Trading Paint

by Shey Stahl

  “What a de...mal?” Lane asked looking up at Jameson who was holding him.

  Jameson snickered, Alley slapped the back of Grandpa’s head and Spencer choked on his beer. Little Lane was almost three now and asked lots of questions. Last night, he asked Jameson why he was an asshole. Jameson had no response I might add.

  “You know back in my day...” he paused. He did that a lot and most of the time he forgot what he was even saying when he spoke again, as you can see.

  “When was that grandpa? Back when they still had wagons?” Spencer said with a smile knowing damn well this would piss him off. “Now tell me, when was it that they went to a rubber tire as opposed to wood?”

  “Oh fuck you Spencer.” He grumbled and then spilt his coffee Jimi gave him down the front of him.

  “Are you nervous?” Emma asked Jameson while he fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He hadn’t said much tonight and as of yet, no one had called him an asshole.

  “No,” he answered adjusting Lane, who had just fallen asleep on his lap. “It’s just a race.”

  “You’re lying.” Spencer chuckled across from him. “It’s the Daytona 500. You’re probably shitting your pants right now.”

  “Like I said...it’s just another race.” Jameson replied stretching his long legs out in front of him to lean back in the camping chair he was slouched in. “And I’m not shitting my pants.”

  He was constantly being asked the same question these last few days. “Was he scared?”

  I knew he wasn’t. Nervous—maybe, definitely not scared. The thing you had to understand about Jameson was that yeah, he would show nervousness to a point, but once inside that car, he was stalwart and fearless. Inside the confines of a race car, he was a different man. Sure, he had a few sides to him, what person didn’t but the best part about him was that he never changed. Jameson would always be Jameson. I never doubted that.

  You saw it all the time when someone comes into money or makes a big career move—they change. They suddenly become this distant version of themselves that no one recognizes. With all the success that Jameson has had over the years, he never changed. I heard some say, “Well he’s not approachable either.”

  The thing was he has never been approachable so why would he be now?

  Money and fame didn’t change that. He’d always been that way.

  Old Casten had fallen asleep by now and Tommy and Spencer were making fun of the drool coming over his beard. “That’s so disgusting.” Tommy laughed.

  “You boys better stop messing with him.” Jimi warned shaking his head. Jameson didn’t get his wicked temper from just anyone. Jimi could be quick tempered at times, but Casten, he put a bull to shame, much like Jameson.

  “He’s asleep.” Spencer defended. “He ain’t gonna know.”

  Glancing around, I noticed an awful lot of people had gathered outside his motor coach. I don’t know how some of these pit lizards managed to get into the compound area where the drivers were, but I had a feeling some of them sweet talked the officials at the gate. Anyhow, a few had made their way over to Jameson’s motor coach while we continued to make fun of Casten and his drooling.

  They were slutty leeches and I had no don’t they were only looking for one thing. Jameson.

  One of them seemed taken be Jameson and kept moving closer to him. No one paid any mind to her, as it was usual for pit lizards to be hounding him. So there she was about a foot from him and I didn’t want to steal her thunder or any entertainment out of this I would have, or Tommy and Spencer’s, so I discreetly took a seat across from them next to Jimi. Undoubtedly, I was not thinking when I did this.

  Steal her thunder you fucking idiot!

  Maybe I wasn’t breathing enough and the supply of oxygen was being diverted again.

  Alley came by, picked up Lane from Jameson’s lap and walked inside the motor coach out of the line of fire.

  She didn’t like all the women hanging around and I couldn’t blame her, we were a bad enough influence on little Lane. I usually didn’t care for these pit lizards either but I’d had a few beers by then and was contemplating how to entertain myself at Jameson’s expense. This was dangerous territory by the way.

  About ten minutes later, the girl noticed me and introduced herself. “I’m Sabrina,” she said, extending her free hand, the other wrapped around a glass of wine.

  “I’m Sway.” I said politely.

