by Shey Stahl
Air pressure, track changed, shoddy pit stops, a handful of cautions for debris, the entire race went this way and I wasn’t surprised to see I finished thirty-second.
If I kept this shit up—we could forget about any chance at the championship. As I sat right now, with four DNF’s I was now fourth in the race for the championship, not good in my mind.
With a new team, I understood the time for transition but this was out of our control. I still felt we were unstoppable but I also couldn’t see past the frustration in the heat of the moment.
When my anger past and gained some composure, I walked back to the motor coach to gather my bags and then head to Orlando.
Bobby stopped me, his expression similar to mine. “Hey dude, how’d you finish?”
“Thirty-second,” I mumbled pulling my sweatshirt over my shoulders and began walking again. “It was rough out there.”
“You did better than me; I ended up thirty-eighth.” Bobby kept step with me. “I wanted to talk to you about Darrin.”
“Oh yeah,” I turned towards him. “What about?”
A few lingering fans at the entrance to the drivers compound pushed forward for autographs to which we offered.
“I’ve heard some things in the garage...looks like he’s out for blood this time.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked grimly, tired of this shit. Everyone wanted to warn me about Darrin but had nothing to warn me about, no hard evidence as to what he had planned.
“He wants to end you career, Jameson.”
“Oh,” I said sarcastically stopping outside my motor coach. “And how does Darrin plan on doing that?”
“By wrecking you...” Bobby’s brown eyes held nothing by worry. “Listen Jameson,” he shifted his weight, deciding his delivery. “I’m not one to get caught up in this bullshit of he said she said, but when it comes to my teammate, a person who I have the utmost respect for, I pay attention. I know Darrin—I’ve known him since my days racing quarter midgets. You’re not the first person he’s threatened their career with. And if he succeeds, you wouldn’t be the first person whose career was ended by him.” His expression was blank, his eyes gauging me.
“Who?”
“My best friend, when I was nineteen. We were racing out of Knoxville Raceway. Darrin and Kasey had been battling all season in the Silver Crown Series.”
“Kasey O’Neil?”
Bobby nodded. “The race wasn’t tapped so no one knows really what happened, but I was behind Kasey the entire time.” Bobby took a deep breath. “I watched as Darrin purposely clipped his left rear.”
Spencer walked out of the motor coach, leaning against the side as Bobby continued. “When Kasey’s car finally came to a rest against the guardrails there was nothing left. The roll cage failed and was crushed on top of him.” Emotion welled up in his eyes before collecting himself quickly. “He died on the way to the hospital from massive head injuries.”
“I heard about him,” Spencer said. “His dad races on the World of Outlaw series with our dad, Langley O’Neil, right?”
Bobby nodded. “Yep,” He shifted his feet and then looked towards me again. “Just be careful.” He stared at me with obvious doubt in his eyes. “I thought he hated Kasey, but Kasey was nowhere near the driver you are. I’ve never seen someone do the things you can do in a race car Jameson.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
“I suggest you steer clear of him.” Bobby eyes shifted to Spencer who snorted. “If you run into him on the track, let him go. It’s not worth it.”
“I will not pull back.” I replied undeterred. “If he wants to end my career, let him try. I’m going to race him the same as I race any other driver out there.”
Bobby shook his head, frustrated. “I’ll see you in Pocono.” He patted my back, shook Spencer’s hand and then walked towards the heli-pad.
Here’s the thing, I’d encountered cocky drivers before and what I learned most was ignorance to the situation. The more you knew; the more frustrated and involved you became with them and failed to concentrate on why you were racing in the first place.
Once I landed in Orlando, I tried calling Sway but it was almost midnight her time so I assumed she was probably sleeping.
Aiden and Spencer came with me to Orlando and brought Lane. Once we landed, he was complaining about being hungry. Having a hungry 3-year old was something none of us were willing to deal with. This was how we ended up at an Applebee’s in the airport.
