Black Flag (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  I had no idea what day it was half the time but Sway was there to help me. I was relieved that she was at least by my side now. There were times when the pressure got to me and I felt as though I was drowning once again in the obligations but all I had to do was take one glance into those emerald green eyes and suddenly, I could breathe again.

  Actually, that was a lie, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe because I had the worst fucking cold I’d ever had, more than likely from the lack of sleep these days. My throat was sore, my nose was running like a faucet and I couldn’t stop sneezing. It was disgusting. I hated sneezing and blowing my nose. I mean seriously, where does all that mucus come from?

  It was utterly repulsive and completely unacceptable to me.

  While Sway was out getting a pedicure with Emma and Alley a few days after Thanksgiving, I decided to go pick up Sway’s wedding band from the jewelry store in Olympia. The only problem with this was that Logan was with me. He’d gotten in trouble earlier in the day but I’m not sure what for. All I knew was that I was now stuck with him. If there was ever a point in my life where I contemplated killing myself, it was when I was left alone with Logan.

  Most of the day I was moments away from slipping him a Tylenol PM like I did to Charlie but decided against it when I thought about the rules of child abuse. I was sure that drugging them was not okay.

  These past few weeks Charlie was always yelling for no apparent reason. He yelled at unsuspecting people all the time but my personal favorite is when he was yelling at Logan, who usually responded with a “What the fuck is your problem?” look.

  I thought about asking Logan why he was in trouble once again but when I thought about the way Charlie was acting, I realized Logan probably had no clue as to why he was in trouble.

  Logan was a little fucker the entire time, never stopped talking and I was sure that there was actually something wrong with him. Originally, I thought he might just have an extreme case of ADD but it was more than that. I began to wonder if Andrea did some kind a recreational drug when she was pregnant with him, it would explain a lot.

  Once we got back to the house, he took off like a bullet out of the car, with the wedding band.

  “Logan!” I yelled after him. “You asshole, get back here with that!”

  He wasn’t listening to me and took off down the street. Now, ordinarily, I wouldn’t have chased him, but he had the ring and more importantly, Sway’s ring.

  Not only did I roll my ankle twice during this pursuit, I fell into a double summersault and to my complete shock, ended with me right side up after another handspring. I fell back into the grass, exhausted.

  Logan hovered above me, laughing, while I moaned about needing an MRI or x-rays.

  After my downhill Special Olympics display, it’d be a miracle if I didn’t kill him or myself before Andrea returned for Hitler.

  As I limped my way back to the house, with the ring and dragging Logan by the arm, I turned toward him.

  “Listen you little fucker!” I had completely lost any remaining dignity that hadn’t been lost earlier when I had barrel rolled down a very public street. “You are going to act like a normal fucking human being.”

  He laughed like my threats were nothing.

  I began to wonder...no that’s a lie...I knew Sway and I were in over our heads with this parenting shit. I just hoped our kid wasn’t so much of an asshole as Logan and Lucas were. Hopefully, he was more like Lane.

  Once Sway returned, she looked exhausted as she plopped down next to me on the couch.

  “What happened to him?” she pointed at Logan who was duck tapped to a chair in the living room in front of the TV.

  “He wouldn’t stop moving.” I told her with a shrug and continued to eat my Lucky Charms. “So I tied him up.”

  “Is he alive?” she asked scrutinizing his upright sleeping figure.

  “Yes, he’s just sleeping...I think.” I craned my neck to see his face. “Yeah, he’s breathing.”

  “Is that considered child abuse?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I didn’t tape his mouth, just his hands.”

  “Hmm...” she gave me a contemplative stare. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Sway looked over at me and started laughing, as did I. The fact that Sway and I both found this so entertaining was a perfect summation of our relationship.

  Emma walked in with a shit load of bags and threw them on the floor. She too checked Logan’s breathing and then laughed.

  Having Emma planning your wedding was slightly more enjoyable then getting your dick pierced with an impact gun. She had more energy than the energizer bunny and was in a non-stop wedding planning mode.

  The thing about my sister is that she is funny if you actually listen to her. She’s smarter than most realize, can sell just about anything, has a heart the size of Texas, can drink most men out of the bar and could fight like Ali although and for someone without a crystal meth addiction, she had way too much energy.

  “She’s never going to stop.” I whispered to Sway as Emma explained the rehearsal dinner to us once more.

  “You’re right.” She concurred with a sigh.

  “This is just ridiculous.” I told Sway, watching Emma run around looking for her wedding planner. Spencer and I burned it the day before when she tried to tell us that we had assigned seating at the wedding.

  “I’m getting scared,” Sway said with wide-eyes and giggling like a schoolgirl.

  We now had two days before the wedding and Spencer was bugging the fuck out of me to have a bachelor party. This had about as much appeal to me as going on another date with Dana.

  I gagged a little at the thought.

  “Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

  “I can’t go.” I told him, hearing the distant chuckles of Aiden coming down the hallway. I tried to hide the phone. “I’m not going.”

  “Why? It’s your bachelor party.”

