The Champion (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  “Jameson, this is un-called for.” Sway told me when I handed her the new phone later that night. “We don’t need to be hounded by security. Van is enough.”

  “You leave me no choice in the matter, Sway. You and our children will be protected from this bullshit!” I snapped harshly. “You should have told me this was happening.”

  “You have been acting strange since that guy in our hotel room in Indy, what’s your deal?”

  The fact that she didn’t understand why this was important wasn’t lost on me. She of all people should understand why. I walked away before I once again lost my temper but as we laid in bed that night going over the schedule for the next week before we left for Charlotte, I confessed my fears.

  Air Wrench – Sway

  I gazed at him as his strong hands ran threw his hair as he watched the flames from the fireplace. Letting out a sigh, I wondered what he was keeping to himself when he turned to me, his face radiant in the glow from the dancing light.

  He smiled softly when I entered the room, returning the smile.

  Snuggling against his chest, his hands cradled around me securely.

  “All of this with Rusty and Garrett makes me remember.” He whispered into my hair before softly kissing the side of my neck.

  “Remember what?” I asked curiously, though I had a sense of what he meant.

  His fingertips ran up my shoulder into my hair, trailing across the scar that remained on the back of my head. “What should never be forgotten.”

  In a sense, it shouldn’t be forgotten. Darrin taught us a vital lesson about protecting ourselves. It had been five years since the accident and we couldn’t forget. Every time I washed my hair, I felt the scar left on my scalp. Even so much as the smell of blood, a dark stairwell or hospitals would remind me of that time in our lives. There were even times when I looked at Axel and thought of it. But it wasn’t a bad thing as we used it as a reminder of how quickly everything could be taken away from us.

  What Jameson was telling me was that he too was reminded and that when he overreacted, it was his way of surviving it.

  So because of this Garrett fellow called me about twenty times a day to breathe in my ear, he amped up our security. Axel was in pre-school now and since we were on the road so much, we ended up getting a tutor instead of public or private school.

  Lane, who just turned nine, was pulled out of fourth grade at Park View Elementary School in Mooresville because he got into a fist-fight with another kid over Jameson. It wasn’t just our kids who were affected by this. All the Riley kids were. This left us hiring our own teachers. And it wasn’t that we didn’t want them having interactions like this, it was just getting dangerous given the following Jameson now had. I wouldn’t say that he was as famous as Brad Pitt but almost everywhere we went, he was noticed. In turn, our kids were noticed.

  At the completion of the Outlaw World Finals, the series announced Jimi would be inducted into the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame in Knoxville Ohio. He’d won over eight-hundred career wins and won his twentieth championship this year. Greatness, that’s for sure.

  Jameson had always been in awe of his father’s raw talent in a sprint car but when he was inducted into the hall of fame, that awe was surpassed greatly and replaced with reverence.

  Similarly, already looking up to Jimi, Axel was in heaven when we took him to Knoxville with us.

  Between Jimi being inducted into the hall of fame, Jameson winning the championship this year and changes being made at Grays Harbor, we had a busy off-season.

  Thanksgiving flew by since we were in Irwindale with the kids for Turkey Night. Jameson won while Justin, the usual winner of the event finally took second to him.

  After the awards banquet, we spent Christmas in New York. The kids enjoyed the city so much we decided to stay. Once New Year holiday was over, it was back to preparing for racing.

  We had the three drivers on the Outlaw team, Axel racing the USAC quarter midget Jr. Animal division and then the dealings with the track.

  For a long time Grays Harbor had needed attention so Jameson and I poured some money into the facility by adding grandstands, more concessions stands, and made the entire facility a place where children were welcomed, complete with a playground in the pits.

  With the addition of another bodyguard, Clint, the stalkers seemed to be lying low. We still had the occasional crazed fan, obsessed pit lizards and strange packages delivered to the house but having security around helped. The nice thing about Van and now Clint was that it wasn’t like they were security. Van was part of the family now and Clint loved to play jokes on everyone when he wasn’t on guard. Put him in a room with Jameson, Spencer and Aiden and they were trying to figure out the best way to embarrass each other. I didn’t mind that as much as it made me feel safe and provided entertainment at the same time.

  Our lives were moving forward. Axel was six now and racing as much as he could. With the roof on the track at our home in Mooresville—I was lucky to get him to come inside—especially when Jameson installed lights.

  I never worried much about his safety out there because for one, we had cameras installed in the house so that I could see him on the track. On top of that, he wasn’t allowed on the track without a parent out there or someone with enough sense to come get us if he wrecked.

  Behind the track was a motocross track so it was rare if any of us saw our children during the day. Lane was competing in races around North and South Carolina and racking up some nice wins so Jameson put in a track for him as well. Our property became the local hangout.

  Arie would be turning four this year and was without a doubt, in love with her father. She was absolutely nothing like me. I wondered at times if she was even mine. Arie loved clothes, painting her nails, doing her hair...girly things. I was convinced she was conceived for Emma. Having two little asshole children of her own who were only into dirt and destroying things, she had nobody to govern the girly world with so that’s where my sweet little Arie and Lexi came in. They adored their aunt Emma.

