by Stahl, Shey
“So I’ve been told,” Jameson replied, his eyes darting to Tommy and then Justin. “When did he get here?”
“Stay here.” He tone was militant. There would be no discussion.
Tommy stayed beside Ami and me while Jameson, Justin, Tyler and Van approached the crowd he knew Darrin was in.
“He’s like a bad rash.” Tommy said almost conversationally as we followed. There was no way I was letting Jameson go over there without me. For one, I was scared of the dark and two; I didn’t trust Tommy all that much. And third, I had to know what he was going to say to someone who nearly killed him and had the nerve to show his face again. “He’s irritating and itchy but nothing gets rid of him.”
I couldn’t help myself and smiled despite the events unfolding. “You know a lot about rashes, don’t you?”
Tommy cracked a fleeting grin. All our eyes focused on the boys standing near the hauler of a local driver.
When Jameson actually spotted Darrin for the first time, it was all Tommy and Justin could do to hold him back.
Tommy’s head snapped toward Jameson when he mumbled something under his breath and apparently, Tommy heard it. The tension rolling off Jameson was enough to vibrate him. My firm grasp on his hand seemed to be the only reason he wasn’t shaking.
“I told you to stay back there.”
I didn’t say anything, just drew in a deep breath, preparing myself for the release of his anger.
“Oh, look who it is.” Darrin said stepping toward us as his hands reached toward me but he stopped short when Jameson pulled me hard to his side. A few men gathered near Darrin, protecting him I assumed, but I never looked at them only briefly acknowledging people standing there.
Jameson said nothing to him. He just stood there with his shoulders straight and arms hanging at his sides while holding my hand.
“I see your possessive tendencies are still there.”
“Fuck you. You’re lucky I’m letting you stand here right now.” Jameson, trying to be the bigger person here, walked away.
“You know I’ve learned something about you lately,” Darrin grinned as though this was just some casual conversation. “you make a lot of threats with no follow through.”
Jameson’s shoulders hunched and he froze by the rear tires of the hauler.
“You’ve pissed him off now.” Tommy warned. Laughter broke out around the group trying to keep this from turning on us.
“Like I give a shit,” Darrin replied completely relaxed.
“See, that’s your problem,” Tommy snorted calmly cracking another beer open he pulled from his pocket. “You should care.”
That’s when Darrin decided to get chippy with Jameson. This was probably his second worst idea with the first being showing up here.
“So you’re just gonna stand there with your back to reality?” Darrin tried again. “It’s okay for you to hit on my girl but the same doesn’t go for your bitch?”
I really wanted to hit him right then. If I hadn’t been so intent on Jameson, I would have. Justin and Tommy stepped toward Darrin blocking Jameson who was remaining in control.
“Why are you so upset your girl wanted me?” Jameson acted as though he was thinking before he added. “Oh, I know, because she screams my name at night, huh?” Jameson snorted amused with himself. “It fucking kills you that she was all over my dick in Daytona.”
For a moment, Justin and I gaped at each other, frozen at Jameson’s haughty response—me more than Justin.
Darrin laughed. “I’m sure I could make yours scream in one way or another. Is that what you want?” his eyes taunted. “Or are you going to ignore me then too? You really should just walk away.”
“I tried to walk away from you but you think you have something to prove.”
“I do...that you’re nothing.”
“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face here after Pocono.” Jameson shouted pointing toward Darrin. He was losing his cool demeanor and ready to fight.
“Jameson, stop!” I slammed my hands against his shoulders trying to make him see this wasn’t worth it, but was it?
All I saw though was his murderous gaze trained on Darrin. It was like I wasn’t standing there. None of us were, in his eyes.
“You should listen to your girl for once.”
“Leave her out of it.”
“Oh I think she needs to be in it. After all, you brought mine into it.”
“Stay away from her.” His voice lowered, the same menacing, warning tone it had that night in the bar in May; threatening and explosive. “Go ahead take your best fucking shot.” Jameson pushed past Justin and Tommy to stand face to face with Darrin. “Or can you not fight without your car?”
“I never liked you Riley,” Darrin said conversationally, his eyes watchful of the crowd gathering, drinking in every flicker of emotion registered on Jameson who remained cold and impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Even back when we raced USAC, I never liked you. Just because your dad is a legend, you think you’re hot shit out there.”
“Jealous?” Jameson snorted.
Darrin took a quick step forward, his eyes flaring at the taunting but remained controlled.
“She sure is pretty.” Darrin winked toward me.
You could actually feel the change in Jameson between his stance and breathing. The heat of his anger scorched my hand on his wrist.
“Leave her alone.” Jameson’s control was nearly gone.
“Do you really think I will leave you in any condition to stop me?”
Here’s the problem I discovered when those words left Darrin’s mouth. He had the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to Jameson right then. And he had patience. Something Jameson didn’t have.
It wasn’t like he was thinking in that moment, no, he was far too engrossed in the confrontation now.
“You touch her and I will kill you.” Jameson growled trying to control himself. “You can be sure of that.”