“Can you believe this fucking service?” Spencer complained looking over his shoulder. “It’s an airport, I’ll give them that much but seriously, I asked for a beer like an hour ago.”
“Keep your voice down.” Aiden hushed him when an elderly lady balked at his reaction. “You’re offending people.” Aiden’s eyes dropped back to the menu. He’d yet to figure out what to eat. After all, this decision usually took hours for him.
“They’re offended? Jesus...” Spencer snapped. “It’s not like I pissed in their potatoes.”
Ahh...it’s good to be around the boys.
“Jameson,” Spencer began slouching to one side of his chair. “What do you think of what Cole said?”
Resting my elbows against the table, I ran my hands through my hair and then along my jaw. “I...don’t know. I get that everyone is trying to warn me but I’m not going to stop racing just because some jealous fucker can’t get over the fact that his girlfriend wanted my dick...” my voice trailed off when I realized Lane was present. “I mean penis.”
Spencer just laughed. I had a feeling Lane was use to this cause he never looked up, just continued his coloring.
“I don’t understand how Darrin gets away with half the shit he’s pulls on the track.” Aiden added pouring himself a glass of beer from the pitcher the server finally brought over. “It’s like NASCAR just looks the other way.”
Placing the hot wings in the middle of the table, the waitress focused on me. “Is there anything else I can get you, honey?” she pushed her tits together leaning forward.
“No, that’s all.” I smirked when Spencer and Aiden started laughing.
Knowing Spencer was moments away from embarrassing me, I turned my head towards Lane. “What are you coloring buddy?”
His answer was to push a red crayon in my hand. A clear indication I was to color, I assumed.
The waitress didn’t leave. Instead, she bent down to my ear and whispered. “Here’s my number, call me later. I’m off at ten.”
I pulled back to look at her nametag. “Jen is it?”
She nodded with a flirtatious smile; her hand rubbed my back.
Dropping the crayon, I reached for the note she placed in my pocket and handed the note back to her. “I have a girlfriend.”
“She doesn’t have to know,” was her response.
Aiden made a disgusted snorting sound, Spencer grinned.
Lane, who’d said little since his tantrum getting off the plane, piped up in his little chipmunk voice. “Yes she does, I’ll tell her. I love my auntie Sway.” He never even looked up from his coloring.
There wasn’t a straight face around our table as we laughed at Lane. Jen left.
I didn’t think he could hear her let alone understand what she was implying. Though Spencer acts stupid, he is not. I was beginning to realize Lane was the same way.
Eventually the conversation drifted back to Darrin when our food arrived.
“You know who his aunt is, right?” Spencer asked Aiden who couldn’t understand why Darrin wasn’t being held more accountable for his behavior on the track.
“No, who?” we both asked.
“Deanna Reynolds.”
Reynolds? I only knew one Reynolds that would make for...That would mean Gordon was Darrin’s uncle.
“No shit?” I choked on my beer. “How did you find this out?”
“The power of Google my dear brother,” he nodded his head arrogantly. “You’d be amazed what is available on the inte
rnet.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” I took another drink of my beer. “You’re actually kind of clever.”
“I am really clever. People think I’m stupid but I’m really not.” he shrugged. “Shit, have you seen Lane?” he started looking for his son, who we thought was still coloring beside us.
Alley really should have thought twice before she allowed us to take Lane with us. But then again, she should be able to trust his father at some point. I’d like to think Spencer had grown since leaving Lane at the grocery store and bringing home the wrong child.
When we found him, I burst out laughing. Lane was peeing in the corner of the restaurant. A waitress with wide-eyes was telling him he shouldn’t do that.
Lane’s response, “I can’t read signs. I’m three.” He shrugged. “How’d I suppose to know that the bathroom? I had to pee.”
Aiden nudged my arm watching Spencer try to explain why his son was peeing in the corner of the restaurant. “Do you think that’s why Darrin hasn’t been penalized?”
