by Shey Stahl
But then when I thought about it, we are both leaned up against the side of his car but what was even more obvious, the lack of space separating us.
The girl smiled looking at me. “Are you Jameson’s girlfriend?” she asked diffidently, the corners of her mouth twitching into a wide smile.
Both Jameson and me looked up at her.
I choked on my own spit. Embarrassing I know, and Jameson just chuckled at the shy girl’s brashness.
Neither one of us answered, so the she eventually left.
As I thought about what we were, what would I even say? Fuck buddies? The more I thought about it, the more I agreed with Jameson. It wasn’t anyone’s business what we were doing.
I found humor in another older gentleman hovering around for a good ten minutes asking random questions about the engine and what not. He had this hand held video camera with him, taping everything Jameson was doing.
It was actually a little creepy.
Eventually he said, “Say hi to the camera, Jameson.”
Jameson finally looked up for a brief moment and then went back to signing autographs, his dark sunglasses covering his expression. “Hi camera,” Was his response, earning a chuckle from all the fans.
The strange man never left just continued to try to ask questions. “Hey, so can I ask you a question? I need to ask you a question.”
Jameson looked up. “Ask the question then—I’m standing here.” He snapped.
The guy never did ask a direct question just stood there astounded by the fact that Jameson actually spoke to him.
It was entertaining to me that here were people that were star-struck by my best friend, someone I’ve known nearly my entire life. It was a strange concept to grasp when you witnessed the rise to fame first hand.
Reporter after reporter, fan after fan, hounded him prior to the race for autographs, handshakes, pictures, anything to take a piece of him away with them.
He handled it well. I could tell he was irritated but he did...good.
I don’t think it was ever the fans that aggravated him—it was the publicity of it all. Jameson was still a small town boy at heart who just wanted to race. All this media attention and fans hanging on his every word was sometimes overwhelming for him. I honestly believe he handled it the only way he knew how.
Today was a little different though. When I say he handled it the only way he knew how, this usually involved his short temper getting the best of him.
Alley even noticed the change in his demeanor. “What’s got him so calm? Usually he’s told a reporter or fan to fuck off by now.”
I shrugged while a heated blush crept up my neck to my cheeks.
Alley pushed me. “You’re unbelievable.” she looked down at her Blackberry. “I heard Spencer got a good look at your...” her eyes raked down my body. “parts. I’ve never seen him scared of Jameson before.”
“Did you just call my girlie bits parts?” I asked amused.
“Shut up, I have a three-year old at home.” She chided. “I had to think of something to say after Spencer tried to call his penis his junk while we were potty training him.”
“I feel bad for you sometimes.” I told her patting her back.
“You should feel bad for me.”
“Now, for the most famous words in racing...gentleman, start your engines!”
Hot damn. I loved that sound.
My bones vibrated while my heart thudded loudly in anticipation.
I was already sitting on the pit box with Emma, Kyle, and Mason listening to the in-car audio.
“Fire it up, bud.” Kyle announced to Jameson when Spencer put up his window net.
“Got it,” Jameson fired the car. “Keep me calm today, Kyle.”
“I’ll do my best.” Kyle answered.
They went on to talk about the car for a few moments and then Jameson talked to Bobby about drafting. Bobby, his teammate, had qualified second which put Jameson right behind him at the start of the race.
While the cars made their warm up laps, Aiden got on the radio. “All right Jameson, you got two laps until the green.”
“Aiden’s right.” Kyle said. “Two laps to go. Remember watch your shift—don’t spin the tires.”
Jameson was quietly focused, he said little throughout the warm up laps other than asking where his pit was and who he had to go around.
“Coming to the green here,” Aiden announced. “Keep coming, keep coming...green flag, green flag.”
The cars roared past down the front stretch.
The downside to watching from the pit box was that you could only see what was in front of you and to the sides but on the backstretch; you couldn’t see anything unless the broadcasting station was following them at that moment. Most pit stands were equipped with televisions for this purpose allowing them to see what they couldn’t ordinarily.
“Inside two...inside one...clear high...ten cars at your door, middle two...middle one...clear low...ten car high.” Aiden guided him through the heavy traffic.
Everyone bunched up in the front fighting for position.
Jameson managed to stay in the top five when the caution came out for a wreck in turn three. “Cautions out, cautions out—clear high,” Aiden told him. “You’re gonna have a few cars coming around on the inside, watch low.”
“Who’s it for?” Jameson asked the radio crackling.
“A shit load of cars. Watch low in four...there’s an...engine lying out there on the front stretch,”
“No shit?” Jameson chuckled.
“Yep,”
“Aiden, can you see my right rear? It feels flat or maybe dragging. I’m not sure. I think I got into Tate a little on a restart.”
“Uh...where are you?” Aiden asked with slight panic.
“What?” Jameson sounded confused. “Are you serious?”
“Where are you?” Aiden’s tone continued down the path of panic. “Are you on the backstretch?”
“Well yeah...”
“Oh, I see you now.”
“Well that’s comforting that my spotter just lost me on the track.” Jameson mocked. “How many times does this happen in a race?”
“So what do you think bud, how’s the car?” Kyle asked interrupting them.
