Trading Paint

by Shey Stahl

“Fuck it.” I took a deep breath, braced my hands on the doorframe and kicked as hard as I could. Much to my surprise, the door came crashing down.

  Sway, Tommy and I just stood there looking at each other, amazed I was able to kick it down, when Sway giggled and then stopped abruptly and gazed at me with a completely blank expression before saying. “I don’t think it’s his apartment.”

  Twelve doors later, we still hadn’t found his apartment and I was positive this was not a good thing. My legs were sore, Sway was sweating profusely and Tommy had shot up everything with that damn paint ball gun. We had to get out of there before the police came because surely someone had to of noticed the breaking of doors by now. Also, I don’t know if I need to point this out, but some of the doors we broke down, people were home.

  Sway and I hid behind a group of trees when we heard police cars and what was Tommy doing?

  He was loading his damn paint ball gun—in plain view.

  I decided by myself that since I broke down the doors, it was up to Sway to get him. I leaned back in the grass panting. I did just break down twelve apartment doors. I was exhausted. “Go get him.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.” I kept my expression grave and not friendly. “At some point everyone must take one for the team. Guess whose turn it is?”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes, now go.” I swatted her ass when she stood brushing the grass from her jeans.

  This had bad idea written all over it but so did this entire mission. My paranoid thoughts were confirmed just moments later when the police swerved into the parking lot, shinning their lights on Sway and Tommy, holding a paint ball gun, dressed in all black.

  It couldn’t have looked much worse than that.

  There has been a few times in my life when I thought, “Well that should have gone differently.” Now wasn’t any different. We should have thought this through a little more.

  Sway wasn’t impressed and had me cornered as they questioned Tommy about the paint ball gun, at this point, they didn’t know it was us that broke down all those doors. “Listen, you got me into this mess,” she not so calmly replied shoving my chest. “Get me out of it!”

  This was going to take some persuasion on my part, highly analytical persuasion skills. Just as I was about to explain to the cops that we were only searching for the guy that keyed the red dragon, a crazed tenant, who we broke down their door, showed up pointing fingers.

  “They broke down my door for no reason!” she yelled in the officer’s face.

  “You have no proof of that,” was my genies response. I did in fact have cuts all over my hands and splintered chunks of wood covering my jeans. Couldn’t have been more obvious.

  There all three of us were in the cop car with Sway on my lap because she refused to sit next to Tommy. She blamed him for this, which was fine by me because it was my fault, my idea at least.

  Being inside the cop car was another story. Sway wouldn’t stop moving around on my lap. It didn’t take long before she noticed the reaction is was causing.

  “Are you...is that your...?” She had the most adorable blush spreading across her cheeks.

  “In my defense...you’re wriggling around in my lap.”

  Sway giggled.

  “Should I...I mean,” she cleared her throat. “I should get off.”

  I grinned. “You’re welcome too,” I implied lasciviously winking at her. “but if you stay, I might.”

  Apparently that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard because she started laughing hysterically to the point where I have to hold her up. Tommy just grumbled next to us. He was more upset that the cop now how his paint ball gun.

  Once they had our ID’s and ran background checks, I’m sure they saw Sway and I already had B&E’s on our records and also theft but they were distracted by me. Like I said before, racing in a NASCAR series, I was becoming someone people recognized by just the name.

  So here the officer came, smiling. “You’re Jameson Riley, like the driver of the number nine car?”

  “Yeah,” I moved Sway off my lap. She giggled again when I had to adjust myself. “Are we free to go?”

  His smile grew when his partner approached the car. I was all about getting out of this mess without jail time. I didn’t think my dad or Simplex would appreciate me being arrested when I was supposed to be in Vegas tomorrow.

  This went on for a few minutes, the officers asking me questions completely unrelated to the crimes we committed. I was fine with that as long as we weren’t arrested but I also began to think we’d be here most of the night by the way they were talking.

  How all this was relevant to our situation was not lost by me.

  They were both a bunch of weirdo’s but I had a real problem with the shorthaired blonde officer who kept eyeing Sway.

  “Are we free to go?” I finally asked leaning against the side of the car.

  “Yes, but it appears you may need to pay for those doors you broke.” The blonde officer said to me.

  “I’ll pay for ‘em.” I said. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  “I’m sure.” He remarked with a sour edge.

  I’m sure he was thinking I was trying to use the fact that his partner was star stuck by me but that was beside the point. I had to be in Vegas tomorrow, I couldn’t be arrested right now. I should have thought of this earlier in the day when we planned this escapade but I was too caught up in paying back this asshole that keyed Sway’s truck almost daily. I didn’t think of the consequences, which was usual for me and Sway, she did everything on a whim and looked at the consequences later. Tommy, well in his defense, he had orange hair, we shouldn’t expect much decision making from him in general.

  In the end, I handed my credit card over to the apartment maintenance manager. Tommy’s paint ball gun was confiscated and Sway found the dude that keyed her truck, keying her truck again.

  Let’s just say he won’t be keying any more cars in the near future.