“He has been penalized for his actions.” I clarified pouring myself another beer. “Just...not enough.” My eyes shot up when I heard my name announced in the distance. “He won’t stop until I’ve given up. But I’m not going to.”
Aiden stared at me warily. “Jameson, just be careful.”
My name was said again, this time by another group of people near the entrance of the small restaurant. I knew then my time here was up, or at least my quiet time here was at an end.
“I didn’t get where I’m at today by being vigilant, Aiden.”
I understood why everyone was warning me but I will be damned if I was going to let Darrin Torres push me around or end my career—a career that I worked so hard for and sacrificed so much for.
The night fell into a steady pace of signing autographs and posing for pictures. Somewhere in between all this, my attention shifted towards Spencer and Lane.
It made me think of Sway, wondering if she was in fact pregnant. I wanted to ask Spencer what Alley was like but I knew what that would turn into—I had no intentions for brotherly bonding right now. It’d probably be more embarrassing than informational, especially with the intuitive Aiden around.
Staying in a hotel room with two beds, three adults and a three year old was not exactly the best experience I’d ever had, including the night I was stalked by a deadly predator that had every intention of mating with me.
Never again would I do that again, both camping in the woods and sleeping in the same room with these crazies.
Between Spencer’s snoring, Aiden’s concern for Darrin and general quirkiness, and Lane saying he had to pee every five minutes...I wanted to rip my fucking hair out.
I finally had to say, “Listen, when you have to pee, just go.”
It was as though he had a bladder the size of a goddamn humming bird.
I wasn’t wild about his lack of bladder control and felt as though we’d made a connection about when to go and when not to around midnight.
All that went to shit when he took my advice of “Just go” literally and peed in the goddamn bed.
When Wednesday rolled around, I was once again back to racing and grateful not to have to be around them all day.
Instead, I was back in Sarver racing sprint cars with Justin West and Tyler Sprague.
Lernerville Speedway was a 4/10 mile dirt track located right outside of Pittsburg Pennsylvania. Being back on the dirt reminded me of the good ole days when Sway was with me every day.
When speaking with her throughout the week, she avoided my lingering questions all together. I threatened to fly home if she didn’t tell me what was bothering her but again she changed the subject to something inconsequential. I had a gut feeling she knew she was pregnant but was afraid to tell me.
So many times, I typed out the text message to her, asking if she was pregnant but erased it when I realized that was retarded.
You don’t ask something like that through text messages, even I knew that.
As soon as I landed in Pocono later that week, race day was there before I knew it. Media, sponsor obligations and team meetings filled my days.
I qualified second, behind Darrin. This meant that we both visited the NASCAR hauler prior to the race where Gordon explained that they would not tolerate any bullshit on the track today.
I just chuckled to myself that here Gordon was telling his nephew this. If only I’d known that months ago all this would have made much more sense.
Darrin was hardly a good driver. Sure, he could drive, there was no way to make it to this level without the ability but he didn’t have it in him to be a champion in the series and he lacked a serious sense of sportsmanship.
I tried calling Sway before the race but it went straight to voicemail once again. The Modified Nationals were last night in Elma so I assumed she had a late night.
Making my way towards the grid for driver introductions, I saw Alley approaching me, in tears.
Alley never cried.
She slipped her Blackberry in her pocket before she approached me. Wrapping my arms around her, I attempted to comfort her. “What’s wrong?”
“Jameson...you can’t go out there today.” She choked on her tears, her eyes held worry.
“What?” I pulled back holding her at an arm-length. “What are you talking about?”
“Mariah...she...told...” she blinked quickly. “I overheard her on her cell phone...in the bathroom.” Alley wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her Simplex sweatshirt. “He’s going to wreck you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I mumbled with a sigh. “Look, Alley...I get that everyone is concerned, I really do. But this is my job. If I don’t go out there and do what Simplex and my dad are paying me to do, we lose sponsorship. That means...I lose my ride and you’re out of a job too,”
“I know but—”
“I have to get to driver introductions.” Holding my hand up, I began to walk away. “Just let me handle this, please. Stay out of it.”
