Trading Paint

by Shey Stahl

Figures this shit would happen when I needed to run good. This was a National event and placing in the top five in a feature was something that needed to happen.

  “Jameson,” Sway called out from inside the hauler. “You’re in the next heat race.”

  “How?” I knew I didn’t make the transfer spot.

  “Shaley dropped out. Transmission’s shot—you’re in.”

  I nodded and pulled my helmet back on. “We need to run it. If it blows, it blows.” I shrugged when Spencer began to grumble again about this being our last motor.

  There was nothing we could do. Once the temperatures spiked like that it was a given it’d blow but you couldn’t be sure when.

  Surprisingly we did well in the second heat and advanced to the feature where the track changed drastically.

  I corrected my line, searching for the new groove while gobs of mud flew, slapping my helmet visor. Coming out of turn two I yanked a tear-off in order to clear my vision; the narrow strip of cellophane fluttered away.

  Depending on a track conditions, it varied how many I tore away.

  Track conditions have a tendency to change quickly on dirt, so you come out of turn two and entering turn three, it’s different.

  Asphalt and dirt are extremely different. Dirt changes tremendously throughout the night whereas asphalt changes too, just not as drastically. You can actually feel it when asphalt was changing.

  Dirt is weird. When most people think of dirt they think it’s the same everywhere they go.

  That’s not entirely true.

  With composition of dirt being different everywhere you go, each track has a unique personality. Where some tracks dry up and resemble asphalt, others stay moist and sticky all night.

  That night the track dried out so it was hard to find a line and setup my car worked well with. At tracks like Cottage Grove, I preferred running high and letting my right rear bounce off the cushion, jolting me forward. Sometimes this worked, other times it didn’t. It seemed that any line I tried, my car would hang on.

  That’s the other thing with dirt, when the track changes, the groove changes and you have to find your new groove and hope like hell it has the same speed as the one you just had. You’re constantly looking for the new groove and some racers don’t even see the track changing.

  We made it to the feature but the engine wasn’t what took us out of the race with six laps to go. In my 360-Sprint I ran three brakes, every corner but the right. It was a trick my dad taught me that helps with cornering at tracks like Cottage Grove when the rails tend to get bunched up by the slower cars.

  This obviously does nothing for your stopping power.

  So there I was running second next to Justin West, when I leaned against him in turn one, couldn’t slow down as much as I needed and took us both out and destroyed both cars.

  I immediately got out, checked on Justin and apologized. I hated that I took him out in Skagit for a stupid mistake and now here I was taking him out again.

  Now I’m not going to say I wasn’t pissed. I was pissed. I hated losing. Anyone who tells you they don’t mind losing is full of shit.

  I walked back to the pits while they brought my car around. Looking over the smashed wing and front axle that was twisted around the side, I hated to think what it was going to cost to fix it and how hard my dad would make me work at the shop to pay for the parts.

  Though my dad had money to fix the cars I destroyed, it didn’t mean that shit came for free. I worked my ass off in that shop to be able to race. All that hard work didn’t go without learning either. I could put a sprint car together from the ground up if need be and to me that was huge to learning these cars and how they handled.

  In turn, I felt that it made me a better driver understanding things like that.

  I took my time getting back to the hauler, watching the last few laps. Sway sat beside Spencer and Alley, biting her nails. She did this when she was gauging my reaction to something.

  Flashing a smile at her and I looked over at Spencer.

  “Car’s done for,”

  “I see that.” He muttered looking over the wreckage that pulled into the pits.

  We ended up finding a hotel right outside of Cottage Grove for the night.

  “Who picked this shit hole?” I asked afraid to remove my clothes or shoes for that matter.

  Alley dropped her bag on the floor. “Since you three aren’t eighteen yet, we did.”

  “You could have found some place—” I began but was interrupted by Spencer’s glare to shut up. “Right,” I mumbled understanding he had no choice in the matter.

  Alley had Spencer by the balls.

  “Where are we all sleeping?” Sway asked rubbing her eyes. Emma was already asleep on the couch leaving two queen-size beds.

  “Alley and I will take this bed and you and Jameson take that one.” Spencer said laying down on the bed.

  We were all so exhausted by the time we reached the hotel. I don’t think anyone had enough energy to argue, not that I would have argued sleeping next to Sway anyway.

  “Keep your clothes on.” I whispered to Sway when she began to take her jeans off. “This bed is questionable.”

  “Good idea.” She smiled looking down at me.

  We’d slept in the same bed together before on a few different occasions and I soon realized she liked to sleep in just her underwear, no matter where she was.

  Sway wasn’t self-conscious at all, nor did she have any reason to be. She’d walk around naked in front of you if you didn’t object. I didn’t want to object but for the sake of my self-control, I objected.

  Once in bed, Spencer and Alley were fast asleep which left me wide awake staring at Sway.

  “Stop looking at me,” she whispered startling me.

  “Sorry, you sleeping?”

  “Yes, but I’m answering you...strange.”

  “Shit head.” I nudged her shoulder.

  “Was it good?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  Was what good? I wondered.

  “Chelsea.”