  “That was awesome.” Sway said once we were back in the truck. Only having two seats, she made Tommy sit in the bed. By the time we reached our destination in downtown Bellevue, a nightclub by the name of Vertigo, Tommy’s hair looked much like the time we got caught in the tornado.

  Abby, Tommy’s girlfriend met us there and thought his new orange hairdo was pretty awesome. I liked Abby, she was good for Tommy and let’s face it, he and his orange hair needed someone special.

  We spent the remainder of the night dancing and drinking. Sway and I got a little frisky and I was having a hard time keeping my hands to myself. I pretty much lost most control I was wavering with when she downed her last beer and drug me out on the dance floor.

  I hated being hung over. Most of all, I hated being dehydrated when I had a race the next day.

  Racing sprint cars, it wasn’t as bad because your feature event wasn’t longer than fifty laps. I think your body worked harder to control the car in a sprint car but stock cars were just as physically demanding but also, mentally demanding because you had to constantly think strategy. Now instead of making fifty laps I was making three hundred.

  Leaving Sway in Bellingham was hard. We had so much fun together it was difficult to leave. I was so close to giving in at the bar that last night, I honestly think if I wouldn’t have gotten so drunk, I just might have acted on what I was feeling that night but no, I got scared and downed as much alcohol as I could and left myself a mess.

  “I thought for sure that you two were gonna...” Tommy said when as we headed for baggage claim.

  “Yeah...” I hung my head. “I almost did.”

  Tommy came to Las Vegas with me and then he was off to Mooresville to see my dad about the sprint car team. I told him he could either work on the Busch team or sprint cars and he chose sprint cars. I couldn’t blame him. That’s essentially where I wanted to be too. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed racing these stock cars but you have to understand that’s where I came from, it was in my blood.


  We landed in Vegas, Aiden met us there and we drove to Las Vegas Motor Speedway where I was met with yet another girl I despised these days, a reporter for FOX Sports, Ashley Conner. She reminded me of Chelsea but with black hair. As you can probably guess, I slept with her one night after my first Busch series win in Nashville back in February. I’d avoided her ever since because really, I did this all the time.

  She caught me when I entered the paddock looking for Spencer and Kyle.

  “Why haven’t you called?” she asked keeping step with me.

  I didn’t look her direction just stared straight ahead. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “Well we slept together.” She said this like it meant something. “I thought you’d at least call.”

  “I don’t know what you expected this to be?” I motioned between us. I’d seen her around the track; she slept with most of the drivers so I couldn’t understand what would make me any different.

  “Not this...you led me on and now this...” she threw her arms up.

  I hung my head walking. It was the same shit all the time and you’d think I’d learn by now. “What do you want Ashley? What do you want from me?”

  “You,”

  “No,” I shook my head. “You don’t really.”

  “Yes I do.”

  I stopped walking and turned toward her.

  “No, you don’t.” I tried to convey the warning I was giving her but I could see she wasn’t buying it.

  “You have a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t do girlfriends.”

  “So what is it then?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  She sighed dramatically and shifted her weight to one foot. Her black hair blew across her face until she tucked it behind her ear. I looked into her blue eyes, watching as she finally grasped what I was saying.

  “Don’t act like it meant anything to you either.” I chuckled despite my annoyance with the situation. Spencer appeared at the corner of the hauler watching us from about twenty feet away. “The next weekend in California I saw you all over Mason.”

  I may not have cared about these girls but I was well aware of the fact that they were usually with another driver by the following weekend. They were not about to make me feel like shit when they were using me for the exact same reasons.

  I started to walk away when she just gave me that blank expression. When I approached the hauler Spencer laughed and tossed a bottle of water at me, his head tilted toward Ashley who was still standing where I left her.

  “Making the rounds?”

  “Fuck you,” was my only response as I tossed my bag on the ground.

  You would think by now I would have learned to stay away from these women but you also have to understand that the need was there and so were they. It was wrong but it went hand in hand. Everywhere I went, women hounded me and sooner or later, I crumbled and gave in. Now I had to pay the consequences. Ever since I won my first race in Nashville, it was worse than ever.

  Before practice started, I was waiting for Kyle and the car chief, Mason Bryant, to finish up the notes from last week’s testing here. They entered the data and then calculated a setup that would work for practice. We usually liked to practice in race trim, change a few small adjustments for qualifying and then revert to race trim for happy hour. After the cars were inspected prior to the race no more changes could be made so you had to be pleased by that point.

  While I waited beside the car, my phone buzzed.

  Are you still alive?

  I laughed. Yes.

  Good.

  Good?

  Yes. Just good.

  Hmmm. Good.

  Good luck?

  Yes. Good luck is needed. My head still hurts.

  Yeah well so do my legs.

  How so? I kicked down the doors. Not you.

  Dancing.

  Mmmm. Forgot about the dancing.

  I’m hurt.

  I didn’t forget about the body shots.

  Good?

  Kyle nudged me when he walked past. “Practice time lover boy. Put that shit away.”

