The Champion (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  I met Colin on Saturday and didn’t think too highly of him. I quickly put him in his place when he winked at me.

  “No, no!” I told him pushing him against the wall of the media center before Jameson saw. “You fuck with me or Jameson and I will rip your balls off.”

  I must have been intimidating because he apologized and had been racing Jameson clean today, so far.

  “We can do this, just be patient and charge to the front.” Kyle said after they fell back to tenth when a lug nut stuck on the right rear during a pit stop.

  “Cautions out, cautions out...smoker in turn two,” Aiden told him around lap two hundred.

  “Who is it?”

  “Forty-two, stay high.”

  “Pit road is ooopppeeen.” Aiden exclaimed. “Watch the ten car...he’s taken fuel only.”

  I was surprised he was returning to a normal mood. All weekend he and Emma had been fighting, and refused to tell anyone why. I decided to try again.

  “What’s with you and Aiden?”

  “Nothing...why?” she responded without looking up from her magazine.

  “Well for one, you two have barely spoken these last few days and two, you haven’t stopped crying.”

  Emma finally looked up from her magazine and glanced over at Axel, then back to me.

  “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Emma was the type of girl that cared so much about everyone else she put her own feelings aside. She was crazy, yes, but she was probably the best friend and sister anyone could ask for.

  I didn’t mind crazy people for two reasons: If not for pure entertainment value—they made you feel slightly better in regards to your own sanity. For this reason, I surrounded myself with them.

  “I never did thank you for everything you’ve done lately...thanks.” I said slinging my arm around her tiny shoulders. “With the wedding...the baby shower...all of it, thank you.”

  She burst into tears. “You’re...welcome.” She wailed clinging to me.

  “Okay see...something’s wrong...what is it?”

  As the race continued, Emma poured her heart out to Nancy and me. She explained that Aiden was feeling neglected by her spending all her time planning the wedding and then Charlie’s funeral and on top of that...she was pregnant.

  The worst part was that Aiden told her they weren’t ready for kids and the she should have talked to him about it before she went off her birth control pills. Which she didn’t.

  Emma was so excited by everyone having babies or becoming pregnant, she stopped taking them—without his knowledge. This wasn’t the first time Emma did something without thinking clearly—she had a tattoo on the back of her neck that would make most men blush.

  As the race neared the end, so did our conversations. There really wasn’t much advice I could offer Emma besides being there for her if she needed to talk. Nancy was too focused on the fact that there would once again be another baby for her to love...and knit for.

  When the caution waved, Jameson came on the radio. “Whew...it’s incredible how fast this thing is now.”

  “I take it that means no changes?” Kyle laughed.

  “You touch anything besides my tires and I’ll kick your ass, Kyle.” Jameson teased.

  “I’d like to see that.” Aiden added.

  “How many tires did Paul take?” Jameson asked once they were back on the track. Paul must have only taken two because he beat Jameson out of the pits to land himself in first place.

  “Two.”

  “Fuck!”

  “We can still catch him.”

  “Glad you’re so positive.” Jameson let out a chuckle, the radio cracked.

  “You should try it sometime.”

  “Nah...I’ll like being real.”

  Around lap two-fifty Paul did the same move he pulled earlier to pass Jameson for second again.

  “Did he just...?” You could hear Jameson groan over the radio. “Man, that sucks.”

  “Yep,”

  “Didn’t see that one coming,”

  “Neither did I...” Kyle replied.

  It seemed as though Jameson had some competition this year between Bobby, Tate and now Paul.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jameson yelled. “It feels like I’m doing twenty-five miles an hour compared to him.”

  Near the end of the race, Colin Shuman had made his way back up to the front and was battling with Tate and Jameson for second and third. There was no way anyone was going to catch Paul now, he had a two-second lead on Jameson with just eight laps to go.

  Colin nudged Jameson from behind causing him to fishtail going into turn four. Jameson corrected it and kept the spot but that didn’t stop my hothead from reacting.

  “I think he did it on purpose!” he yelled.

  “No, he didn’t do it on purpose...” Colin pushed against him again, Kyle laughed. “Okay maybe he did.”

  NASCAR waved the furled black flag at the two of them and Colin backed off leaving Jameson to finish second.

  I kept thinking that this new rivalry might turn into what it did with Darrin but I also knew that was racing. With Darrin Torres, it was more than just a rivalry between them. It was an obsession to constantly outsmart the other. In the end, I can only guess Darrin got what he deserved.

  There would always be someone trying to prove themselves and someone getting in Jameson’s face. Like it or not, it came with racing. The difference needed to come from Jameson. He needed to walk away at times but he also couldn’t let other drivers walk all over him. He needed balance and maybe therapy. It was becoming evident there would be no way around not seeking out anger management for him.

  Blend Line – Jameson

  After the race and contenders conference, we were having dinner in the hotel restaurant when a woman approached us.

  She looked familiar but a lot of people looked familiar when you are constantly surrounded by fans.

  I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted right now was another pit lizard asking me to sign her tits.

  “Jameson?” she asked as though she knew me.