  “Oh...” Sway and I usually talked about these things but now I didn’t know what to say and I was curious as hell as to what went on between her and Cooper last night. “No, it was quick though.”

  “Minute man, eh?”

  “Not quite. I was thinking of someone else.” I told her honestly praying she didn’t ask who. Thankfully, she didn’t and I’m not so sure she even heard me.

  Her eyes drooped shut once before opening. “Well she’s a bitch regardless.”

  “What did you do with Cooper?” I blurted out.

  “Uh...nothing much. We had sex a couple weeks ago and now he wants it all the time but,” her eyes opened and she smiled. I could see a faint blush to her cheeks. “he sucks...really, he does. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It just felt like movements you know, something to satisfy an inch.”

  “Well he’s still an asshole.”

  “He’s your friend.” She pointed out.

  “He’s still a dick.” I repeated rolling over on my back to stare at the white ceiling.

  “We should find new people to have sex with.” She mused tiredly.

  “Like each other.” I breathed softly.

  Her eyes were closed so I assumed she couldn’t hear me. That wasn’t the first time I’d made sexual innuendos toward her but she never took me seriously. I was constantly telling her what a nice ass she had but she always blew it off as teasing.

  “Yeah,” she answered and rolled over, leaning in to kiss my cheek, her eyes closed. She intended to kiss my cheek but just as she did that, I turned my head and our lips met.

  The spark sent a jolt of electricity to the exact place I didn’t want it to. Her lips stayed connected with mine before returning the kiss with another one, and then another as she shifted closer to me.

  My hand rose hesitantly and cupped her cheek as I leaned in for another kiss, my lips parting ever so slightly, breathing her in. She felt amazing
, she felt right. I wanted her badly.

  I did the only thing I knew to do and that was to shift away from her, hiding my arousal. Sway didn’t need this. She needed someone better and not Cooper or Dylan.

  Hell, I would never think anyone was good enough for her, including me.

  “Goodnight Sway.” I whispered and kissed her forehead once before turning away from her.

  Through years of experience and extensive observation, I’ve determined my brother is clinically insane. At least that’s the only rational explanation for his behavior that I could come up with.

  First off, sleeping in a hotel room with Spencer was a risk in its self. Second, waking up alone in a hotel room with him was even worse. Just like any other volatile animal you never knew when he’d attack and for a reason unbeknownst to me, I was his favorite target, besides Sway. If he could knock us both down with one hit, he’d do so.

  So there Sway and I were, lying in bed, alone. Everyone else must have gotten up to eat breakfast.

  Yawning and stretching I went to move my arms above my head when I realized I couldn’t. They were handcuffed...not to the motherfucking bed but worst of all, to Sway.

  This wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t half-naked, as was Sway and Spencer fucking knew that. It’s exactly why he did it.

  He may be a deeply trouble sadistic asshole but stupid was not one of his qualities.

  This was not the ideal situation for a number of reasons but all that flooded through my stupid teenage brain were pornographic images of Sway in handcuffs and all the things I would enjoy doing to her.

  Consequently, this resulted in an embarrassing reaction that I couldn’t cover up because my hands were handcuffed.

  Thank god for the blanket.

  I pulled on the chain, the clanging of the cuffs hitting against the metal framed bed caused Sway to stir.

  “What the fuck?” she shouted realizing her hands were cuffed.

  The sequence of emotions that displayed across her features would have been entertaining if we weren’t handcuffed.

  “Fucking Spencer,” She grumbled and slumped back against the bed.

  If there is one positive thing I can say about Spencer, it’s that he never does anything half-assed. The crazy son of a bitch had somehow removed my jeans leaving me in my boxer-briefs.

  I moved my legs to relieve the pinching on my wrists when the blanket slipped off both of us pooling on the floor. This also wouldn’t have been so bad until my reaction to the pornographic images was revealed.

  There was no way to hide it.

  I was mortified. Sway was entertained.

  “Ummm...are you okay?” she asked in between giggles.

  “I’m so glad you’re entertained by this.” I replied not so calmly.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just...” her giggles prevented her from finishing.

  I did the only thing I could. I kicked her.

  “You know what...you suck.”

  “Yeah, you wish right about now.” She cackled.

  That did nothing for my problem, nothing at all.

  The next fifteen minutes were spent with Sway making every sexual reference she could possibly think of. I tried to kick her off the bed and finally resorted to curling into a fetal position and trying to hide myself from her.

  Spencer eventually returned to see the results of his handy work and gloat in his glory.

  While laughing, Spencer choked out, “Wow there little brother, happy to see us?” and then proceeded to pat down his pockets searching for his phone. I could only assume that he planned to capture this on film.

  Fortunately, for me, he couldn’t find his phone, which happened about four times a day.

  Spencer has waged mental warfare on me for years and at some point, you’d think he’d move on but he hasn’t. Every chance he got he would take a picture of his fucking dick and send it to me in a text. Just so we’re clear, I did not enjoy this. It got to the point where I changed my number and refused to let him have it.

  The happiest day of my teenage life was the day he moved in with Alley. The worst day was when he still came over every goddamn day. Other than sleeping at their apartment, they were always hanging around the house—it was unacceptable to me.

