Trading Paint

by Shey Stahl

  Watching closely as he waved to the crowd, my thoughts swirled around wanting those very same hands touching me. Just the same as any other night, the same thrill shot through me when he revved his engine and the same erratic beating of my heart was there when he took the green flag.

  One would think someone who was only eighteen years old would show some sort of rookie mistake but he didn’t. He rocked the house that night. His agile movements, his alertness, his adroitness shined.

  Even Tyler and Justin, the only two that could stop him this season couldn’t touch him that night. He was in a league of his own.

  I stayed in the stands until he took the checkered flag. Even when he did, I stayed back and simply just watched his unpretentious but confident side emerge in victory lane.

  He glanced around when Tommy and Spencer darted down to the track. I thought maybe he was looking for me but I couldn’t be sure. He took his picture with the trophy girls and received his check for winning before making his way into the pits. I decided to catch him at the trailer to congratulate him when the trophy girl made her way there as well.

  Lately this would have infuriated me but seeing Jameson smile the way he did when he saw me, I realized at the moment, what I felt for my best friend was way more than friends now.

  When he kissed me, it shook me to my core. I was weak and I’d never been weak. I was independent but when he kissed me, I was reliant and helpless.

  Pit lizards surrounded us when Jameson hoisted himself from the car, his face flushed and his eyes glowing.

  “Come here.” He mouthed.

  Naturally, I pushed forward and approached his car.

  I smiled, probably a sappy puppy smile but I tried to fight any emotion that would give away that I was most likely in love with my best friend.

  “Good job.” I reached up to wipe some dirt from his cheek.

  He leaned into my hand covering it with his own. He didn’t say anything but he stared into my eyes for a long moment before chuckling. “I can’t believe I won Nationals.”

  “I can.”

  The party in our pit that night was insane as it should have been. He had just won a national event and that was huge. Even though I felt my feelings shifting, I knew Jameson’s weren’t. When we kissed later that night, the uncertainty was clear. Even when we ended up falling on top of each other sitting by the fire we camped out next to, he tried to get up many times but came back again.

  Once again, we slept in the same sleeping bag. We seemed to do this when we were drunk and trying to avoid my own internal deliberation, I got so drunk I blacked out.

  All I remember was making out with Jameson and when I woke up my bra was off, though my pants were still on and intact. My shirt was another story, as was Jameson’s.

  Both of us were confused as to what happened but I was relieved to know that I didn’t have sex with him, at least we didn’t think so considering our pants were on. I later got a laugh out of Jameson when he admitted he needed to change because it was apparent he had gotten pleasure out of whatever we did in that sleeping bag. This entertained me. Poor boy had been so sexually deprived he probably came just from making out. Not to say I didn’t because I probably did too.

  As usual, we never talked about what happened in the sleeping bag and by the next weekend at the Williams Grove National Open, we were back to being our usual selves.

  I think that’s what I was beginning to love most about him. We had a good relationship and didn’t even need to try. We could get drunk, fool around, and we didn’t need to explain. It was just friends being comfortable. I knew we needed to have boundaries to it and I was certain we would never have sex but we were sexually comfortable with one another as well as being able to not have to try. We were just friends in his eyes but I saw more to the fazing mystique that everyone else saw.

  I saw Jameson Antony Riley, my best friend who inadvertently and unbeknownst to him, I had just fallen in love with. I think.

  Being in Williams Grove that weekend meant Jimi and Nancy were around. I thought I’d hidden my newfound knowledge of loving my best friend fairly well. I told him to fuck off on more than one occasion this weekend but apparently...I didn’t slip this past Nancy. How could I? She herself loved a racer.

  “I’ve seen that look before sweetie.” She said to me as we watched Jameson and Jimi during hot laps.

  I hid my face in my hands. “I’m so stupid.”

  Gently she rubbed my back. “You’re not stupid. I’ve been there before.”

  I had heard from Emma how Nancy and Jimi fell in love but I didn’t know everything. By her expression, I was about to find out. I loved Nancy. I felt at ease in her presence and now wasn’t any different. She had a way of calming your nerves and you didn’t even know it until you sighed happily. She was literally like a breath of fresh air.

  Tucking a loose strand of her rusty waves behind her ear, she smiled. “Do you want to hear how we fell in love?”

  I nodded and positioned myself so I could hear her better. With the cars on the track, their roar could be deafening at times.

  “My childhood wasn’t the greatest. After my parents died my aunt Mae moved us to Elma where she met Terry, the owner of Grays Harbor raceway before Charlie bought it. So like you, I grew up around Elma.” I knew this already as she’d told me once before as did Jameson. “So when I was seventeen I was running the back ticket booth when the sprint car guys of the mid-west were in town. This was before the World of Outlaw series was formed. There I was, working the booth when a handsome driver approached. I’d seen my share of roughed up drivers so to see a handsome one, I was looking.” She smiled again, her eyes lighting up when she looked over at Jimi sliding past Shey in turn three. “I watched him race in the heats and then made my way to the pit concessions. Jimi came over for a beer. I wasn’t sure he was twenty-one so of course I carded him. I handed him back his ID and beer to have him keep a hold on my hand and say: “Does this mean I get to take you out later.” We went out later that night and I was sure when he left town the next day that he would forget my name. I didn’t see him again for four months and by then I was eighteen. He came to town again for the track championship night but he wasn’t racing. I couldn’t figure out why he drove across the United States to not even race.”

