by Shey Stahl
“You kiss me and I will punch you.” I clenched my fist in anticipation that she would try this—she has before. Instead, she giggled and got off me, straightening her tailored clothes I was sure cost more than my rent.
Emma was smaller than I was but the little hooker could knock the wind out of me in a heartbeat. Jameson helped me up, since Emma was obviously distracted by her purchases to realize she’d just laid me flat.
I sat down on the couch and waited for her to attack me again but I knew next time she’d be trying to take my clothes off—which she has also done in the past.
“Where’d Lane go?” Jameson asked taking a seat on the couch next to me with a plate of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables in his hands.
“With Alley at the playground,” Emma didn’t bother looking up as she prodded through the bags. “Found it.” She chirped holding up a skirt that looked like something a woman wore in the stone ages because that’s all the fabric they could spare for clothing.
This indigo denim skirt wouldn’t even cover my ass cheeks.
Then she proceeded to pull out a shirt that for “Emma standards” was actually something I might wear. It was gray sheer fabric with a black swirled design. The sleeves were short and tied up on the shoulders by pieces of the shirt that seemed to be missing on the sides.
It wasn’t bad, for a pit lizard to wear.
If the shoe fits, I might as well wear it. Again, I admitted how pathetic I was.
But it wasn’t the clothing that clenched the deal for me.
When she dug out the black heels, I started to object but was quieted by a low whistle Jameson let out beside me.
“Are you wearing that tonight?” he asked shaking his head slowly. After setting his empty plate aside, his other hand that wasn’t on my shoulder ran through his hair once.
“I uh—”
“Yes, she is.” Emma announced proudly.
Jameson smiled but remained cryptic. “You won’t be introduced to any more people tonight.” He winked at me. “Just so you know.”
What the hell does that mean?
Did that mean he didn’t want people to see me? Did it mean he liked the outfit? By the way he was eyeing the skirt, I decided that was it.
Emma never stopped talking the entire time I was getting dressed in the tiny bathroom of Jameson’s motor coach which by the way, wasn’t all that small. It was certainly bigger than my dorm bathroom and you had to turn sideways just to squat on the toilet in that bathroom.
“You wouldn’t believe it Sway,” she sighed on the other side of the door. “He told me he loves me.”
Tugging on the skirt trying like hell to make it longer, I asked, “Does Spencer and Jameson know?”
“Fuck no, and don’t you tell them.” She smacked the door with her tiny fist. “I mean it, Jameson needs to concentrate on racing and Spencer would go apeshit if he knew I was fucking Aiden.”
I flung the door open; slapping her in the face forgetting the doors opened the wrong way.
“What?” I yelled. “You’re fucking him...when did this happen? How come you didn’t call me?”
Emma was too busy rubbing her forehead where the door smacked her to answer me right away. Turning to look in the mirror, she examined her red mark and then spilled the news. “It happened in Richmond.” She grinned, that same mischievous grin both Spencer and Jameson possessed. The same grin that had you guessing what they were thinking and knowing damn well it was dirty. “I didn’t say anything because you and Jameson talk every day. You would let it slip...I know you.”
True, I couldn’t keep anything from Jameson. Anytime I heard that smooth voice, my will power crumbled and I talked.
On top of that, I couldn’t keep a secret to save me life. It was as if I had the cure to cancer and couldn’t wait to tell everyone. I’m utterly amazed I haven’t told him how I felt yet.
Emma continued to go on-and-on about Aiden and his magic fingers.
I stopped listening around the time she started talking about his ability to make her see stars within thirty seconds because frankly, I was jealous as hell.
Not only did I wish Jameson and I were humping like them but my crankcase hadn’t seen any reciprocating motion in over a year. I was getting desperate. Obviously by what I was wearing.
Inhaling a deep breath, I stepped from the bathroom and looked over my appearance.
Hot damn.
Starting with my hair, long reddish brown messy waves draped a heavy curtain over my shoulders. The shirt came down low enough you could see the faint start of cleavage but left enough to be desired. The skirt, well the skirt was illegal, that’s all there was to it. It covered enough that I wouldn’t be arrested for indecent exposure but if I bent over, that was another story. My legs looked surprisingly long with the heels on though, and muscular.
They looked damn good I must say.
“You look hot,” Emma told me applying some makeup to my face.
Rolling my eyes, I gave in. “Why do you do this to me?” I tried to turn my head towards her but she yanked it back the other way.
“Because you’re trying to convince my big brother he loves you too.”
“Is that so...?”
“I see right through you, Sway.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I know what you’re up to.”
And here I thought I was being sneaky—guess not. I was just an idiot savant after all and made a mental note to work on being sneaky later.
“Do you think he feels the same way?” I whispered. I could feel my cheeks getting hot as soon as I spoke the words. Once they were out, my ears started to glow like one of those glowworm dolls I had when I was younger.
“Sway,” she sighed placing her makeup bag on the counter, pausing for a moment as though she was deciding exacting how to let me down easy. “Jameson...he loves you. It’s easy to see that but with Jameson, he doesn’t know what that love means yet. I don’t know if he ever will. Right now, he’s focused on his career and it’s hard for him to see anything past that right now.”
