by Stahl, Shey
NASCAR later released a statement saying… “If any other driver is involved in an action deemed by NASCAR as detrimental to the stock car racing or NASCAR, or is disruptive to the orderly conduct of an event, the competitor will be suspended indefinitely from NASCAR.”
After reading the article for the hundredth time that morning, I came to the distinct conclusion nothing would be enough.
Nothing would ever be enough for what he did to Jameson.
In the past, drivers had taken Jameson out, if you want to call it that. Intentionally wrecking him, approaching his pit after the race, things like that. But never had it gone this far.
Trying to kill another driver was not right. Join a fight club or hockey if that’s your intention. To me, this was unacceptable. Something like this should have never been allowed to happen.
I’d been sitting in his hospital room all afternoon, most of which was spent in the bathroom, throwing up that insanely mammoth style breakfast I demolished.
Jameson was in and out. Sometimes he was alert and aware of who was in the room. Other times he was just downright lethargic. They assured us this was just the medication trying to help him heal faster.
Around nine o’clock Monday night his eyes were fluttering open again.
I was looking over a People magazine next to his bed emerged in the lifestyles of others. I’m not gonna lie, this was just a cover. I was intently watching some ridiculously captivating reality show as well.
Jameson groaned, “Fuck...”
At least he can still articulate his favorite word.
“Sway...” he croaked and then sighed. I could tell he was still heavily sedated from the narcotics.
I silently wished I had access to the same narcotics. They’d come in handy for this emotional rollercoaster I found myself riding.
Tossing the magazine on the floor, I leaned forward reaching for his hand.
His rough fingers grazed lightly back and forth under my palm.
“I’m right here, sweetie.” I soothed pulling his hand toward mine.
“Come here.” He begged with hooded eyes. A faint smile flickered across his lips.
“I’m here,”
“No...closer.” His eyes fell closed again trying to move over but winced in pain. Instead, he patted the space beside him. “Please...I need you...closer.”
I knew what he wanted. He wanted me in bed with him.
Wanting that just as much as he did, I cautiously maneuvered myself in bed. This was an extremely difficult task to do with the many broken bones covering most of his left side.
I snuggled as close as I could get, without being too close. Jameson wasn’t having it and tugged me with his good arm even closer. Gently I laid my head against his chest, listening to his strained breathing.
“Thank you honey,” Jameson whispered his voice gravelly and sexy. “I needed that.”
I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t speak with that voice, it distracted me but I remained silent. Now wasn’t the time for that.
Moments passed where we just laid there watching the television; well I was watching it; I wasn’t sure if he was. I doubted Jameson could even focus on it but when I felt a strained chuckle, I glanced up at him.
“What the fuck are you watching?” he finally asked squinting toward the screen in the corner of the room.
“I uh...” Reaching for the remote on the table beside the bed, I turned it off. “I have no clue...it was just on.” I lied.
Damn you reality TV!
Now I could see why everyone watched that shit.
“How are you feeling?” I snuggled against his warm body. It was hardly comfortable but at the same time, it was.
“Sore,” I felt him try to shift in the bed but groaned instantly when he realized that wasn’t happening. “Very sore,”
The room was silent for a while; the only sounds were the beeping of the monitors he was hooked up to and the sounds of his unsteady breathing.
He surprised me when he spoke, his voice a raspy whisper. “Are you really...pregnant?”
I smiled thinking of the little crazy irrational jelly bean inside me. “Yes,” I whispered back. Thoughts of little rusty haired grass green eyed baby floated around me.
“I...uh...” he cleared his throat carefully. “not that I’m upset or anything but I thought you were on...birth control?”
Turning in his arms, I looked up at him. I thought I would see regret but I didn’t. All I saw gazing back at me was love. The love he had for me and our unborn child.
“I was. Apparently they’re not one hundred percent effective...so I’ve been told.” I replied sarcastically.
“Really? Fuck...they should put that on the box.”
“That’s what I said...but when I read the box, they do.” I let out a soft chuckle. “You’d think they would put it in a larger print or something.”
Jameson’s head leaned back against his pillow, his lips turned into a smile when his eyes closed again. “A baby...hmmm”
“Do you want to see the picture?”
His eyes flickered open and met mine, my favorite smile shinned. “You have a picture?”
“Yeah,” I reached in the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out the crumpled photo. “That,” I pointed to the bubble on the black and white photo. “Is your crazy irrational jelly bean...it’s still cooking but it’ll be ready for racing sometime early March.”
Jameson let out a soft chuckle kissing my forehead.
“Who told you I was pregnant?” I asked curiously.
“No one did. I had a feeling when I left but didn’t want to say anything.”
Intuitive bastard. Why couldn’t he have let me in on that theory before he left? At least then I wouldn’t have been subjected to the insanity of Emma and her trying to sneak a peek at my crankcase and her inner workings.
Setting the picture on his thigh, I looked up at him.
“I’m...sorry about Axle.”
I could see the sadness instantly in his tortured expression; he was still struggling with that. I knew the events directly prior to the race were hazy but he remembered what Alley told him.