“It’s tight coming out of the turns but it’s not terrible.” Jameson told him. “Check the right rear though since Aiden can’t.”
“It was one time, geez.” Aiden let out this apprehensive chuckle as though he knew Jameson was less than amused his spotter lost him on the track.
“Okay boys, pit lanes open—coming next time by. Let’s do four tires, fuel, and a spring adjustment,” Kyle advised the crew. “Keep coming, keep coming, watch your speed...here you go...three...two...one. Wheels straight, foot on the break,”
Jameson swung into his pit stall. I could see him in the car, handing the crew his water bottle and taking the replacement, flipping the visor up to rub his eyes.
“STOP!” Kyle jumped to his feet yelling as Jameson went to pull out of his pit just as Darrin pulled into his pit stall in front of Jameson’s. “Get him out of the way!” Kyle yelled to the crew.
The crew was screaming at Darrin’s crew to push the car forward but Jameson was losing positions fast.
Spencer was beating on the back of Darrin’s car trying to get the crew to move but they were busy performing their stop.
“C’mon! Tell him to get the fuck out of the way!” Jameson revved the engine steadily throwing his arms up. “Let’s go! Move!”
If there hadn’t been crew members in the way, I was sure he would have just rammed into the back of him.
After about thirteen seconds, Darrin pulled out but Jameson was now twenty-sixth.
This also put the two of them right beside each other on the restart.
“Jameson,” Kyle warned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Jameson didn’t respond.
Here’s the thing about Jameson’s anger, there was no controlling it or p
reventing it. You just had to wait out the storm under cover. And knowing how he’ll react is about as easy as predicting the path a tornado would take.
“You’re going to be in some heavy traffic back there.” Aiden advised. “Coming to the green next time by,”
When the cars passed by on the front stretch, Jameson was all over the back of Darrin’s car and silent on the radio.
“I’m serious Jameson,” The warning in Kyle’s tone was clear. “stay calm.”
Again, Jameson was silent and I knew what was about to happen, as did Kyle.
“All right, you’re coming to the green here. Watch yourself. You got the fourteen on the inside.” Aiden said. “Here we go...watch your outside. Harris has a run. Green flag,”
Jameson was on the outside of Darrin when the green flag was thrown; by the time they entered turn one he dropped in behind him but stayed right on his bumper. They stayed like that for a few laps when Jameson got a run on the backstretch with Paul behind him and went to the outside to pass Darrin.
Darrin saw him coming and blocked him right before turn three. There was so much chatter between Aiden and Kyle you couldn’t tell what was happening under your heard it.
Emma and I were watching on the monitor as Darrin pushed Jameson up the track in the wall, hard.
“In the wall, turn three, damage right side. Flat left rear and right rear.”
“Bring it in,” Kyle said. “All right guys, he’s coming in. Four tires...front splitter. Fix the damage on the left front and get him out. Anything you can’t do in twelve seconds we’ll get next time by.”
“Watch your speed...three...two...one.” Kyle remained quiet while he watched the crew.
“Get the hammer out, pull that left front, Shane. Josh, grab the front splitter.” Mason fired orders at the crew while the worked. “Spencer, pull the left rear out while you’re there.”
“Come on, let’s go, let’s go!” Jameson yelled revving the engine, slamming his fists repeatedly on the wheel for the second time today. “What the fuck are you waiting for? LET’S GO!”
Spencer yanked the jack out waving to Kyle.
“Go, go, go! Clear all lanes.” Kyle shouted when they let the car down.
Emma was practically sitting on my lap now as we held each other tightly, talk about excitement.
Jameson made it out before the pace car came back around, staying on the lead lap. When the green flag flew at lap one twenty five, he was in thirty-eight with seventy-five to go.
Where was Darrin?
Third.
This had disaster written all over it. Jameson was the type of guy that didn’t forget and Darrin was about to see that side of him.
“This guy is such an asshole!” Emma screamed in my ear. You could barely hear anything over the noise from the cars. “Why doesn’t NASCAR do something?”
“I know,” I agreed. “Is he always like this?”
“No, well yes, every week it gets worse. He seems to be on a mission this weekend though.”
“What’s his problem? I mean, I know it has something to do with Mariah but how is Chelsea involved.”
“Darrin thinks Jameson slept with Mariah...” My eyes widened, Emma held up her hands defensively. “He didn’t, that I know of. He swears he didn’t and I believe him. Anyhow, after the race in Daytona, Darrin confronted Jameson about it. Of course, Jameson denied it and told Darrin to basically fuck off and called Mariah a whore. From then on, Darrin has had it out for him. Even back in USAC they had rivalry but this is out of control. I’m not sure how Chelsea got involved but she is somehow. She is supposedly dating Tate but I’ve never actually seen them together. It just didn’t make sense how a guy like Tate Harris, would date Chelsea Adams. Besides, not that this really makes a difference but he’s like thirty-four and she’s twenty-two.”
I listened to everything Emma had to say wondering what they were up to with Jameson and how Tate, who gave Jameson his start, was involved.
I’ve met Tate on many occasions and I never once got the feeling he was the kind of guy who would back stab Jameson, he was a nice guy.