  “Well that’s an interesting name.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “How did your parents come up with that one?”

  “I was named after the Rolling Stones song Sway.”

  “Oh.” She smiled and glanced over at Jameson like he was a piece of meat. “Are you two...?” she pointed back and forth between Jameson and me when he smiled.

  “Oh no, no, he’s my best friend. We’re tight.” I winked at her and pounded my fist to my chest as though I was from the hood or something.

  Jimi’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to control his laughter along with Spencer.

  I might have only continued this because Jimi was so entertained. It had been a while since I saw him laugh this much but then again, I was drunk.

  I could only assume I was doing this because I’d been drinking because if he demonstrated any interest in her, I would have shit my pants at how incredibly stupid this was.

  Jameson turned his head in order to avoid eye contact with me, and her.

  Sabrina had a confused look on her face and opened her mouth to say something when I jumped in.

  “Don’t worry, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

  Jameson coughed loudly and stood. “Actually—”

  I interrupted. “He’s shy.”

  What is wrong with me? It’s like I’m trying to get her to come onto him?

  She turned to Jameson just about the time Jimi excused himself, his face red from suppressing his laughter.

  Tommy and Spencer were glancing in between Jameson and me probably wondering how this was going to end.

  “I think being shy is adorable.” Sabrina said in his ear.

  Jameson glared in my direction.

  I didn’t know what to do so I winked.

  Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have done this but the fact that I knew he wouldn’t be interested made it that much funnier to me, and everyone else...aside from Jameson.

  “I’m getting hungry.” I announced standing. I was also starting to panic and ready to bolt at any moment.

  Jameson shot up out of the chair.

  “I’ll go get you something,” he said with a venomous look on his face. “Since we’re tight and all.”

  He came back a few minutes later and tossed a bag of chips in my lap before sitting back down in the only open chair, next to Sabrina, glaring in my direction.

  “So how did you two meet?” Sabrina asked scooting closer to Jameson.

  I started to make something up when Jameson jumped in.

  “We met when she got out of rehab.” He picked up my drink and sniffed the red cup. “Goddamn it, Sway. You shouldn’t be drinking!” he reprimanded, pointing his finger in my face. Then he shook his head, took me by the elbow, and said, “Let’s get you away from the temptation.”

  Well that did not turn out in my favor. Why does it always back fire on me when I’m trying to embarrass him?

  Tommy, Spencer and now Emma, we laughing so hard they could barely stand.

  I shrugged out of his grip. “Asshole,” I muttered.

  He pushed me inside his motor coach. “What the fuck was that?”

  I couldn’t help it; I once again panicked and started giggling. I panicked because I wanted to tell him, I was testing you to see if you’d leave with someone. Did I tell him that? No, hell no.

  He was not pleased by this and if possible, became even angrier and left.

  “It was just for fun!” I yelled after him still giggling. He flipped me off.

  Nice going asshole. You pissed him off.

  After c
omposing myself, I walked back outside the motor coach to find Jameson had left, Tommy chatting it up with Mariah and Casten sound asleep.

  I strolled around the compound looking for Jameson when I spotted him at Tate’s motor coach talking with him and Tate’s teammate Austin.

  When I approached them, Jameson, with his arms crossed, shot me a look like “don’t you even think about embarrassing me”, so I didn’t. I figured I’d done enough for one night.

  “This is Tate Harris,” he gestured toward Tate. “You guys met at the Chili Bowl, right?”

  I nodded shaking hands with Tate and then turned to Austin.

  “And this is Austin Yale.” Jameson said. “He drives the number thirty-two car.”

  “Nice to meet you guys.” I said smiling. Jameson surprised me and slung his arm around my shoulder pulling me next to him when Austin made small talk with me.

  The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Austin who moved on to converse with a group of girls gathered near Tate’s motor coach.

  So he doesn’t leave with pit lizards, he makes out with me and shows possession? Can you say confused?