  Then there was Casten, mama’s boy. He’d just turned two and while he acted like your typical two-year old, Casten wasn’t a fit thrower. He laughed, all the time. It was actually kind of strange but the kid thought everything was funny and had the most infectious laugh.

  Last year, Jameson had won the championship and Turkey Night, Chili Bowl and was well on his way to winning the Daytona 500 this year when he got caught up in a wreck on the last lap. His career was taking off which left him with no time for anything.

  On top of that, he turned thirty in July. He wasn’t wild about turning thirty, especially in a sport like racing. It meant that he was no longer the kid in the series. He was now looked at as being a wise driver, so to speak, who does not throw fits. Now if you knew Jameson, you knew this was basically out of the question. He still threw stuff after races; got in the faces of other drivers; was fined for aggressive driving and received a suspension for one race when he punched a NASCAR official for telling him he was setting a bad example for his son. I’m almost certain punching the official was not the most mature way of handling that but we’re talking about Jameson.

  I was going about life as I always did, just going with the flow. Our kids were growing, Jameson was happy, I was happy, our family was happy. What more could we ask for, right?

  I would ask not to get old.

  Do you ever wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you got so goddamn old? I did. Every day, I spotted another reminder that I was no longer twenty-three but instead, turning thirty.

  Now I was pulling gray hairs out, yelling at my kids more often from lack of patience, waxing in area’s I never expected hair to grow, let alone be gray, and finding the need to exercise daily to keep my ass under control.

  Getting old sucked. Much like pregnancy, I couldn’t find a singled thing I enjoyed, well, physically that is. Emotionally I was extremely happy. I just think I was wearing this body out.
I wonder if they offered replacements.

  In late August, my fears of getting old finally got the best of me.

  Jameson had a bi-week before heading into the race in Atlanta and was once again at the shop with Tommy making changes to the sprint cars before Knoxville Nationals.

  Once Arie and Casten were down for naps and Axel was speeding around the track out back, I finally had a moment to rest and clean up the paint Arie spilled in the kitchen before Jameson saw it. I can only imagine what he’d say when he saw the mess. If you thought he was obsessive about anything touching his skin, he had the same reactions to cleanliness around the house. Now if only he could manage to clean up after himself.

  When he finally got home around ten that night, I was exhausted.

  With the extreme events those kids had put me through today; sex was not on my agenda. My dirty heathen had other ideas and as soon as Casten fell asleep, he was attacking me.

  I tried to get into the mood for him because we seldom were alone these days but I was exhausted. Can you honestly blame me with three of Jameson Riley’s children around to annoy me all day? In one day they spilled an entire can of paint in the kitchen and Axel jumped his quarter midget over the pool followed by Lane jumping his dirt bike (they’d been watching Jameson and Spencer too much these days). Arie and Lexi put make-up on Casten and Cole. Casten decided to try out Mr. Jangles litter box and Mr. Jangles went missing only to find him taking a dip in the pool later on and missing more fur. Noah and Charlie came over with Emma. That right there should sum up the rest of my day for you. I was tired. That’s all there is to it.

  All that being said, Jameson knew my body; he knew it well. So when I wasn’t really into it that night, he knew.

  Some people like to tell you they have the greatest sex life ever. Others tell you they never have sex and that it is horrible when they do. I guess it depends on who you talk to. Luck of the draw? Or luck of the Irish?

  Who knows. But in reality, everyone has different obstacles in their relationship that sets them apart from their friend’s relationship.

  Maybe you fight about money, kids, work, or even the act of having sex.

  The thing is it’s not always going to be mind-blowing sex. Even with Jameson and I, two people who were sexually attracted to each other from the beginning and have always had a strong sexual chemistry. There are times when it doesn’t work, when we start and don’t finish or times when I don’t get off and he does. It’s marriage. Leg cramps, sore, tired, kids screaming all day, bills to pay, with all those daily obstacles running through your head, sometimes it’s not easy to shut out the rest of the world and just be in the moment with your other half. I get it.

  Jameson, he doesn’t always understand that.

  He stilled above me, searching my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” I replied innocently.

  Jameson seemed to sense the lies in my facial features and rolled off me.

  “Sway, you’re faking it.” He said as though I offended him.

  “No I’m not.” I also tried to sound offended but I’m not sure that worked. After all, he knew I was faking it and I’m pretty sure he knew I was lying.

  “Don’t lie to me.” he got off the bed and pulled his shorts on. “I can’t believe this.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “I’m overreacting? How many times have you faked it?”

  This was turning out badly. “I haven’t been faking it.” I repeated trying to buy some more time to think of a better lie.

  “Did I do something wrong? Is it me?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I said pulling up the sheets. “I just...have a headache.”

  Nice one Sway. Real fucking original.

  He didn’t acknowledge more poor excuse.

  “I’ve always been able to please you.” He mused. “At least I thought I was.” He started to mutter. “Maybe I’ve lost my touch. Oh my god...I’ve lost it. I turned thirty and I’ve lost it!”