  Gotta go.

  Bye.

  It took me a few laps to get focused but I did. The car was setup the way I liked it so we didn’t make that many laps. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Sway again that night with all the meet and greets Simplex had me doing and then before I knew it Saturday was here and it was time for the race.

  So far, I’d won two races in the Busch series this race and was well on the way to my third when another driver, Dave Lutz, got into the side of me and took us both out. Ordinarily I would have been upset with this but I had such a pounding headache and he didn’t mean to wreck me. Dave was a nice guy and would never intentionally wreck someone just to advance in position.

  Marcus caught up with me after the race and suggested that my team and I head over to the Caesars Palace after the team meeting where Simplex was throwing an after party.

  Having nothing else to do that night, we decided to make an appearance. Much to our surprise, they didn’t serve beer, only wine and champagne. That was not impressive to me or Aiden and Spencer. This was even worse news for Simplex because as it turns out, wine doesn’t agree with Aiden.

  Three bottles later, yes three bottles of red wine later, we were all three annihilated. I was in no condition to be drinking another night but when you’re twenty-one and have a brother like Spencer, he convinces you that drinking is a good idea.

  Aiden could barely speak let alone stand in one spot without swaying.

  Spencer once against smelled blood and thought now was a good time to embarrass the poor country boy.

  “I bet you can’t chug that entire bottle of wine.” he prodded Aiden.

  Too late, before Spencer even got the words out Aiden had half the bottle gone.

  If you’ve never chugged a bottle of wine, I don’t suggest it, it’s not enjoyable.

  Poor Aiden.

  By the end of the night, Aiden somehow lost his shirt, shoes and socks and walked back to the hotel half-naked.

  I wasn’t any better when I thought I could table dive and ended up with three stitches about my left eye when a glass bowl broke against my head in the process.

  Two pain pills later, a night with the nurse who stitched me up, I was curled up on the floor of my hotel room puking my guts out and swore I would never ever drink again.

  The nurse, who I have no idea what her name was, came to check on me before she slipped out of my hotel room.

  “Who’s Sway?” she asked examining my face while she threw her lipstick in her bag.

  “Huh?” I asked not even bothering to lift my head again, I knew it would hurt too badly.

  “Umm...Sway. Is she your girlfriend or something?”

  “Did she call?” I couldn’t understand why she’d be asking about Sway. I never mentioned her to anyone but family.

  “No...it’s just that when we were in bed last night you...” she looked down at her bare feet shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “When you...well last night, you called me Sway. More than once,”

  Well shit.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting to work?” I asked.

  I knew I was being rude but it was none of her business who Sway was and I didn’t feel like I needed to explain my situation to a complete stranger.

  “Yeah...I should.” She agreed. “See you around Jameson.”

  I didn’t say another word to her, partly because I was in no shape to. It hurt to even blink let alone speak.

  I spent the majority of the morning in that bathroom. Later I found out Aiden never even made it to his room but instead spent the night, naked, on a white Persian rug in the lobby of the hotel until security found him.

  To this day, I haven’t touched a drop of wine and neither has Aiden.

  I also, had some serious battery searching to do.

  That something I knew had to give, was teetering on the edge and needed to be either tipped
the rest of the way, or rescued all together.

  Not only did I hate sleeping around but it was evident I couldn’t keep doing it. I was tired of explaining myself to them. I didn’t want to be known as the driver that made his rounds with the girls.

  I was here to race, not get a reputation and judging by Ashley’s comments, I felt I was heading in the wrong direction. It just seemed like I’d come to a point where I didn’t know myself. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this guy that slept around and treated women like shit and most of all, lied to myself.

  It was time to find the batteries.

  20. Bladder – Jameson

  Bladder – Located inside the tail tank, the bladder holds fuel and keeps the fuel from spilling and catching fire in case of a rear impact.

  In late August after the Bristol race, I was heading out to Knoxville for the World of Outlaws Nationals.

  The Busch series had a by-week the following week so schedules lined up and I jumped on the chance to get back behind the wheel of a sprint car.

  After I signed with Simplex, I got the same standard question from everyone when I showed up at the local bullring dirt tracks: “What are you doing?”

  What did they expect me to do?

  It wasn’t like I would settle for bowling in my spare time. I started racing because that’s what I loved to do. Just because I’d been signed with a team and they were paying me to do what I loved, didn’t mean I lost that desire to race at the bullrings.

  When I asked Sway one afternoon if I should stop, she again offered her timeless advice.

  “The people asking you to quit don’t understand why you’re doing it in the first place. It’s what you do, it’s all you’ve ever know. So you now have a job doing it. That doesn’t mean you give up what relaxes you.”

  Everyone thought because I was now being paid to race that I had it easy but that’s not the truth at all. I had stress, lots of it. I had sponsors breathing down my neck, my dad watching my every move, women hounding me and to top it off, I was falling for my best friend. So when I’m stressed, I act like any other twenty-two year old, I do what relaxes me, racing.