  Jameson and I left soon after that to walk back toward his motor coach. I could tell a lot was on his mind. My first plan to distract him backfired and in fear his tenuous good mood would get worse, I decided to talk racing and asked him if he thought his car could win tomorrow.

  “Yeah—probably,” His said, disinterested. “It’s fast in the draft.” I thought he would say more but he just shrugged his shoulders.

  By the time we got back to his motor coach, Casten was on his second wind and had his flask back. I wondered how Nana kept up with the old bastard at home.

  Spencer’s eyes lit up when he saw us. “Natalie asked me how you were.”

  “Spencer, not now,” Jameson groaned.

  Natalie? Who’s Natalie? I thought to myself, my stomach churning. Here I was just moments ago provoking a pit lizard and now when another one is mentioned, I become terrified.

  I’m such a girl that it is revolting.

  “She left her phone number,” Spencer snickered handing him a napkin. He crumbled it up and tossed in the garbage next to the food table without looking.

  “Who’s Natalie?” I asked hesitantly taking a seat. I tried to play it off like I wasn’t interested but I’m sure it didn’t appear that way, my face was reasonably flushed and prickly feeling. I could feel the heat radiating off myself.

  “No one,” Jameson replied sitting next to me, his thigh touching mine. “She’s no one.” When he finally glanced over at me his look of honesty had me once again questioning his intention.

  “Oh, come on, Jameson.” Spencer teased. “You remember her...the freaky one from California?” all the guys started laughing as Spencer wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Can we not do this right now?” Jimi took a drink of his whiskey shaking his head. “I don’t think I want to hear any of this.”

  Nancy, Emma and Alley had left with Lane leaving me and the guys standing around.

  “I agree.” Jameson nodded and I could tell that he was trying not to look at me again. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”

  “What are you doing Grandpa?” Spencer asked when Casten slapped the back of his head.

  “That’s for being stupid.” He remarked in disgust. “Jameson obviously doesn’t want everyone to know who he’s been align boring.” Jameson shot out of the chair and locked the door behind him.

  Later, as in two hours later, he let me in because all my stuff was in there but he didn’t speak to anyone the rest of the night and insisted I sleep in his bed with him.

  “Aren’t you mad?” I asked timidly crawling into bed with him.

  “Yes, I’m mad but I’m also tired.” He grumbled tweaking his pillow the way he liked it. “Now let’s sleep. I’ll be mean in the morning.”

  “Oh goody,”

  He was quiet for a moment before leaning over and pulling me against him. His hand cupped my cheek. “Don’t do that to me again. I don’t want those girls.” His voice was drowsy, his eyes half closed. “I don’t want them.” He repeated and then let his eyes close, his beautiful thick lashes casted shadows over his cheeks. I ran my fingers over the rough edges of the stubble of his jaw.

  So he slept and I contemplated what I had just done. I don’t know why I tested him like that and if he would have left with Veronica, I would have cried. I could only presume I did this out of pure curiosity. I wanted to see if he was presented the opportunity to leave with a girl, would he take it. During our summer, he would have left with her. Now, he didn’t seem to show any interest in other women. He glanced, but that was as far as he ever took it and never anything more than a quick glance.

  Did this mean something?

  I watched him sleep for an hour. He was on his stomach clad in just pair of black boxer briefs, his arms curled under a pillow. Every muscle in his body was sculpted to perfection and I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of the exposed skin, tasting him. I wanted to rape the pour boy for Christ sakes.

  Grumbling to myself, I turned the other way in fear I’d attack him. Images of our hot make-out session the night I arrived replayed in my mind.

  The way his body felt hovering over mine. The way his camshaft felt against me. I knew he wanted more, it was obvious but he stopped. He always pulled away, collecting himself before things advanced which made me think he didn’t want this. That might have been why I tested him with Mariah.

  That was stupid Sway.