  “Jameson, it wasn’t you.” I climbed off the bed a moved to sit next to him on the floor now. “Let’s try again.”

  He looked at me with a shocked expression and pointed toward his now soft camshaft. “Do you honestly think I’m ready to go again? I think I need Viagra?” he said the last part almost like a question though I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be one.

  “This is getting ridiculous.” I grabbed his face between my hands. “It. wasn’t. you.”

  He was about to say something else when his phone rang. He sat there glaring at me, actually glaring at me over this before getting up to answer the phone.

  “Yeah...no...because I don’t want to...no, you do it...leave me alone...all right fine, bye.” He slammed his phone shut. “Fucking Spencer,” he grumbled.

  “Who was that?”

  “Spencer,” he replied pulling his shirt over his shoulders without looking at me, he made his way toward the door. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked timidly.

  “To the shop,”

  “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “They’re loading the cars for Knoxville and noticed Cody’s was leaking oil. We must have cracked the cover when we changed gears.”

  “Oh...”

  He was about to walk out the door, but slammed his fist into the wall and came back over to me. He bent down close to my face and kissed me. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.”

  “About what?”

  “My performance,” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I lost it.”

  “I’m going to tell you again asshole, that wasn’t your fault.”

  “We’ll still talk.”

  Shaking my head at my crazy husband, I curled up and was asleep a few moments later. It was late by the time returned but in the morning, at breakfast, he felt the need to discuss it further.

  “About last night,” he looked up at me as he ate a slice of bacon. “That’s never happened to me before.”

  “Daddy, can you put the head back on my Barbie?” Arie asked him shoving her Barbie next to his pancakes. He did and she skipped off to the living room where the boys were watching cartoons.

  “We don’t have to talk about this.”

  I couldn’t think of any more lies to tell him and I really didn’t want to tell him the truth. It was stupid. I was just tired, felt old, and I found a stretch mark yesterday. It was so retarded that I figured he’d just laugh but clearly, he was over-thinking it.

  “Oh yes we do.” He insisted setting his bacon down. “You say it wasn’t me so what the fuck was it?”

  “It was me...” I sighed.

  “Well,” he sighed too. “I think I should see an urologist or something.”

  “I think you need a therapist, not an urologist.” I stood up. “You’re being retarded.”

  He did that thing that he did when he knew I was lying. You know the look, kind of like last night and I caved. I cracked under the pressure.

  “Fine,” I threw my arms up in the hair. “I found a gray hair and a stretch mark yesterday.” I wailed. “the kids are driving me insane and I might add, I think the little one has decided against toilets and uses a litter box. That’s weird, right?” His brow rose curiously and I slumped back in the chair. “Please say something.”

  He did the opposite of what I thought he would, he laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.

  Stupid husband.

  I kicked him on the way to the bathroom to look for more gray hairs and stretch marks. The older I got, the more I got. It was an endless cycle as time passed, and it did pass quickly.

  I couldn’t understand why Jameson didn’t find this a matter of importance but then again I didn’t think him seeing a camshaft doctor was important.

  The part that was hard for me was gaining weight.

  Over the years I’d gained weight. Gravity, the fucking bitch, wasn’t helping.

  With Axel I gained around thirty pounds of whi
ch ten never left.

  With Arie, I gained twenty-five and again five stayed. Now with Casten, I only gained twenty but then again five became a permanent fixture.

  As a result, I’d packed on a good twenty pounds that refused to leave but, placed in a way that I could get away with it without people saying anything. I didn’t look bad either. For someone who was always fairly small, I looked healthy and still kept good muscle tone. The only problem was that most of my weight gain took up residence in my ass and I became a five-foot two version on Jennifer Lopez without the tan.

  Jameson never complained. Hell no, he loved curves. I may have been tiny, in height, but I had curves that my dirty heathen loved. After a while, I stopped trying to lose the weight and just loved my ass. After all, it was softer to sit on. And who didn’t love a nice soft place to sit.

  Not everyone adapted my theories on a softer place to sit.

  Emma tried relentlessly to lose the weight she’d gained with the twins but she still carried a few extra pounds. She took weight training classes, jogged with Jameson and then when he pushed her into oncoming traffic as she didn’t understand that jogging was his attempt at relaxing, she was forced to just accept the fact that she had a few extra pounds.

  “I just don’t see why he won’t run with me.” Emma would say to me.

  “It might have something to do with the fact that you never shut up.” I would tell her.

  “That’s a lie. I was quiet for the first mile and after that, well, that’s just unheard of for me.”

  Emma just didn’t get it.

  “I feel bad for her.” I said to Jameson later that night when I accepted my cushion.

  “Why?” Jameson didn’t look up from the lap top. More than likely he was checking the points standing and not interested in Emma.

  “She thinks she has to be a certain weight.” I came to stand behind him. My hands ran up his arms to his shoulders.

  “Well that’s stupid.” He looked up at me, eyes sparkling as they always did. “She looks great the way she is.”

  I smiled running my fingers through his hair. “You’re a good brother despite trying to kill her.”