Alley followed nodding. Watching her, I could tell something else was wrong; her body language was different. This wasn’t just about Darrin. Her eyes flickered to mine once and then quickly towards the ground.
“What are you not telling me?”
She grimaced looking away. “Nothing Jameson,” Alley reached up, her arms snuck around my neck for a hug. “Be careful. We’ll talk after the race.”
“No, no...what is it?” I forced her to look at me. My stomach fell as I thought something might be wrong with Sway. “Is everything okay with Sway?”
“Sway is fine.” She met my tortured expression quickly diverting her eyes. “Axle...” her voice trailed off and I knew what she was telling me.
He died.
Nodding, my eyes fell to my feet and I began to walk away. I thought I heard her mumble an “I’m sorry”, but I couldn’t be sure over the loud thumping in my ears.
An hour later and one trip to the bathroom to compose myself for interviews, I was standing next to my car, doing pre-race interviews, trying my hardest not to get emotional over that little boy who fought so hard to make it.
Ashley approached me as I leaned up against the car with Spencer.
Spencer being Spencer attempted to embarrass me. “Hey Ashley, how’s the vertical smile these days?” he laughed slapping me on the back.
“Ask Jameson, he’d know,” Ashley snarked back.
“Uh...no...I would not,” I interrupted their bantering. “Is there something you want Ashley?”
Ashley turned on her faux smile, glaring towards Spencer. “So Jameson, you’re starting second...how’s the car?” she shoved her recorder in my face.
“I think we should do good.” I answered methodically. “It’s the same engine from the car we used her a few months ago.”
We couldn’t use the car because that was destroyed, thanks to Darrin. Looking out towards his car, it finally dawned on me why Darrin chose Pocono to supposedly wreck m
e.
I wrecked him here in June.
Kyle walked up once Ashley left. “Hey,” he patted my back. “let’s get ready. Keep focused.”
How the fuck was I supposed to stay focused?
I couldn’t get in touch with Sway, which always threw me off. Axle...I couldn’t even say it...Darrin...fuck. .
Putting all that aside, I had a job to do. I went through my ritual, putting my ear buds in, then helmet, gloves. Spencer bumped my fist and wished me luck, as he did before every race and raised the window net.
Every Sunday and the occasional Saturday night, when I fired up my cup car, Spencer was the one who put my window net up—always had been and would remain. In time and by habit, it was sort of our ritual dating back to the days when I raced midgets and sprint cars. He was always the last person I saw before pulling onto the track.
“All right bud, stay focused.” Kyle told me once I had the radio connected. “Keep your head clear. You can do this. We have an awesome car today, shows what you got.”
“I’ll do my best guys.” I responded once he gave the order to fire up the engine.
The race was tedious for the first half until Darrin found me again. Once the green flag dropped, I passed him fairly quickly but now he was back, or maybe he was there all along just waiting for his moment.
Having led the last hundred and sixty laps, I damn sure wasn’t about to give the lead up easily.
“Clear low...outside rear...at your door...rear...clear,” Aiden helped me through the lapped traffic; Darrin was all over the back of me. “Cautions out...stay low...sixty car is spinning in two...in the grass. Watch low, there may be some oil down.”
“What do you think?” Kyle asked when the pace car pulled ahead of me. “Changes?”
“Uh...maybe a round out of the rear, other than that...we’re good.”
“Okay,” Kyle then gave the orders to Mason. “You heard him. Round out of the right rear, make a slight air pressure adjustment, four tires and fuel,”
Keeping my eyes on Darrin’s pit, the team scrambled to make the changes in under twelve seconds. Knowing Darrin was going to try something, I had to be on guard for anything at that point, including pit road.