  All of us turned to look over at her. She was tall, brown hair, green eyes. Looked similar to Sway and then it dawned on me who she was.

  Fuck!

  Nervously, I leaned closer to Sway, offering her my hand. I was also silently letting this woman know I was with someone.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked brusquely praying she took that as a clue to leave.

  No such luck.

  “It’s me...Lauren.” She said with a smile.

  This can’t be happening.

  I felt Sway’s hand tense inside of my own and adjusted her hold on Axel. I didn’t say anything but looked between Sway and Lauren.

  “Remember...we...” her voice faded and before I could say any more, Sway held up her hand.

  “Hello, I’m Jameson’s wife, Sway Riley.”

  Lauren stammered for a moment before finally saying. “Oh...I’m Lauren Thomas,” she glanced at me. “Sorry I...didn’t know he was married.”

  “No worries,” Sway said politely. “We just got married. He wasn’t married at the time, I’m sure.”

  They chatted for a moment and I sat there dumbfounded that this was even happening.

  When she disappeared, Aiden and Spencer broke into a fit of laughter. “That was awesome!”

  I reached for Sway’s hand again. “Can we please go home now?”

  “Are you kidding me?” She teased rolling her eyes. “This is just getting entertaining.”

  Spencer punched my shoulder. “Nice going, stud.” He replied sarcastically. “That had to have been awkward.”

  If only he knew that I was now in possession of a Taser.

  I knew this would happen at some point and I was fairly certain it would happen again. I had no clue who those women were that I slept with when Sway left to finish college nor did I have any clue how many there were. I threw out a number to Sway but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a
nywhere close to that number.

  I had this void when she left after the Chili Bowl and my career had really taken off. To fill that void, I had frivolous encounters with women I didn’t know. I didn’t like it, but I also couldn’t change it either.

  Looking back to that time in my life—it was hard to imagine that my life would turn out like this three years later.

  The turning point for me was when Sway came out to Daytona. After that, I realized my feelings were deeper for this woman besides just being friends. I also knew that being friends with benefits would change the entire dynamic of our relationship and I’m glad it did. It made me realize that a friend with benefits wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted more. I wanted what I had now.

  It’s funny how what you think you don’t need is exactly what you needed all along.

  I turned to Sway once we were leaving the restaurant to head home.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  She smiled and handed Axel to me.

  “Don’t be...it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “I know...I just...didn’t want you to see it.”

  “Like I said Jameson...it’s not your fault...well it is, but still, you had no way of knowing she’d find you.”

  I drew her against my side, adjusting my hold on Axel as well. He looked up at me and smiled. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you two.”

  Sway’s hand around my waist and squeezed. “Yes you are.”

  9. Roll Cage – Sway

  Roll Cage – The steel tubing inside the race car’s interior. It’s designed to protect the driver from impacts or rollovers. The roll cage must meet strict NASCAR safety guidelines and are inspected regularly during the race weekend.

  It seemed as though the season was flying by.

  We left Las Vegas, flew to Atlanta then Darlington, Bristol, Texas...new track each week. Before we knew it, the Coca-Cola 600 rolled around.

  That morning Jameson had a meet and greet scheduled in the media center. I went with him while Nancy looked after Axel in the motor coach.

  Jameson was always good at maintaining crowd control and recognizing when he was getting out of hand. That morning it got out of hand.

  Jameson, who rarely looked up in meet and greets, watched a group of guys carefully, as they pushed forward through the crowd to get closer to the table.

  “Hey,” Jameson finally said with a sharp warning. “Stop that.”

  The group of boys who were probably college kids seemed caught off guard by his tone and stopped staring at him.

  Then they decided to argue that they had waited all day for an autograph and the last time Jameson declined the autograph.

  “Well, when did you ask me?” Jameson asked them.

  One of the men, the closest to the table spoke first. “We were in Bristol last March with garage pass and you wouldn’t sign anything for us.”

  Jameson laughed softly, his left hand with the sharpie in it rose to sweep over his eyebrow before he looked up at them. He pushed a signed poster to his right for the woman beside them. Jameson winked at her when she softly thanked him.

  “Well there you go,” Jameson spoke quietly but it strangely sounded more of a warning that way. “I was working.

  The man to his right started in again and Jameson focused on him finally meeting eye contact. “I’m not going anywhere. I will sign whatever you want but you’re hurting people when you push forward like that.”

  “We are not.” They had the nerve to reply with as they once again, shuffled forward.

  Van appeared beside me when he noticed the commotion at the table.

  That’s when Jameson point at the guys. “Listen, they are kids and women surrounding ya’ll and you’re crushing them against this table when you push forward. Pay attention.”

  Jameson then shook his head in annoyance and signed their posters.

  “What a jerk.” One of them mumbled as they walked away.

  Was he being a jerk?

  No. He was looking out for the people who waited patiently for him not the ones that thought he owed them something. Those kids gave Jameson shit and it didn’t mean shit to him.

  But it did.

  The rest of the meet and greet I could tell it bothered him. Regardless of the fact that Jameson was considered a professional athlete, it didn’t mean he owed them anything. They thought so.