“I know.” He murmured with a nod. I watched as his eyes shinned with tears though none spilled over.
Squeezing his eyes tightly, he composed himself. Jameson never showed his emotions that way but he did when it came to that brown-eyed little boy who stole a piece of his heart that day he spent with him. A piece that would forever be held with Axle Nathan Taylor.
Continuing to stare at our picture, Kyle knocked softly on the door before stepping inside. I could see his girlfriend standing outside in the hall waiting for him.
“Hey bud, how are you feeling?”
“Ready to race,” Jameson attempted to give a thumbs up with his good hand that was wrapped around me.
“Hah!” Kyle laughed. “You’re funny.”
Jameson looked down with a nod. He knew he was going to be missing a few races and I think that bothered him.
“I hear they’re doin’ surgery on the wrist tomorrow morning?” Kyle moved closer sitting on the couch just inside the door.
“Yeah,” Jameson sighed. “Puttin’ in some pins...I guess.”
Kyle stood and walked toward the bed. Jameson moved his arms from around my shoulder, reaching for Kyle’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay bud. You scared me.”
“I know...I’m sorry.”
Kyle reached for his cell phone in his pocket. “Can you repeat that?” he laughed pushing the phone toward him. “I want to record it.”
I started giggling from my place beside him.
“Not a chance.” Jameson glared at me before turning it on Kyle. “That’s the only sorry you will ever get out of me. Remember that.”
“Oh I will.” Kyle added. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of those two words.”
Jameson groaned. “So what do we do about another driver?”
“We got a few options around.” Kyle told him. “We ca
n worry about that after the surgery when we know how long you will be out. That will determine who we choose.”
Jameson and Kyle made small talk for a moment before pussycat doll came back in to deliver the good stuff. I knew I only had about fifteen minutes before he fell asleep.
Kyle politely excused himself before Melanie started her process of exams on Jameson.
Being the crazy-irrational-hormone-enraged-pigizzle that I was now, I watched every move she made and scrutinized every look Jameson gave her trying to decipher whether or not he’d be attracted to her. Having never been insecure, I wasn’t impressed with these emotions at all. I’d like to blame it on my hormones but I seemed to be blaming everything on that these days. You’d think at some point my brain would need to take some sort of responsibility.
My thoughts were lost when the nurse began her exam, pushing his gown aside to reveal his stomach. My eyes instinctively went to his lower abdomen and then lower hoping to catch a glimpse of the camshaft. All I was able to see was the faint dark hair leading to my favorite track. And if you’re not familiar with a camshaft, this was my term for a man’s penis. It’s a long shaft that’s inserted into the crankcase (a woman’s vagina). I had name for anything sexual and it all related to engines.
“Oh, well look at those,” Melanie snickered looking over Jameson’s tattoos on his lower hips that told her he belonged to Sway Reins.
I laughed trying to hide my amusement by pretending to cough. Didn’t work. Jameson shot me a glare attempting to cover his hips from being exposed further.
“You’re going to have those forever you know.” She told him straightening his blanket.
“No shit.” He grunted clearly not amused.
“Jameson,” Melanie touched his left leg over the blanket ignoring his rudeness. “How are you feeling tonight?”
His brow furrowed looking down at her hand before answering. “Sore—less groggy. I guess that’s better?”
“Well the grogginess won’t go away just yet.” She tapped his IV. “It’s the morphine. You’re on a high dose right now to keep you relaxed. The more you rest, the faster you heal.”
I could tell he was still sleepy or else he would have objected to being sedated so heavily.
Melanie smiled one breathtaking smile at him. It was a smile that made me want to punch out all her pretty white teeth.
Jesus, could she be any more beautiful?
“Let me know if you need anything, sweetie.” Her head turned to the side. “It’s not every day we have a NASCAR superstar in here.”
Jameson smiled and then looked away quickly without saying anything. I could tell she was making him uncomfortable, he didn’t like attention or the touching and neither did I.
Once the door closed behind her, Jameson sighed heavily. “I hate this place,” his voice thick and drowsy. “I just want to go home.”
“I know...I do too.” I agreed running my hands over his stubby jaw. “Soon,”
Gingerly I brought his lips to mine. I intended on kissing him just once but Jameson had other plans when his tongue glided against my lower lip.
Without thinking, I slowly deepened the kiss. His right hand came up from between us, cupping the back of my head. My mind was screaming for me to stop this. He was in no condition to be making out right now but I couldn’t make myself do as such.
Jameson moaned softly, his tongue dancing with my own. He tasted different, like medicine. His movements were slow but I could tell he wanted more. I was moments away from pulling away when he dropped his hand to mine, and then moved it to his erection over the blanket. At least that wasn’t damaged, that would have been fucking tragic.
Jameson groaned into my mouth. “God Sway...I need you.”
“Jameson,” I whispered pulling away with a grin of self-satisfaction that I could arouse him so easily. “We can’t do that...in here...” Thoughts of straddling him in a hospital bed began flooding my perverted brain. Now I understood his fascination when he was stabbed and wanting to do it in the hospital bed.