Van’s self-reserved eyes met Darrin. They exchanged a look and then focused on Jameson. To anyone else, the glance was just a distant fleeting look but Jameson saw something defined in the intensity behind him and stared at Van as if he said something directly to him. But he said nothing. It was just a glance toward Darrin.
“I don’t think you have it in you.” Darrin smarted off, focusing again on Jameson.
“You’re missing the point asshole.”
“Am I?” Darrin shrugged. “Enlighten me then rookie, what’s the point?”
“There will be no version of this where you’re coming to come out ahead of me. Maybe you will get the best of me, get to me when my guard is down. Maybe you’ll win...” Jameson stepped closer, his movement warning and guarded at the same time. “But you can be goddamn sure that I will come after you.” Jameson’s voice resonated ominously into the night air.
Tempers were flaring in the blistering heat of the night and the heat between them seemed to be providing a suffocating smog around us.
A familiar standoff, one I’ve seen many times, began between him and Darrin.
Jameson’s eyes swept over Darrin gauging a reaction he knew he’d have.
“That’s your plan?”
“No...” Jameson shook his head. “That’s not my plan. I’m just letting you know...you can try and test me...take what you think you can...but you won’t get away with it.”
Darrin looked toward his buddies gathered, all of them showing amusement. “I think your—”
Jameson smiled a cold bitter smile letting out a venomous cynical laugh. “You really think I give a goddamn what you think of me?” He asked, his jaw tightened, his eyes throwing daggers toward Darrin. “You know what...fuck you,” he sniffed with a laugh. “Fuck you.”
Justin and Tommy remained beside me. Both seemed ready to throw down, as did Van, with any indication from Jameson. But they were giving him space to decide for himself.
Darrin lurched toward him with a heavy step. “You
should take it seriously.” He spat looking like he was ready to strike. “I could end your career if I wanted!”
Jameson just stood there like he wasn’t afraid. “Go for it.” His eyebrows rose coolly. “Come after me and I assure you, you will regret it.”
I’m not sure how but things seemed to get heated between everyone and before we knew it, guys were shoving each other and Jameson was pushing me and Ami, who’d wrapped herself around me like a monkey, back away.
“Go back to the hauler and wait for me there.” He pushed us gently away.
“Jameson just—”
“Leave!” he screamed toward us.
I wasn’t waiting around and Van wasn’t letting us. He had Ami and me practically over his shoulder in a second leaving Jameson alone with Darrin and Justin.
“We should call the police or something.” Ami suggested, pacing the hauler when the boys didn’t return within in a few minutes. We heard the fight along with the rest of the pits who decided to scramble over there. We heard the yelling, Jameson and Darrin’s voices the loudest, but we still couldn’t see anything.
“You two should just stay here.” Van said sternly. “Jameson is fine.”
“We should just call the police,” Ami got in his face. Well, she tried too. Van was nearly two feet taller than her.
“No.” Van remained calm. “We shouldn’t.”
It wasn’t but three more minutes and Justin, Tommy and Jameson all came back, all sporting battle wounds.
Jameson ignored everyone and headed for the parking lot. “Come on Sway.” He reached for me dragging me along. I waved a quick bye to everyone but the only one that seemed to notice was Ami who offered a sympathetic wave.
“Jameson, maybe I should drive us back.” We stopped short of his Mustang. “You’ve had a few beers.”
“So what...you’re questioning me too?” he backed against the car leaning into it.
“It’s not like that and you know it.”
He said nothing so I reached for him. His hand flung away from mine, his keys wrapped in his fist. “Get in.”
Not only was he angry but he’d had a few drinks and I knew this wasn’t good. “Jameson, just let me drive.”
“No.” His voice faded when the 428 big-block V-8 roared to life.
He said nothing to me pressing a few buttons on the stereo as I buckled in preparing for my death. I was sure I was about to die. The blue and red lights of his stereo lit up, a staircase display of rising lights bounced with the base.
My seat vibrated with the lean idol before he revved the engine once and took off, dirt and rocks spraying out across the field as we took off for the highway.
Jameson didn’t listen to the song he chose often but when he did, it was a direct reflection of his mood. A slow base thumped, his head nodding to the kick. I didn’t recognize the song but the rhythm seemed just as dark as his mood.
His window was cracked. Each passing car detangled another loop of his hair resulting in a wild mess. His chin tucked toward his chest, his eyes scowled into the darkness. Shifted slightly toward the door, his right hand hung over the steering wheel, his left arm rested on the edge of the door panel as he ran his knuckles slowly across her lower lip and jaw, contemplating. I shouldn’t have been surprised by his mood. I knew it was coming.
I may have mentioned this before, or not, but Jameson had this 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang that I was sure was my only competition in his life. He’d originally purchased the car when he was sixteen. When hauling around a sprint car each weekend didn’t work well for the Mustang, he sold it to Jimi and bought a Ford diesel truck that could haul his trailer and the sprint car.
When he signed with Simplex in the Winston Cup series, he bought his car back from Jimi.
So on the way back to Darlington that night, while driving that GT500, another, newer Mustang crossed the centerline and revved up beside us on the two-lane highway. He was taunting Jameson and Jameson knew it.
