by Stahl, Shey
His eyes shifted toward me briefly before darting back to the ceiling. “Good morning honey.”
Well that was a good sign. He called me honey.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little,”
“I’m going to take a shower.” I told him waiting to see if he said anything. His head jerked slightly, the only indication that he heard me.
My tears broke through once I was in the shower but just like that, he was there in an instant drawing me near.
“I’m sorry.” His hands framed my face. “I didn’t mean to take any of that out on you last night or put you guys in danger last night.”
“I know you didn’t.” I sobbed clutching him. “I’m just emotional I guess.”
He let me hold him or maybe he held me.
Either way, no more words were spoken and we just held each other. I know it may sound silly but that’s what we both needed right then and the fact that he sensed that took away the harsh actions of the previous night.
Since the Darlington race was being held at night, the day wasn’t as rushed but by nine, race day was in full swing and Jameson’s mood hadn’t improved. He’d apparently made plans for us to sneak away for lunch but before that could happen, they had their team meeting.
We walked to his hauler to find Jimi was there standing alone inside the hauler waiting on Jameson.
“What was that last night?” was his greeting.
“What?” Jameson shouted as though Jimi was stupid for even asking.
Jimi tossed a wrench across the floor. The sound of it hitting the wall caused me to jump.
“Stop raising your voice at me and listen for once.”
“Listen to you?” Jameson stared at his dad incredulously as his voice wavered at the end. “How can you say that to me...?”
The truth was Jameson heard every word Jimi ever said to him. If anything, he listened to Jimi more than he listened to anyone.
“I heard about what happened in Summerville.” Jimi arched his brow. “You should have called the police.”
Jameson grunted a response that Jimi shook his head to, leaving me alone with him.
Jimi’s eyes met mine briefly, before he smiled. “He’s worth it.” And then he too, left.
Jameson hadn’t gone far, I found him standing outside signing autographs for fans that had gathered.
He did that for just a few moments before politely excusing himself.
He had a hospitality obligation in the media center for Ayers Manufacturing who was sponsoring the race so we took the long way and walked along the outside of the pits near the track.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as the sun rose on backstretch. Light filtered between the rows of Featherlite motor coaches.
“And I do?” My eyes squinted into the brightness.
“Yes.” His tone evened out, his gaze shifting from mine to the track as if it held the answer to this.
He looked restless again. I wanted to take away his pain and his burdens letting him be the kid he deserved to be for once but that’s not what he wanted. Racing for him was more than just a love and deeper than most cared to understand. It was a comfort that pulled from beneath the surface of self-control.
“I’m tired of making you cry.” He exhaled stopping to look at me. I could see the swollen reminder of last night that formed under his right eye and the split in his bottom lip.
“Then don’t.” I replied sweeping the evidence of my hurt away with my sleeve.
I hated how often I was crying these days and desperately wanted to have a talk with this little spaz inside me regarding his or her effect on me.
“I’m not sure I know how to.” I felt his breath stir my hair as words were whispered into my skin. “I’m sorry.” His fingertips caught the tears that remained on the base of my chin. He had that look like he wanted to say more but didn’t.
I tilted my head to meet his gaze. “I know.”
“I’ll never stop trying.” He breathed against my neck.
I knew Jameson well enough to know he was sorry and he wouldn’t quit but there was a small portion of him that was guarding for the unthinkable should it happen. He was shutting down parts he knew could be damaged.
I shivered despite the warm haze, goose bumps of a different kind grazed over my skin. His lips brushed against my neck one again. “I really am sorry.”
9. Balance – Jameson
Balance – When a car doesn’t understeer or oversteer and is said to be riding like it’s on rails.
Throughout my life with Sway, I have managed to fuck everything up.
The first time we had sex, we were drunk. The first time I told her I loved her, it was right after we had sex, and I made her cry.
When she told me she was pregnant, I was in the hospital, high as a fucking kite.
So me thinking I could pull off a proposal was wishful thinking, especially with my family and hers around to assist me in fucking it up. Not to mention this weekend had turned to shit on more than one occasion with everything that happened in Summerville. A weekend where I wanted to propose had turned into me constantly apologizing for making her cry. So that afternoon, I tried again by taking her to lunch before I had to be back at the track for race day activity.
Trying my luck once more, Emma made reservations for Sway and I so that I could propose. That was the plan at least.
The restaurant was romantic and everything you would think a proposal should be.
Most of the meal, I couldn’t stop thinking about what the fuck I should say. Part of me wanted to blurt it out, part of me wanted to just hand her the ring and hope she magically understood and the other part of me, the scared shitless part, wanted to leave. Not leave Sway, but leave this restaurant for even considering this goddamn idea. It just seemed so cliché now that we’re here. It’s been done hundreds of times. The man pulls out the ring under the candle light and asks the woman he loves to marry him, cliché. That wasn’t us. There was so much more to this than the standard cliché.
She deserved better. We deserved better than a cliché.