  I smiled warmly. “He came for you?”

  “Yes, he said he knew what he wanted and that was me.” Nancy put her hand on my back again. “Once the Riley men figure out what they want, they’re persistent and relentless.”

  I knew this well. This season couldn’t have begun any worse for him when he started USAC and now look at him: two points out of the lead in the Triple Crown heading into Pontoon Beach with six weeks to go. I had no doubt in my mind he’d pull this off. When he wanted something Nancy was right, he was just like any other Riley, he persevered against all odds.

  “I won’t say anything.” Nancy offered observing me watching Jameson sign some autographs in front of the pit gate. “But once he figures out what it is that he wants, I get to say I told you so.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way.” I responded disheartened.

  Nancy laughed quietly. “I know my son. Of all my children, I can read him the best.”

  I was about to tell her she was wrong when Emma dropped down beside us in the bleachers. “I swear to god, the longer we are around each other the more I want to kill him. He’s such a jerk these days.”

  “He’s not that bad.” I replied gazing at him like a goddamn idiot. A few pit lizards had surrounded him when he got out of the car.

  “Bullshit he’s not that bad. That asshole punched Trace!” Trace was another midget driver that Emma had been hanging around with. She apparently didn’t get the memo when he told her she wasn’t allowed to date other racers.

  “Why do you think we intended to stop having kids after Jameson? He’s been that way since he was a baby. You should have seen the fit he threw when we took his bottle away.”


  “What do you mean intended to stop having kids?” Emma asked skeptically.

  “Emma,” Nancy sighed but had a wide grin as if she’d just won the lottery. “You were an accident.”

  “I was?” she balked.

  I laughed, scratch that, I fucking fell over laughing hysterically. Not because Emma was an accident but because of her expression of pure mortification.

  Emma leaned over and pushed me off the bench. I landed on my ass, still laughing next to the bleachers. “You bitch.”

  “Emma, watch your language.”

  “What’s up asshats?” Was Spencer’s greeting to us.

  Nancy shook her head. There was no hope for us. You’d think truckers raised us all but when you grow up at dirt tracks, cussing is part of the game. “He’s is a mood tonight.” Spencer said nodding to Jameson who was still signing autographs and glaring at another driver, Alex Reed.

  “Isn’t that the kid that wrecked him in Dodge City back in June?”

  “Yeah,” said Spencer before standing. “Come on Sway, he wants us to get him away from them.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Five minutes after they surrounded him...I thought I’d take my time though.” Spencer found it funny when the women mauled him.

  I shook my head. “And you two wonder why he’s such an asshole all the time.”

  Later that night prior to the B-Feature Jameson found me inside his hauler avoiding the pit lizard convention outside. “Where have you been all night?” his voice was laced with tetchiness.

  “I...was with your mom.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know she was here.”

  I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know. He’d barely been able to leave the hauler tonight and when he did there was a crowd surrounding him.

  My eyes found his. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he let out an enervated sigh. This season had done a number on him. “Only six more weeks,”

  “Yeah...then what?”

  “Home for a few weeks and then off to California for Turkey Night and then back to Eldora in February.”

  “Have you thought about Australia?”

  Bucky had been pressuring him to go to Australia right after Turkey Night to race in their sprint car series for the winter. Sprint car and midget racing was huge down there.

  “I don’t think I’m going to. Maybe next year. I just need to regroup.” He stepped closer and threw his arm around my shoulder. “You know,” he smirked. “I always race better when my good luck charm gives me a kiss.”

  I giggled. “What kind of a friend would I be if I said no.”

  “Clearly not a good one,”

  “Fine...” I acted like this was no big deal but any time Jameson had kissed me these last few weeks, it was all I could do not rape him.

  “Try to control your excitement just a little.” He derided.

  “Oh, sorry,” I threw myself into a balls out kiss.

  I knew anytime I put everything I had into our frequent boundary pushing, he panicked and pushed me away. I tested him.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and wiped that goddamn smirk off his face. His tongue was the first to brush across my lower lip. Within seconds of his tongue entering my mouth he let out a groan and pushed me against the side of his hauler, his strong hands moved from my hips to my thighs and pulled me up around his waist.

  Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him and felt what I was doing to him. I was counting down the seconds before he put the brakes on and wrenched himself away but it took more time than usual. This time he let it go on and I was the one to stop. He needed to focus and not be doing this. Jameson had enough distractions lately and making out with his best friend should not be one of them.

  “Jameson...” I breathed in his ear but he didn’t stop, instead he pushed me back further, grunting as his hips met mine. “Stop,” I said softly and I’m not sure he heard me because he didn’t stop.