Well damn, that’s not what I wanted to hear.
I wanted to hear that yes he loves me and wants to go steady. Okay well it’s not nineteen fifty so I didn’t want to hear let’s go steady but I did want to hear that he loved me.
Eventually Emma concluded her Sway-whore make over and let me go. I grabbed my bag from the couch, threw some black flip-flops inside and a black zip up hoodie to cover myself.
I felt exposed.
Emma was still going on and on about Aiden when we walked out of the motor coach but quickly silenced when she saw Spencer standing outside with Alley.
Just one foot out the door and Spencer started howling like an idiot. “Jesus Christ, Sway.” He then proceeded to fan himself.
Jameson, now dressed in his racing suit, had his back turned to us doing an interview with SPEED but looked over his shoulder once he heard Spencer.
He tried to turn around when the reporter asked him a question but his head kept turning back towards me. Stepping down, I stood against the motor coach. I convinced Emma to let me wear the flip-flops for now until later when we had to go to the bar. Even then, I had some concerns about the heels.
The reporter was trying desperately to keep Jameson’s attention but he kept his eyes on me.
“Does the penalty from earlier deter you at all from concentrating tonight?”
“No, I don’t agree with the fine but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.” Jameson peeked at me again. “They watched us add two drums prior to the race so we’ll just have to prove it to them tonight.”
“So what do you think your chances are for a win tonight?” The reporter shoved the microphone in his face. “You’re strong on these 1.5 mile tracks, do you think you can pull it off.”
Still not looking, Jameson answered. “Uh...” he finally turned around but not before his eyes raked down my body once. “I...I think we have a good chance. The car is strong. It’s hard to say what w
ill happen in the race, it’s a long race. A lot can happen in six hundred miles.” He told him while he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, looking over his shoulder once more.
This time his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted a little—like he was trying to figure something out. I thought he was looking at me but his eyes focused behind me on a crowd gathering at the motor coach beside his.
Jameson looked over towards Spencer who was putting on his gear for the pits and motioned with his head for Spencer to come over towards him.
Once he was close enough, Jameson whispered in his ear.
Spencer then nodded and walked back over to us with a smirk.
“What did he want?” Alley asked looking down at her Blackberry. “He needs to get to driver introductions.”
“He wants a moment alone with Sway before driver introductions.” Spencer smiled, his head tipped towards the motor coach. “He said to meet him in the motor coach.”
By that point, I was breathing heavy and my heart started pounding.
What did he want? Did he not like what I was wearing?
“Okay,” I said hesitantly and made my way back inside to wait.
My nerves were getting the best of me and I thought I was going to vomit any second when the door opened causing me to jump.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Jameson said closing the door behind him. He didn’t look up just sat down beside me, staring at my bare legs, shaking his head once. “You’re fucking hot in that outfit.” He said lasciviously leaning into my shoulder.
“Uh...thanks.”
I really wanted to say hot enough for you to...Aww shit stop this.
Jameson started to say something and I missed the first part. I was distracted that he just said I was hot.
“...I just wanted you to know that.” He finished eyeing me cautiously.
“Wait, what?” I asked confused.
“Were you not paying attention to anything I just said?”
“No...I was distracted.”
“Pay attention,” he placed his hand under my chin, his eyes gauging. “Chelsea’s here.”
“What?” I started to panic. What would Chelsea be doing here, in Charlotte, at a NASCAR race of all places? This was just unacceptable to me for a number of reasons I’m sure you could understand. “You mean Chelsea Adams, as in your ex-girlfriend?”
He nodded flinching at the word “girlfriend”.
“She’s here because she’s dating Tate Harris...so I’ve heard.” Jameson let his hand fall from my face leaning back into the couch and groaned. “I think she’s trying to make me jealous or something but fuck, I haven’t seen her in five years.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Jealous...?”
“No...” He gasped, his features revolted. “she can fuck every racer out there for all I care. She’s a bitch.”
“So...?”
“Listen,” he slowly turned his head to look at me. “I just wanted you to know she was here so you weren’t surprised if you saw her. She’s always been jealous of you and I would hate for her to start something tonight.”
“Eh, no worries buddy.” I said dismissively. “You saw what I did to Spencer earlier.”
Jameson laughed loudly. “I’d pay you a million dollars if you threw a spring at her.”
I grabbed his hand with mine shaking it. “Deal,”
“Hurry up asshole.” Alley beat against the door. “You have one minute.”
“All right,” Jameson rolled his eyes. “Be there in a second.” He looked back over at me, and then my legs. “Not what I need to be thinking about.” He murmured with a pensive frown.
The door slammed behind him leaving me wondering what that meant. I sat there for a minute before Emma came back in. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” I followed Emma towards the grid where the cars were starting to line up along pit road in the order they qualified. The setting sun provided a shin over the cars that reminded me of a Saturday night at the local tracks.
Everything on pit road kicked into high gear about three hours before the race with crews setting up shop. Most of the time pit road doesn’t cool down for about two hours after the race. It’s the most stressful part of the track and swarming with various crew members, visitors, officials and drivers.