While my inner struggles continued, Sway dropped her napkin to the floor when she reached for another bread stick. Automatically I got down on my knee to get it for her, and when I looked up, I almost did it. The words were there but I wasn’t. Like I said, cliché. And after last night, she deserved so much more than a cliché proposal.
Instead, what did I do?
I blurted out will you marry me in Italian because I knew goddamn well she wouldn’t understand. “Mi vuoi sposare?”
Sway blinked curiously when I handed her the napkin, the question hung between us. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead it was that dumb.
“What did you say?” she smiled probably thinking, “Wow, he’s completely lost it.” Either that or she was agreeing to my dumb thought.
“Umm...I said...you’re beautiful.” To add to my problem, “you’re beautiful” came out like a question.
She giggled, eyes scanning the nearby guests and then gestured with a flick of her hand for me to move. “Get off the floor, silly.”
“I can’t do it like this. I’ll do it when it’s right, but right now, like this,” I motioned between us. “just feels rushed.”
“What are you talking about?” Sway asked with a mouth full of food.
“Nothing,” I mumbled completely embarrassed that I didn’t have the fucking balls to do this. “How’s your ravioli?”
“Delicious.” She wiped cheese off her lips and winked.
Another failed attempt, I was never gonna get this right. And to think I still had to race today. With the proposal heavy on my mind and now Darrin, I was hardly ready to race once we got back to the track.
“What would you give up for everything you’ve ever wanted?” was a question my dad often asked me.
The veracity of it was that it was a loaded question that couldn’t be answered without weight.
My grandpa used to tell me, “Jay, you can have anything in life you’ve ever wanted, if you give up everything else for it. There’s a price tag on everything.”
I knew those sacrifices very well by now and had since my first race.
I’ve found that the basis to being a competitive and successful race car driver was what I gave up to do it. Sleep, friends, and any chance at a normal life. I sacrificed it all for the moment when I could call myself a champion. Sure I’d won track championships before and the USAC Triple Crown National title but to have one in the big leagues, that’s what I wanted.
And I’ll admit that there were days when those sacrifices seem worthwhile like winning a race or making a pint sized fans’ day by signing his t-shirt. Then there were days when everything felt like a sacrifice and I didn’t even know myself anymore or why I was doing any of it. Like the other night with Darrin. Those were the times I questioned this lifestyle.
But then there were the parts of my life that I couldn’t figure out why I was giving them up. Not being there for Sway being the biggest.
I can’t say I regretted the decision to become a race car driver but there were times when I honestly felt alone with the lifestyle, the politics, and the overwhelming push to perform.
I couldn’t have normal friendships because what kind of friend wants to hang out on my terms? On the contrary, this was the life I’d chosen and I knew I would always be faced with sacrifices, some I would be okay with and others, well, they were harder to deal with but still I sacrificed for the glory.
What I worried most about were the sacrifices my family was forced to make. Was I worth them giving up any chance at a normal life? Would Sway resent this lifestyle after a few years? Would my brother and sister, two people who have stood by me through everything?
Then there’s Sway. Sure she said she wanted to be with me but if she had told me that she didn’t want to be with me, do you think I would have taken that well?
Highly doubtful.
Getting ready to get inside my car for the race, I had the ring was tucked inside my racing suit because I couldn’t risk Sway finding it in the motor coach or the Lucifer twins exposing me.
Sway stood beside me, enduring the constant repetitive media, all with the same polite smiles. I only wished I had as much patience as she did for all this.
“You were second quickest in practice and qualified on the pole for today’s race. What do you think your chances for a win are?” a reporter I didn’t recognize asked me as I stood next to the car.
Tate walked past me with a smile on his face, tipping his head and offering his best. I did the same and then leaned the direction of the reporter keeping my standard stance the media liked to refer to as the “Rowdy Way”.
“You know with Darlington, it’s a battle with drivers and the track. Everybody goes for it being a night race. There’s a lot of bumpin’ and bangin’, it’s an interesting and exciting race with a track that will add its two sense as well.” I replied. “There’s no telling what can happen. It depends on the other drivers who we’re battling with. If the cards play out, hopefully we’ll pull through with a victory.”
Just like any interview with a pressing reporter looking for the next big story, the interview shifted to my personal life.
“We hear you’re going to be a daddy soon. Does this effect you’re career now? Will the Rowdy Riley finally be tamed?” the reporter smirked.
I laughed shaking my head and deciding on how exactly I would answer.
For a moment, I focused my attention on the new paint scheme of my car for this weekend. It wasn’t unheard of for different sponsors to shell out money to change a paint scheme to promote business sales. This weekend Ayers Manufacturing, who sponsored my sprint cars, teamed with Simplex Shocks and Springs. So my usual black and red car was now white, with red flames and black numbers. I kind of liked it. It reminded me of my USAC midget I used to race in ‘98, the year I won the Triple Crown.
Bobby walked by shaking my shoulder with a roguish punch offering a friendly, “Good luck bud.”
I smiled returning the gesture.
“I really don’t think you can tame me on the track.” I said to the reporter with a laugh. “And yes, we are expecting a child.”