I could blame baby hormones for that too, right?
I think he knew we couldn’t but it didn’t stop the pout he gave me before he muttered an, “I know.”
“Soon...I promise.” I pulled back away from him. “You need to heal first.” I leaned in placing another chaste kiss on his lips. He once again tried for more.
Both of us jumped when the door to his room opened—Jameson winced in pain. “Fuck...”
“Now, now...that’s how you knocked her up in the first place.” Spencer laughed at his weak joke before he and Alley barged in.
“Can’t you put him on the do not let in list or something?” Jameson asked me quietly. His eyes drooping even more, he was fighting to stay awake.
I realized how inappropriate our position looked so I cautiously removed myself from the bed albeit against Jameson’s struggles to keep me there. Eventually, he settled for me holding his hand.
“We won’t stay long.” Alley assured me. Jameson’s eyes were already closing. “We just wanted to say goodbye. We have to go pick up Lane at my mom’s.”
Jameson’s eyes opened briefly when Spencer leaned down and whispered in his ear. His mouth twisted into a faint smile as Spencer ruffled his hair carefully.
Once they left, he fell asleep quickly. I didn’t. I stayed vigilant of every breath, every movement and every flicker of emotion.
When Jameson woke up the next morning for surgery, he was grumpy.
Actually, he was pissed. That was a better word to describe his mood. His pillows weren’t fluffy enough, he was cold, he was uncomfortable and he was hungry. He was acting like a goddamn child is what he was doing.
When the nurses left, he admitted he was also incredibly horny and wanted to be alone with me, while I gave him a sponge bath.
His words, not mine.
Believe me...after seeing the way pussycat doll ogled his body during his physical exams, I was happy to be the one he was requesting do his sponge baths.
Jameson’s biggest concern was naturally, getting back to racing.
It was a huge relief to hear his doctor say that he didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be back to racing in three weeks.
Once he heard that news, it was all he could think about. He was anxious and impatient to get out of here and prove he could still race after a crash like that. We were all aware of the sheer amount of work it would take to get back out on the track but I’d never met anyone as determined as Jameson.
When he wanted something, he didn’t let anything stand in his way. The punctured lung concerned him, but it was already healing nicely. He felt better when the doctors told him that a number of professional athletes had collapsed lungs during their careers and went on with no ill effect. The broken ribs caused him untold amounts of pain though, especially since he couldn’t resist pushing his limits. It was his nature.
That afternoon, after his outburst for pretty much everything, his head turned toward me, sunlight from the window sparking in his green eyes.
“I love you.” Jameson whispered as I stood beside his bed. His good hand came up and touched my stomach gently. He smiled. I ran my hand against his jaw, the clear light coming in showed every bruise, bump and cut.
It also showed stress, tension, and worry. His physical wounds were healing but there was something hidden deep within him that I knew he wasn’t revealing to me or anyone.
“I know you do.”
The days following Jameson’s surgery for his wrist were for lack of a better description, a cluster fuck.
It was now Wednesday and the decision needed to be made who would step in for Jameson during the Indianapolis race. Jameson wanted Justin West to step in. The only problem was Justin could only make Indy without interfering with the World of Outlaws schedule.
The doctors indicated the hole in his lung was healing, which meant the air escaping was slowly decreasing but he still wasn’t healed. This meant he needed to find a drive
r for Michigan and possibly Bristol before he could pass the physical NASCAR required.
His room was constantly filled with doctors, the pussycat doll, reporters, and police detectives. Melissa and Marcus, representatives with Simplex Shocks and Springs, his sponsor in the cup series, made a visit to see how their driver was doing. Hell even Randy, Jameson’s uncle even came by to check on his nephew.
All of this pissed Jameson off. You’d think he would be happy all these people were there to see him, but no, all my dirty heathen could think about was sex...and more importantly...sex with me.
Every time someone left the room, he was back to molesting me with lingering touches, inappropriate kisses, and constantly whispering all the naughty things he wanted to do to me.
I was in pigizzle heaven. I was where a pigizzle went to die a blissful death, surrounded by my dirty heathen.
I was afraid he was going to hurt himself with the way he would pull me against him but that never stopped him.
At one point, I even tried threatening him. “I’ll call the nurse and have you sedated if you can’t settle down.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged looking toward my finger wavering over the call button.
“Behave then.”
Jameson groaned dragging his hand through his hair. “Fuck Sway...it’s been two goddamn weeks since I had any sort of stimulation down there. Three if you count anything other than my own hand.” His eyes showed panic. “I’m going to go insane.”
I giggled. “You’re adorable.”
“Shut up.” He snapped and continued to pout picking at his cast. “I’d settle for some micro polishing...?” he suggested south with a lazy nod, letting his voice get that particular drawl to it that he knew would leave me weak.
“Jameson, no...you’re injured...badly.” I objected with a slight smile. “There’s no way I’m doing anything besides kiss you while you’re in this hospital.”
“So...no chance of bleeding my pressure valve either...?” he gave me the sad puppy dog eyes attempting to seal the deal.