Jameson, humming with aggression from Darrin, shook his head and rolled it to the side to glance at me. “Really?”
“Just ignore him,” was my attempt to calm him down.
Did he do that?
Sure, he tried. But he’s a race car driver. Me and the rest of society shouldn’t expect too much.
Jameson revved forward and my head snapped back against the seat as the torque jolted me.
The car darted back behind us when another approaching car came around the bend.
Once again, the car came right back, their headlights shining through the back window. Jameson’s dark menacing gaze lifted to the review mirror, his jaw clenched anticipating.
“Jameson.” I slapped his shoulder. “Knock it off. I just want to get to bed and preferably not on the side of the road.”
There, I voiced my concerns about being road kill and being tired. Now he knew.
He said nothing. His gaze fixated on the road. The glow from the headlights lit up the dark weaving highway.
I’d never been in a real car chase before. This was similar, right?
When Jameson slammed the car in fourth and my stomach met my heart, I knew for sure it was no longer a car chase and maybe just on my way to road kill.
Engines roared, the only sounds besides our heavy breathing when Jameson said, “Why does everyone fucking test me?” By the gruff question, he wasn’t looking for a response.
The car beside us lurched forward again but this time kept speed. And before long, was pulling away.
What do you think race car driver in the car with me did?
Before long, I was gripping my seat with my eyes screwed shut. I couldn’t watch. Not only was the road winding and sharp, but I also had this notion that if I didn’t see my death approaching, I wouldn’t feel it. What a crazy fucking notion that was.
“If he hits my car,” Jameson’s voice forced my eyes open. “I will fuck him up.”
“Jameson?” The overgrown grass and trees were flying by so quickly I thought we’d make it to Darlington in minutes. And I was starting to get car sick. Really car sick.
“I’m serious.”
“Jameson?”
“This guy is a fucking douche.”
“Jameson?”
His jaw clenched. He said nothing so I tried again.
“Jameson, I’m gonna get sick!” I screamed covering my mouth.
I’d never seen him slam on the brakes and open my door that fast before.
And then I threw up in the ditch.
Turns out, I wasn’t car chase material, I just wasn’t.
He helped me get cleaned up, offered a bottle of water and then sat along the edge of the ditch facing the road.
The passenger door remained opened binging every few seconds.
“Jameson, I know you’re upset but I hate seeing you like this. I feel it when you’re like this.”
His eyes snapped to mine, flashing like lighting, and I knew I said the wrong thing. I meant for it to sound like I felt for him not that I was placing the blame upon him.
“I don’t want you to feel that way!” he shouted, the quiet lost as his temper flared. He looked panicked, and guilty, and...angry. “I don’t want you around this shit!”
I didn’t know what to do. Jameson’s temper wasn’t something to mess with so I got inside the car.
As I attempted to close the door and leave him out there, his hand shot out pushing it back open. I didn’t look at him, angry that I was nearly road kill and angry that I couldn’t talk to him and actually get through to him. Not to mention he not only put our lives at risk, but that of our innocent child.
“Oh goddamn it. I’m sorry!” he shouted kicking at the rocks in the ditch. “I don’t know what to do anymore!”
“Jameson...” I reached for him only to have him shake me away standing at the rear of the car now.
“I can’t keep doing this.” He bent forward resting his hands on the back of the car. His head hung slumping his shoulders forward. “Fuck!” he sc
reamed toward the sky, all the muscles in his back flexed and tensed with the movement.
My hands reached for him wanting to ease his pain. This time he let me touch him.
And just like that, his hostile mood returned, as though I expected anything less.
Abruptly, he turned toward me as though I said his name. “What should I do? Is there...” his fists clenched again. “I mean, what do they expect me to do?”
“I don’t know.” and I honestly didn’t anymore. My hands slipped from his shoulders.
His face was tense when I removed my hands and his anger had returned, luminescent like brakes at a short track, glowing with the slightest form of pressure.
“No,” he said between his teeth. “No one knows. That’s the fucking problem.”
He was burning inside with such raw emotion. I felt it as I’m sure everyone else around us did too. He was sick of this and he had every right to be.
“I don’t know what everyone wants from me. They want me to by myself and when I am and speak my mind, showing them who I am, they want me acting another way. I don’t understand what they thought I would do.” His expression was one of frustration, annoyance, and underneath that, determination and honesty and I was confused for a brief moment.
And then I realized this was him breaking apart. This doesn’t just have to do with Darrin. It has to do with his lifestyle, sponsors, media, owners, drivers, obligations, and sacrifices, all of it.
Jameson was right to feel this way. What did they expect him to do with the pressures put upon him? Did they honestly expect a twenty-three year old kid to know exactly when and how to turn his aggression on and off?
I eventually got him back inside the car and on our way back to Darlington since it was around two in the morning.
I’m not sure whether he slept, but me being pregnant and sleepy all the time, I woke up inside the motor coach assuming he carried me there at some point.
When I rolled over, he was there with his hands resting on his stomach, his racing suit from last night was still on only the top half was pulled away. He stared at the ceiling, eyes fixed and restless.
“Good morning.” I said testing the air.