be racing, qualifying, or even just logging laps in heat races, was that eventually, you get a handle of the way your car responds in different situations and track conditions.
With all that seat time comes and understanding and a sense of respect for what each can teach you. I knew that no matter what the track conditions were or how my car handled, I could never run high at Terra Haute. I knew that if Skagit was dry and slick, the high line was the only place I could run. And Lernerville, I knew that when the track glazed over, with my driving style, I would end up in the field at some point.
There’s something that I learned now, twenty years later about all the seat time I have had all these years. I learned that no matter what, no matter how many laps you have logged, nothing prepares you for when the track, your favorite track, changes. When the conditions you set your car up for no longer work and you have to hang on and hope for the best. I guess that’s what I would say happened.
Track conditions had changed. Now we had to make adjustments.
Spencer looked over at me sitting in the family room, his eyes rimmed with tears. “Does it feel real to you?” he asked softly looking at a picture of our dad on the mantel above the fireplace. The picture was of me and Spencer standing beside him and his sprint car after he won Knoxville Nationals the year before he returned. The memory stung like acid, a reminder I could still feel the pain of his absence.