One word of advice, don’t touch anything and don’t get in their way. They all have a job to do and one simple mistake can cost them the win. I repeat, don’t touch anything. And yes, I say this from experience in all my times spent in the pits at the local dirt tracks. This was no different. Believe me, these guys have everything where they want and need it. Just simply moving a hammer can set everyone off.
I wanted to stay down there until the race started and watch Jameson get in the car, something I really enjoyed about Daytona, but I decided against it when I saw Chelsea hovering around.
An encounter with her wasn’t ideal for me since I hadn’t seen her since high school.
She looked the same, honey blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Her jeans appeared to be painted on and her shirt was so low that I thought I saw a nipple.
I hated her. Maybe despised was a better word. To put it simple, she was perfect and I was plain. She looked like she belonged on a cover magazine and I looked like I belong at the strip club at the way I was dressed.
Casually, Chelsea looked my direction eventually towards Jameson’s car but didn’t make eye contact with me. She probably didn’t recognize me with so little clothing.
Emma caught on by the look on my face. “Rub your tits on the car.”
I choked on my own spit, which is easy to do when you think about it. A quick inhale with the right amount of saliva and you’ve accomplished this. “What?”
“You know, mark your territory.” She pushed me towards the car and I stumbled against the front fender. “Rub you tits on the car.”
I spun around and slapped her across the face, not hard, but enough that I felt I got my point across to her. “There’s something wrong with you.”
Emma did have a point.
I should mark my territory but I wasn’t about to give that little bitch the satisfaction of realizing I was jealous. Not gonna lie, I did think about turning around but decided to keep walking towards the grandstands. There were camera’s everywhere, surely, I’d be caught and Charlie would blow a head gasket if he saw the funbags on display for national television.
Before driver introductions began Emma, Alley and I made our way to the private suite in the upper Terrace Ford grandstands. Jameson’s sponsor, Simplex Shocks and Springs, had the entire room rented out—most of which was occupied by corporate representatives but his family was also up there.
I had yet to see Jimi and Nancy so when I walked into the suite, I wasn’t surprised to see them already sitting there with Lane, who was bouncing up and down with his little Simplex hat and shirt on. He looked adorable sporting his Uncles gear.
“Where’s Aiden?” Jimi asked towards Emma, his cell phone to his ear.
“...uh...how should I know,” She mumbled, I could tell she was starting to get nervous.
“Cut the shit, Emma.” Jimi glared her direction. “Kyle needs to talk to him.”
Emma sighed in relief, visibly relaxing. “He is in the spotter stands.”
Jimi turned back to his phone and began talking to Kyle again while I made my way over to Nancy.
“I’m so glad you could make it sweetie.” Nancy swept me into a hug. “We’ve missed you.”
Over the years, Nancy Riley had become a mother to me. Since my mom died when I was only six, I needed womanly advice from time to time—Nancy never let me down.
Even the time I started my period in class in the eighth grade, she was there to take me to the store for tampons and even showed me how to use the damn things since the kid behind the counter at the mini-mart couldn’t show me.
This was also not something I would allow Charlie to do.
&nbs
p; Could you blame me?
It looked as though a homicide took place in my underwear. I hardly wanted to share that with anyone let alone my dad. I had a hard enough time convincing myself I wasn’t dying. I honestly thought I was bleeding internally.
“I’m glad I did too.” I sniffled against her shoulder letting an emotional tear or two slip. “I hate being away from everyone.”
Before I had a chance to really have an emotional breakdown, Emma nudged my shoulder.
With a good amount of enthusiasm, I stood up and looked down towards the center of the track in time to see Jameson approach the line of drivers waiting to be introduced and Lane running towards me.
“Auntie Sway!” he screamed.
I reached down and picked him up. “Hey buddy, how are you?” I tickled his sides and he squirmed in my arms, letting out a small giggle. “Look, who’s that?” I pointed towards Jameson who walked onto the stage as the track announcer said his name.
“Jameson Riley, driver of the No. 9 Simplex Ford!”
The entire place erupted with screams that was almost deafening as they caught a glimpse of Jameson approaching the stage.
“Where my daddy at?” Lane asked Alley as I handed him over to her.
“He’s in the pits buddy,” she ruffled his honey-dusted hair. “If you watch closely right there you can see him when uncle Jameson pits.” She pointed to Jameson’s pit stall. “He will be the one carrying the jack.”
Spencer was on Jameson’s over the wall pit crew who took the jack around both sides of the car during the pit stops.
Smiling, I took a deep breath when Lane started rambling on about Jameson and how he was going to be a race car driver just like him someday.
My focus wasn’t with this adorable boy but with greatness below making his was on stage. Jameson stopped, waved to the crowd and then made his way from the stage, the vulnerability undulating from his quick humble exit from the overpowering crowd.
This was all so new to him that he hadn’t had a chance to adapt to it. He stumbled through his freshman season so far, though he was doing well, he wasn’t interested in politics of it all and the ever present curiosity into his alluring mystique. Racing, for Jameson, was an outlet for so much more than anyone would ever understand.