  Jameson would be lying if he said he wasn’t bothered by remarks like that. Now that he was a father, he cared more about the image he was creating to his son. He didn’t want to be known as an asshole.

  We snuck back to the motor coach after that for some lunch; Jameson remained quiet caring his jug of water when he stopped at the door to his motor coach.

  Looking down, I saw the addition Emma had added. There right before the steps was a door mat that said: Beware! Asshole in side.

  He smirked despite the edge of annoyance. “Emma...”

  “Ah yes. She has a way about her, doesn’t she?”

  “Hmm...yes” he turned and offered me a smile. “...she does.”

  Opening the door, he stepped inside where Cal had made lunch for us and Axel was waiting for his mommy to feed him.

  Jameson smiled when he looked at the new hat designs Simplex had sent over. They looked pretty cool and seeing the words “Champion” sprawled across them was satisfying knowing how hard it was to gain those words “Champion.”

  It wasn’t long before Alley came inside and motioned to Jameson that it was time to get the pre-race activities going so that’s where we headed. After Jameson pulled one over on Emma and replaced her lotion again with self-tanner. It was stupid that we found so much humor in something we’ve done a dozen times but every time it’s just as funny.

  Being the race that marked the one-year start of our friends with benefits days, the thoughts swirled of our time together back then.

  The tingling feeling in my gut I had that night and the way he whispered “stay” and then finally, coming together intimately for the first time.

  Smiling, Jameson approached me as I stood with Axel on the grid. He’d just turned six-months old and slobbered like a Boxer puppy. I couldn’t understand where all the salvia was coming from.

  “It’s different seeing you in this light.” He said softly only to me. “I like it.”

  “Yeah well all this heat is causing me to sweat like crazy. I feel like I’m wearing a water bra.”

  “Water bra?” his eyebrow rose.

  “I think I have a pool of water in each cup from all this sweat.”

  Jameson grinned wider. “That’s attractive.”

  “Hey,” I shifted handing him to Axel to him airing myself out. That kid produced a lot of heat. “I aim to please.”

  “That you do honey.” Axel bounced in his arms when the race day activity kicked up. A thriving country band, surrounded by screaming fans, played their new single on the stage located in the infield grass. It reminded me of a time when Jameson and I would sit in the infield at the local dirt tracks surrounded by country music, old trucks, and tailgates down sitting on coolers full of beer.

  Jameson’s arms snuck around my waist swaying to the music as he held our son.

  “I wasn’t referring to the heat either.”

  Leaning back against his chest, I whispered, “I know.”

  I knew he was referring to our time spent in this exact location a year ago. Me feeling like I was about to burst with anxiety and him, though I didn’t know at the time, experiencing that gnawing dread of wanting something you thought was completely out of reach.

  But here we were, a year later, after overcoming tragedy, together.

  There wasn’t a single breeze that day. The heat scorched high in the sky over Lowe’s Motor Speedway grid of forty three cars waiting for the race to begin.

  Though I thought for sure they were lying, the thermometer said it was a hundred and four. It had to be at least two hundred degrees. I was sure of it.

  Jameson, to prepar
e for the heat today, had been carrying around a gallon water bottle and was well on his way through his second gallon.

  “I know in about an hour,” he shook the half empty gallon jug. “I’m gonna have to pee.”

  “And then what?” I asked laughing at the thought of him asking to stop the race for a bathroom break.

  “I just hold it.” He looked down to sign an autograph from a pint-sized fan who approached.

  “What if you can’t?”

  “You just go.”

  I had a feeling this happened before. He’d been awfully quick to change his uniform after the Texas race.

  On days like this when the temperature outside broke a hundred, the heat inside the cars peaked one forty. A driver’s biggest concern was the heat. With the safety equipment they wore, gloves, and a complete racing suit, they felt the heat.

  The exhaust systems ran underneath the driver’s feet and the heat from the engine and transmission was intense.

  With all that heat, they sweat. And when they sweat, it doesn’t pool in their bra. It’s absorbed by their suit usually but it leads to dehydration eventually. It’s not uncommon for a driver to lose about five pounds during a race just from water weight.

  The problem is that dehydration leads to more blood flow throughout your body trying to cool you off and less reaching your vital organs. In turn, you deal with impaired concentration, decreased energy and fatigue. That’s not exactly ideal when inside a car pushing two-hundred and surrounded by concrete walls.

  Jameson had a good ritual on days like this. He’d watch the weather closely, prepare by drinking lots of water and eliminating soda and alcohol, two things that could dehydrate you quickly.

  Back in the days when he raced sprint cars on dirt, he’d pack his racing suit with ice packs just prior to the feature events but now they had cooling systems in their helmets that circulated air and also a “cool” shirt. These shirts have about fifty feet of tubing inside of them that has the ability to keep you cool by flipping a temperature switch. They also have something similar built into their seat to cool them and it’s controlled by an auxiliary switch on their dash.

  Kyle caught me when Jameson was with the media and asked my thoughts on how Jameson would handle the heat today.