Tate raced on the Outlaw Series with Jimi before he made his start in stock cars, so the fact that he knew Jimi just made it all seem that much more impossible.
Not only that, but Tate Harris was the one that helped Jameson get the sponsorship from Simplex after he won the Chili Bowl. Knowing that, it just didn’t seem likely for him to be with someone like Chelsea.
Throughout the remainder of the race, I thought of ways to figure out Chelsea and Mariah but I kept my eye on what was unfolding on the track.
By lap one seventy-two, Jameson was in thirteenth and moving through the field steadily. He was running lap times that would break the track record.
The caution came out with twelve laps to go and that single minded-athlete returned.
“Any changes, bud?” Kyle asked as the cars slowed down the front stretch as the yellow flag was displayed.
I watched as Jameson’s black car fell into line behind Darrin.
“I’m not pitting.” Jameson stated resolutely.
Rolling my eyes with a shake of my head, I knew damn well what was about to happen.
“You need tires.” Kyle argued throwing a hand up. “You’ve been on the same ones for over sixty laps. Just bring it in.”
“Not pitting.”
Kyle ripped off his head set and threw it across the pit box. “Oh Goddamn him!”
There was no convincing Jameson to do something when he made up his mind but it didn’t stop Aiden from trying as well. “I think you should get tires, Jameson. The top five cars are coming in, so should you.”
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it, Aiden.” Jameson spat.
Aiden didn’t say another word and sure enough, everyone pitted leaving Jameson by himself out there on used tires and a questionable amount of fuel.
When they lined up to take the green, it was Jameson, Bobby, Darrin, and then Paul.
I wanted to say something to him but I also knew it wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t listen to me any more than he would listen to Kyle.
“Coming to the green here—watch your shift—Darrin has a run. Green flag, green flag,” Aiden announced. “Cole’s at your door, clear, fourteen has a run on the inside, at your rear...still there...still there, at your door...clear.” Jameson darted in behind Darrin leaving him in third in front Paul in the twenty-four car.
He was all over the back of Darrin once again with eight laps to go and wasn’t losing ground like we expected him to.
“I don’t know how the fuck he’s even keeping that damn car straight. He’s riding on cords out there.” Kyle told Mason, they both shook their heads.
He’d done this sort of thing before and we all knew what he was up to. It was obvious by the way they were bumping each other around the track, this wouldn’t end well.
ESPN was all over the coverage so we were able to see what was happening. Darrin and Jameson were tearing the two cars up and allowing Bobby to pull away to a two-second lead.
“Jameson, cut the shit and just drive the fucking car.” Kyle yelled at him. “You’re going—”
“Don’t tell me to cut the shit when any run that I get on this asshole, he blocks me.” Jameson snapped. “I’m just finishing what he started.”
Jameson went high when Darrin was low so Darrin shot up the track in front of him.
Jameson never lifted.
He slammed into the back of Darrin on the second stretch coming out of turn two. Darrin fishtailed for a moment and then shot up the track into the outside barrier, his car spinning down onto the apron. Once it hit the grass outside the tunnel turn, the car flipped four times before it came to a rest in the infield.
His car was destroyed. Parts and sheet metal scattered from the turn across the infield and up the banking of the track. All that remained of his blue car was a roll cage and the engine.
Not a word was said on the radio by anyone
except Aiden telling Jameson they had red flagged the race.
“They’re stopping you guys outside turn two.”
Darrin seemed fine. He got out of the car, stumbled slightly, rode to the infield car center where he was required to be evaluated, and then he was supposed to go to the NASCAR hauler.
The NASCAR Official in Jameson’s pit motioned for Kyle to come down off the pit box. He did and when he returned he wasn’t pleased.
“Bring it in, they’re black flagging you.” Kyle announced. “Take the car to the truck and then head to the NASCAR hauler.”
“10-4,” was all Jameson said.
He knew damn well what would happen if he wrecked Darrin intentionally but I was also inclined to think he just didn’t give a shit right now.
In the drivers meeting earlier today, they announced they wouldn’t put up with retaliation of any kind. That was never something NASCAR condoned. Just as any sanctioning body, they were there to enforce the rules and that they did.
Though I understood the position NASCAR held in all this, I couldn’t understand why Darrin wasn’t penalized for the shit he pulled when he put Jameson in the wall in the beginning of the race.
He should have at least had a stop and go penalty.
The crew started loading tools and equipment while Emma and I headed towards the hauler.
Jameson wasn’t there yet so we helped Alley field the media that was hovering by his hauler.
When the car pulled in, spewing steam and fluids, Jameson had already removed his helmet, gloves, and was working his belts as he shut the car off.
He was irate to say the least—not that I expected anything less of him. Like I said, I’ve seen this before over the years.
Sure enough, a news reporter was in face before he even made it out of the car. “Jameson, can you tell us what happened out there? Did you mean to hit Darrin?”
Jameson was already walking towards the NASCAR hauler with the report tagging along.
Alley motioned for us to follow; we had to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.
“Can you tell us what happened?” the reporter repeated shoving the microphone at him, fighting to keep up with his quick steps.