  I pushed against his shoulders only to have him push back against mine and wrap his arms around me tighter. He strained closer and moved his hips again.

  As much as I enjoyed it, we did need to stop or I knew where this would be heading.

  “Jameson, you...I need you to stop.”

  I moved my mouth from his gasping for air only to have his lips travel to my neck, kissing and sucking along my collarbone. Running on instinct, I wiggled against him because this felt so goddamn good I couldn’t stop myself, his hips twitched forward and the sensation caused us both to gasp, that brought him back to reality.

  His face was pure mortification as he stumbled backward against a set of tires. “Shit...I am so sorry Sway. Fuck!” he cursed himself. “I can’t believe I did that...Jesus Christ what the fuck is wrong with me?” he punched the side of the hauler before storming out, cursing at himself.

  Well then.

  I slumped against the side of the hauler, confused.

  I knew Jameson well enough to know that he was just horny. Being on a road trip with all of us didn’t provide much time to bleed his pressure valve as Jimi would call it. I knew he’d slept with someone a few weeks back but other than that, the poor boy was in a constant state of arousal. I couldn’t blame him. He was eighteen. It had nothing to do with me. I was just there and I was safe. He didn’t have to worry about me wanting more or expecting anything from just kissing. There was only one problem with that situation. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. For so long I was all right with that but now, I didn’t know. I had begun to analyze everything.

  Eventually when I heard the cars lining up for the feature event I made my way outside. Jameson’s car was lined up but he wasn’t. It was just Tommy and Spencer standing beside it.

  “Where’s Jameson?” I asked looking around.

  “Who knows,” Spencer grumbled kicking the rear tire and then gestured with a head nod to the pits. “Asshole told us to line his car up and then took off the other direction.”

  Tommy looked perplexed. “We thought he was with you.”

  “I was with him earlier but...he left...I haven’t seen him in probably thirty minutes.”

  Right when we were starting to get nervous because the rest of the Outlaws were making their way onto the track, Jameson came running up zipping his driver’s suit as he slowed to a jog. Without looking my direction, he hoisted himself inside his car. I watched him lock in the steering wheel before sliding his gloves over his bloody knuckles. Before putting his helmet on his eyes met mine, he mouthed “sorry” and then winked.

  I gave him a smile and winked back before mouthing good luck.

  I had no idea where he disappeared to but I assumed he did some speed bleeding with either some pit lizard or himself. I hoped it was himself but doubted it. This just made me sick to my stomach to even think about and frankly, ready to vomit so I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on making fun of Tommy, always a good time.

  “Looks like fire crotch got a little too much sun today.” I slapped the back of his red neck.

  “That’s it!” he shouted chasing me toward the pit bleachers. “And you wonder why I shot you with a staple gun!”

  Being distracted by Tommy was good because when Jameson won the race, I saw the girl I assumed he fucked somewhere in the pits sitting on his lap...He removed her but I knew, a girl always knows. I was observant enough to know that he was hanging on to his sanity by a thread and I wasn’t helping.

  I didn’t believe in regretting anything in life but I was wise enough to master avoidance and denial, two of my best traits I thought.

  12. Take a Look – Jameson

  Take a Look – A driver following closely behind another car may dart momentarily to the inside at the entry to a corner, pretending to attempt a pass in order to disrupt the concentration of the driver in the front and hopefully cause a small mistake, setting up a subsequent passing attempt.

  It seemed in our rush to make it to a different track each night that this had us making silly mistakes here
and there and then there were the mistakes we had no control over but were forced to fix.

  There’s no worse feeling, as a driver or crew, than spending fifty hours a week preparing a car for the next weekend to have it break and have to start all over again the next week, praying it doesn’t break again.

  And when it does, it’s crushing for everyone involved.

  After the Triple Crown Nationals, still wanting seat time, we had the bright idea that I was going to run the Wild West Showdown, which was a six-night international driver challenge at six different tracks.

  By the fourth night in Chico, I was beat and so was my engine. It blew up half way through the feature race that night.

  Now usually we would have time to change the engine prior to the next race but with the Showdown, they had racing in Chico on Wednesday night and then Skagit on Thursday, that’s a thirteen-hour drive. So ordinarily, we would have time to stop and change out engines in the sprint car we were running that night but as luck would have it, we had to haul ass to Skagit to make it there in time for the race. It was around two in the morning when we left Chico after sleeping three hours alongside the highway. This left one option. We changed out the engine on the back of the trailer, going down I-5 at 70 mph. Not something I would ever do again with Spencer driving.

  Tommy, and our other buddy, Scott Pricket (Scooter), who we had met during the season and me were hanging off the side of the open trailer changing out engines while Emma and Sway handed us tools we needed through the back window of my truck.

  We weren’t using my hauler this week but an eighteen-foot open trailer and it wasn’t safe to be hanging off the side of it.

  “Hand me the 9/16 wrench.” I told Scooter reaching my hand over the roll bars and holding on with the other to the torsion bars. He didn’t answer so I peeked my head up making sure he hadn’t fallen off the side. “Where’s the wrench?”