It was surprising to me just how quickly I found myself being conscious of my decisions and how they might influence Sway and the baby. What the media wanted to know wasn’t necessarily what Sway wanted them to know.
“How do you feel about NASCAR’s decision to increase the penalty issued to Darrin after your altercation on the track at Pocono?”
I felt my body tense remembering last night.
Letting out a sarcastic laugh and resisting the urge to shove the microphone us his ass at the sudden shift in the questions, I answered. “I personally don’t think the fine was anywhere near what it should have been.” My tone though sharp, remained composed for the sake of those around me. They didn’t deserve another outburst like the one I had last night; specifically Sway. “NASCAR should have suspended him from racing altogether after what he did. He could have killed me.”
NASCAR had increased the penalty issued to Darrin to $100,000 and upheld the suspension through the end of the year. As far as a lawsuit against Darrin, we had nothing. Hell, we couldn’t even keep him away from us.
Sway must have sensed my discomfort with the conversation and shifted closer, her arm circled around my waist to lean into me.
After the national anthem, a pair of F-16’s flew over and invocation was given. Sway and Emma said their goodbyes before heading to the pit box.
I glared at Emma but hugged her anyway when she wished me luck.
I laughed at Sway’s JAR Racing sweatshirt she put on to hide her bump and dragged her into a tight embrace.
Reaching up, she angled my face toward her to whisper in my ear.
“Prepare yourself. There’s going to be lots and lots of dirty sex for you tonight.”
“I could go for some dirty sex.” I shifted back to gaze at her face as her eyes opened and met mine. Warm emeralds with chocolate flakes. Moments like this never failed to stun me; she loved me with such love and devotion with eyes that matched my own.
Her lips met mine softly. “Good luck.”
“Thank you honey,” I muttered clutching her torso to mine. The moment seemed intimate, maybe even the right moment.
Should I propose now? No, not in front of the entire world, she wouldn’t want that. Or would she?
I was moments away from pulling out the ring and dropping down to one knee when Logan and Lucas approached with Charlie.
“Dude, just do it already.” Logan whined shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You’re being a pu—” Charlie slapped the back of his head before he could say pussy.
“What’s he talking about?” Sway asked eyeing me with suspicion.
I shrugged finding the window net interesting. “Who knows,”
Charlie helped me out throwing Logan over his shoulder. “Keep your mouth shut.” He told him as they walked toward the grandstands.
Sway laughed. “Good luck,” and then she was gone and I was back to my thoughts. A place I didn’t care to be in that moment as none of them made any sense to me.
You could ask any race car driver why they decided to race and they’ll usually all tell you the same thing. It was for the adrenaline rush and the thrill that came with winning. Sure there was that but for me it was different. I did it because that’s what felt natural to me and where I was comfortable. The race track, under the noise of the engine, that’s where I felt at peace. When I was in that car, I was in control, for the most part and it was my quiet place. My time.
Unfortunately, Aiden and Kyle rambling in my ear the entire race disrupted the quiet for me. I’d started on the pole and kept the lead as the laps fell into a rhythm.
Andy Crocket and me battled for fifth for a good ten laps when he pushed up and the Lady in Black bit him bringing out the caution.
“Too fast entering, come back in bud.” Kyle announced when I left pit road after.
“Oh my god!” I slammed my fist down on the wheel. “You have to be fucking kidding me? I lost ground to the twenty. How the fuck does that happen?”
“I don’t know,” he was just as annoyed. “Just come back in.”
Fucking bullshit!
I knew damn well I wasn’t speeding.
Kyle sighed. “Flipping a NASCAR official off is not helping us out here, Jameson.”
“Helping us out would have been never getting the fucking penalty in the first place.” I snapped waiting out our bullshit penalty on pit road, consequently putting us a lap down.
Times like this, I could see my dream for the championship slipping away. I know you’re thinking, “Christ kid, it’s one race.”
See, that’s where you’re wrong. One race can make or break these championships. There’s no room for error on my part or anyone else’s. Wedge adjustment, air pressure, camber, springs, fuel millage, control, crew chiefs, car chiefs, crew members, officials, drivers, and all played parts that decided an outcome of one team on race day. Defined one team. Sometimes, it can be one thing that breaks that glimmer of hope in a hungry team’s eye. So yeah, it could be just one race.
“Just be optimistic.” Kyle urged when I pulled back on the track in forty-third position. “It’s still early. We can do this.”
My response was just a grunt. I was glad he was so positive as I lacked that trait right then.
Nothing in racing goes the way you want. A drive train breaks, an engine lets go. That temperature you kept an eye on all race overheats, the tires you felt vibrating wear down to cords. The gasket your team was sure was sealed, breaks. A lug nut that was thought to be tight shakes loose. The loose handling gets the best of your ability and you slap the wall. Wrong place, wrong position, a lap, a flag, all within five hundred miles. You turn thousands of times and break just as much. Check gauges, get fuel, argue, apologize, it’s all about going in circles. It’s about commitment, and want, and desire, and sacrifice. Most of all, how bad you want it.