  Getting him to release us was a chore. It took some major persuasion by Sway to get this accomplished.

  I didn’t have the energy to chase Spencer out of the room once I was released but Sway did.

  When she returned all sweaty and panting, I bolted for the bathroom. The reactions I was having to her this morning were alarming.

  The entire trip home Spencer made references to wood and said the word “hard” any chance he could. Sway provoked him which was just another part of the day that was unacceptable to me.

  At one point when we stopped for lunch, I pushed Sway against the side of the restaurant when everyone else walked inside.

  “What’s up?” her eyebrows waggled, grinning lasciviously.

  “Shut up already,” I groaned. “It’s not entertaining.”

  “Oh, yes it is.” another grin. “It’s very entertaining.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her fingertips touched to her lips as though she was contemplating. “Now tell me, do you always have this much of a reaction in the mornings or was it just in my presence?”

  I couldn’t tell if she wanted an honest answer so I started to panic. “Yes...wait, what?”

  “I’m being serious,” her eyes narrowed and she was being serious. “What’s with you? Why are you acting all weird...so I saw your morning wood, big deal?”

  “Big?”

  Her face flushed and her eyes darted to the concrete. “Like you need to be told,”

  “Ego boosting is always good.” I suggested and leaned back against the brick wall.

  “Like I said, you don’t need to be told but yes, you’re rather large Riley.”

  Spencer walked and looked at us. “Hey assholes—get in here.”

  Sway reached for my hand when I groaned. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  “You need to stop it with that shit.” I hissed and smacked her ass causing her to yelp.

  “Or else what?” she challenged opening the large glass doors to the restaurant.

  “You don’t want to be on my bad side...I’m your best friend so I know all the ways to get you back, and I know all the things you are deathly afraid of.”

  “You wouldn’t...” she knew damn well I was aware she was afraid of clowns and could wreck-havoc on her with them if I wanted to.

  “Watch me.” I smacked her ass once more, this time my hand lingered a little longer than necessary.

  As teenagers, we want to see ourselves as some kind of renegade, or rule breaker, a badass really. That’s exactly how we want to see ourselves—it’s cool right?

  It’s bullshit. We’re just as vulnerable as everyone else, probably more so with the addition of the teenage hormones that control our bodies and ruled our decisions.

  Either way, we want to take risks and prove to everyone that we are those renegade rule breakers we think we are. With any risk, there can be reward but then there can also be fallout. Then what? All I knew was I wasn’t willing to take the risk when it came to Sway. Losing her friendship wasn’t an option.

  As a teenager, I took risks every day. It was part of being that teenage badass we all wanted to be but some risks you just don’t take out of fear of the unknown.

  The funny thing with risks was that even if you’re not willing to take them, they’re still tempting, like the last cookie on the plate. After a while, your self-control gets the best of you and you reach out for the cookie.

  7. High Heat – Jameson

  High Heat – Above normal tire temperature that’s usually around 260 degrees.

  Toward the end of my senior year, my life had turned crazy and it was only May. I was racing at different tracks around the Northwest every weekend and when I wasn’t racing, I was working in the race shop or doing hom
ework to graduate in a month. I couldn’t fucking wait. I also couldn’t wait to get away from Chelsea. Since we had sex, she pretty much stalked me.

  I had no time for anything; barely enough time to sleep and if it wasn’t for caffeine, I’d be asleep right now as I tried to focus on my mid-term final.

  Sway kicked my leg under the wooden table we sat at during our political economics class. As I thought to myself why I would ever need to know anything about political economics to better myself, she whispered, “Wake up,”

  I shook my head, trying to focus but the late nights getting my car ready for the next weekend were taking a toll on me and my attention span.

  Once school finals were over, it was time for the World of Outlaws race in Chico and then Cottage Grove followed by Elma and Skagit. It was a busy week for my family and a chance at seeing my dad for more than a few days at a time. He was usually on the road beginning in March and ending in late November so we welcomed the chance at finally seeing each other when he was home.

  Since I was competing on the Northern Sprint Tour this year, I had to make all four races and place. I ended up driving down to Chico to meet up with Dad and his teammate now, Bucky Miers.

  Bucky was a good wholesome guy. He’d do anything to help you out if it was in his power so I wasn’t surprised when Spencer and I pulled into town and Bucky was standing there with my dad and an older gentleman dressed in a black suit.

  Spencer and I got out and approached them. Bucky smiled at me and gestured toward the man.

  “Jameson, this is Walter Gains. He’s the president of Bowman Oil. He’d like to talk to you about sponsoring your car next year and running the USAC Silver Crown series full-time.”

  I’m sure my eyes widened. Dad and I had frequently talked about my plans for next year once I graduated and I’d made it clear to him I’d be racing. I still didn’t have a plan in place but I knew just as he had done, the real challenge was in the Midwest and East Coast. Those are where the big boys are.

  I reached for his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Gains.”

  “Son, call me Walter and let’s talk.”

  Walter and I talked for a good hour about my plans for next year. I told him I’d planned on heading to the Midwest to try my luck out there with the open wheel guys and in turn he offered up sponsorship on a silver crown car as well as a sprint and midgets if I chose to run them.