  “I know.” I told myself. It was around four in the morning before I finally fell asleep but even then, I dreamt of all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I wished like hell I had the nerve to tell him.

  Chicane – Jameson

  My alarm went off a four-thirty that morning, not that I wanted it to, but I wanted to get in a run before all the pre-race activities began. I knew I shouldn’t run before a race, but I had to clear my head and that was the only way I knew to.

  Hoisting myself up, I turned off the alarm and sat on the edge of the bed in my motor coach for a moment before getting up.

  I tried to remain quiet, though Sway pissed me off last night with her little stunt, I still didn’t want to wake her. It was my own fault anyway. If I would have been able to control myself more often, I wouldn’t have to be dealing with these stalkers. Yeah my family loved to remind me of it nowadays but it was my own fault.

  Sway was curled up next to me, her hands next to her face made her almost look angelic, almost. If you knew Sway, you knew that was not possible for her. Even though she pissed me off, I couldn’t not sleep next to her.

  Being away from her for nearly a year, I had to be next to her. With the way our schedules were, what if I didn’t get to see her for another year? I couldn’t take a chance.

  She looked so peaceful, her dark hair fanned out over my pillow. I watched her chest rising and falling with each breath for a moment. Her beauty was remarkable and had me wanting to hold her, so I left for my run.

  The sun was beginning to rise over the track creating an array of light cerise across the sky. My favorite time of the day to run was at sunrise because it was the beginning of a new day, usually nothing had gone wrong yet and the possibilities were endless.

  My iPod played Metallica loudly in my ears and I was able to tune everything out, tried at least. The scattered motor coaches and camp trailers in the infield passed by me in a blur as I picked up the pace of my run. I chuckled to myself as a few fans waved their hands in the air from where they were perched up on the roofs of their camp trailers. It’s hard to believe people willingly got out of bed this early.

  I pushed myself harder, my feet hitting the asphalt faster. I envisioned the race in my head, my lungs burning painfully from the exertion. I tried to keep my thoughts clear, but they shifted back toward last night and the hounding pit lizards. I never thought Sway would instigate them, she knew how I felt about that but then again her words neve
r matched her facial expression. I saw something behind her eyes I never saw before, compunction.

  Once I made one lap around the track, I headed back to my motor coach to find Sway and Cal up already making breakfast. Simplex had delivered an array of apparel to us yesterday so I wasn’t surprised to see Sway wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with the logo plastered across the chest with matching sweatpants that appeared to be at least three sizes too large.

  She was adorable.

  “Are you in a better mood asshole?” Was Sway’s way of greeting me when I walked through the door.

  “Hmm,” I contemplated taking a few strips of bacon, chewing slowly. “That depends.” I grinned looking down at her.

  “On what?” Her brow furrowed as she ate her own bacon from the plate on the counter.

  “You apologize for last night. That was not funny.”

  “I thought it was funny.” Cal said loading a plate for me with his egg white mixture that I loved so much and wheat toast. “Your face was priceless.”

  “You don’t have to do all this, Cal.” I chuckled as he poured some orange juice for me. “Driving my motor coach around for me is enough. You don’t have to feed me too.”

  “I enjoy cooking Jameson. It’s no problem. And I’ve seen you make toaster waffles before.” His head tipped the direction of the black smudges on the wall where I’d caught the toaster on fire last season.

  Ignoring him, I turned to Sway, her mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Are you going to apologize?”

  “Oh yes,” she grinned and sat up straighter. “I’m so sorry.” She mocked.

  Before I could tell her that the apology needed to be better, Alley was knocking on the door. “Jameson, you got a sponsorship meeting in an hour.”

  And so it begins.

  On race days, you had a sponsorship meeting where you basically kissed their ass and told them how you were going to win the race for them. Then you usually had about an hour of signing autographs, a team meeting, more autographs, the drivers meeting, more autographs, introductions, more autographs and then the race.