  “Well plans changed. I have pink eye.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do, my eyes are red. I could be highly contagious.”

  “Your eyes are red because you have a cold. You’re not contagious dick head.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Aiden sitting next to me on the couch. “It’s your bachelor party.”

  That just annoyed me. “Listen,” I barked at both of them. “I’m not going!”

  “Jameson...come on,” Spencer sighed heavily. “All the guys are in town tonight, just for you.”

  I felt bad about that. My entire team had flown in for the wedding along with Tate, Bobby, Justin and Tyler, even Tommy came out. I hated that they would fly across the United States and not be able to have a good time. But also, I didn’t want to be a part of this “good time” Spencer had planned.

  Despite this, I caved.

  “Fine,” I fell back against the couch in defeat.

  “Great, meet you in fifteen minutes.”

  “I hate you,” I said and for good measure, I threw in an “asshole” before I hung up.

  Whoever the clueless bastard was who thought it would be a good idea to pair me with siblings like Spencer and Emma should hope that I never meet him face-to-face.

  Nothing about going to a strip club was appealing to me, at all. There I sat as some raven haired woman tried to grind herself against me. Tate, Tommy and Bobby sat beside me laughing.

  I hardly thought this was funny.

  Not only did she scare the shit out of me with the amount of make-up she was wearing but also her bony figure looked like she could cut me in two if she turned too quickly.

  This was not my first time at a strip club. When I was sixteen, Spencer forced me into one. I told myself then I’d never return but alas, here we were. I just didn’t understand the point of them.

  Spencer and Aiden were up on stage with a couple stripers, getting pointers from them while I tried to once again, push this woman off my lap. She wasn’t taking no for an answer so I grabbed
her by the arm. “Listen, you either get off me...or I throw you off.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’ll get you off.” She cooed in my ear.

  “Not what I meant.” I muttered pushing her away. This time I stood so she couldn’t get back on. “I’m leaving.” I yelled over my shoulder walking toward the door.

  We eventually just found an open bar and drank entirely too much alcohol but it was better than a strip club.

  Spencer, Tommy and I were finally on our way home when Spencer yelled in my ear. “Dude, I think you’re getting pulled over.”

  “Fuck.” I looked in the rearview mirror for confirmation. “Just don’t say anything.” I ordered pulling over. “I mean it Spencer, shut the fuck up.”

  “Why me? What about Tommy?”

  “Tommy doesn’t do stupid shit...you do.” I explained.

  I reconsidered that statement when I turned around to see that he was holding an open beer bottle. Thankfully, it was empty and he quickly shoved it under the seat before the officers approached.

  There were a number of activities you shouldn’t do after midnight in downtown Tacoma. Most I’ll spare you the details for but at the top of this list are things like going to a strip club, pumping gas and getting pulled over.

  “I swear to God, you better keep your mouth shut Spencer. I mean it,” I barked when the police officer shined the light in my face.

  “Whatever. I can talk my way out of anything.” He slurred sitting up straighter in the seat. “I’ve had to do it a time or two if you remember correctly.”

  I wasn’t sure what Spencer was referring to. It was usually me having to talk our way out of things. He usually got us in deeper.

  “This is not going to end well.” Tommy muttered from the back seat slouching to one side as though he was about to puke or pass out.

  “I’m serious Spencer, don’t say anything!” I whispered as violently as I could through clenched teeth. “Tommy, control him!”

  “Me?” he quirked a lazy eyebrow, eyes glazed “He’s your brother,”

  I could tell right then he’d be of no help.

  The officer approached the car, tapping his flashlight against the window.

  Why do they tap on the window? It’s not like the flashing lights didn’t give it away that we were being pulled over. You know they are there.

  “Why hello officer,” I greeted rolling the window down and eyeing my brother with doubt.

  Not going to jail tonight depended entirely on Spencer not speaking or doing anything stupid.

  “License and registration” was his scripted greeting.

  I handed over my license and the rental car’s registration and rental agreement. “Can you tell me why I was pulled over?”

  “You didn’t use your blinker when changing lanes back there.” The officer smirked as he looked up from my driver’s license. “Where are you coming from Mr. Riley?” his eyes narrowed at my license. “Are you Jameson Riley the NASCAR driver?”

  I smiled knowing this could be my chance at getting out of this. “Yes.”

  “Tell them you want your one phone call!” Spencer screamed beside me, leaning over the console. “It shouldn’t matter that you’re a NASCAR driver. Make them treat you respectfully Jameson. Respect!”

  The officer shined his flashlight in my face. “Have you three been drinking?”

  “Well, it was my bachelor party,” I said matter-of-factly. “I had two drinks, that’s all.” I was failing miserably at this. “But I’m fine to drive. I feel great.” I offered with a smile touching my fingertip to the end of my nose.

  The thought wasn’t lost on me, or the officer, that now would be a good time to shut up.

  “Liar, you also drank those two pitchers of beer at the strip club.” Spencer bellowed. “And that—”

  I leaned over and just started punching anything I could get my hands on, praying I was doing some sort of damage to him.

  “Sorry, he’s mentally retarded.”

  “Uh-huh,” The officer said.

  “Please stay in the car sir.” I heard the officer’s partner tell Spencer who was now trying to escape.

  I punched him once more. “Don’t move.” My glare focused on Tommy behind me. “Do something about him!”

  “What the fuck am I gonna do?” Tommy asked with the same laziness he had before, his eyes focused on the officer trying to control Spencer.

  “Sir, can you please step out of the vehicle?” he asked me.

  I did as he said but as I leaned against the side of the car, Spencer slid over into the driver’s seat attempting to get out. “Sir, I told you to stay in the car. If you don’t listen, I will be forced to handcuff you.”

  “Oh fuck that. You ain’t handcuffing shit.” was his response. “You need to back off. I have rights you know.”

  “All right, sir,” said the officer as he whipped out his handcuffs. “I warned you enough times. I’m going to have to detain you now.”

  That shut him up or at least his attempts at moving. Nothing could stop his fucking mouth.

  “Wait,” Spencer held up his hands. “My wife will kill me if I get arrested, please don’t! I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

  I sighed shaking my head in disbelief that this night could get any worse after that horrifying lap dance. It was turning out to be the worst night of my life and it was supposed to be my bachelor party, a time where most men have a good time and wake up remembering nothing. I had a feeling I’d remember this for a while, partly because of a possible DUI and jail time if Spencer didn’t shut the fuck up. I’m sure dad and Simplex would love this one.

  A few minutes later, I’m sure you know who to thank for this but we were all in the back of the patrol car as the cops did backgrounds checks or whatever it was that they do.

  Next to us sat a kid, I assumed, who could pass for Eminem’s brother.

  Just so you know, because it’s not at all comfortable, if you crammed four male adults into the back of a squad car, you are practically sitting on each other’s laps.

  “Where you headin’ Slim Shady?” Spencer asked him eventually when it was obvious we were going to be back here for a little while.

  “Spencer,” I said pleadingly looking over at the kid between us. “I’m sorry. He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s mentally retarded.”

  I frequently found myself having to make excuses for Spencer’s behavior. And I wasn’t surprised at all this was the second time, tonight, that I’d told someone he was mentally retarded.

  Tommy started laughing on the other side of Spencer to the point where I actually thought he was crying. Complete one-eighty from his previous lazy ass. Being arrested does things to people though.

  “Oh come on, I wouldn’t say that,” Spencer jumped in glaring at Tommy and then focused on me again.

  “I would.”

  “Well, being classified as retarded, no, I don’t think so. That is a very serious mental disorder. It’s not something to just throw out there. You shouldn’t make fun of people with that disorder. They had no control over it. Like crabs. There’s no controlling that shit.”

  “What?”

  “Retardation, Jameson.” He rolled his eyes. “Please try to follow the conversation for once. You get distracted way too easily and I’m left trying to explain things to you.”

  Ignoring him, I focused on the kid again. I wasn’t entirely serious when I asked my next question, but I asked anyways.

  “What are you back here for?” I asked nonchalantly, trying to hide my fear of my dad murdering me for being arrested again by picking at the hole in my jeans.

  “Murder I suppose. I killed my brother,” He said, looking directly at me and then to Spencer as a sly grin tugged at his chapped lips.

  It was right about then I notice blood on his army green jacket.

  “Nice. I was contemplating killing mine,” I told him as coolly as I could, still picking my jeans. “Any pointers?”

  I could see Spencer slowly shimmyin
g away from the kid out of the corner of my eye. This amused me.

  Tommy, well, he looked like his face was brighter than his hair.

  The kid glanced at Spencer and then me. “Yeah, don’t get caught.”

  “Anything else?” I don’t know why I was instigating this conversation further but the look of pure shook on Spencer’s face had something to do with it.

  “Nope. Just don’t get caught,” he said still gauging my reaction.

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded praying he was full of shit and judging by the blood on his jacket, knowing he wasn’t. I didn’t know if I really wanted to know anymore but again, the look on Spencer’s face drove me. “So, how’d you kill your brother?” I asked looking past him and toward Spencer with a scowl. “I really do need pointers.”

  “With a crowbar,” he replied undeterred by Spencer’s sudden onset of screaming.

  I was not prepared for that response. Neither was Spencer.

  What kind of sick bastard beats their brother to death with a goddamn crowbar?

  What happened next was worth being back there with that crazy bastard though.

  “Get us the fuck out of here!” Spencer wailed climbing on Tommy’s lap and pounding his fists against the door. It was almost like the transformation of the Incredible Hulk or some other super hero transformation. “Let us out!”

  Though I was still shocked they would put us in the backseat of a patrol car with a murderer, I was entertained by Spencer’s reaction.

  Another ten minutes of this, the cops finally returned and removed us from the backseat leaving Slim Shady alone.

  “I see you all have fairly clean records,” cop one said looking between the two of us. “So you’re free to go...but would it be possible to get an autograph and a picture with you, Jameson?”