Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge)

by Shey Stahl

  Emma moved closer to Jameson but he backed away. “Jameson, I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry. I thought you were Carol Anne.”

  “Who the hell is Carol Anne?” He snarled still not letting any of us close to him. He reminded me of an injured animal who wanted nothing to do with humans. I wondered, though briefly, if he’d crawl off to die alone.

  “From Poltergeist,” said Emma with a careless but still timid shrug.

  “That’s a fucking movie...it’s make believe you shit head!” Jameson snapped. “I swear to god Emma, if I can’t race...I’m stabbing you.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” was Emma’s reply.

  “No one is doing any more stabbing.” I yelled breaking up their silly fight and needing to collect my thoughts. I couldn’t focus with all this yelling and accusing. “Let’s go Jameson. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No, no, no...you’re not leaving me here alone with them.” Emma objected pointing at the Lucifer twins while they tormented Jameson.

  “Fine,” I groaned. “All of you get in the car.”

  “No,” Jameson interjected immediately. Just the very thought had made his face pale, or so I thought. “I’m not going anywhere with stabberally over there...fuck no.” he shook his head violently. “No fucking way.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” Emma smacked Jameson on the shoulder, the bad shoulder. “I didn’t mean to stab you!”

  “SON OF A BITCH!” Jameson screamed dropping to the floor. “Get the fuck away from me, Emma! I will pull this out right now and stab you with it if you touch me again.”

  “Why are you being so mean to me?” she asked getting in his face again. “I said I didn’t do in intentionally.”

  Jameson stepped forward as though he was actually going to take revenge on his little sister.

  “Enough!” Stepping between them, I motioned for everyone to get out of the house. “We are all going to the hospital. Now get in the car, right now.”

  At that point, I’m assuming I looked a little like the Exorcist or something similar because no one questioned me again and piled in my Charlie’s Expedition to begin our journey to Grays Harbor Community Hospital.

  Jameson whined the entire way about how bad it hurt as the kids, including Emma, egged him on. I wanted to warm him this was probably the best part of it, just imagine how he’s going to feel sitting at Grays Harbor Community Hospital for hours waiting for them to pull their heads out of their ass long enough to help us, but I didn’t.

  One bad situation at a time.

  Around three in the morning, we finally arrived at the hospital and the Lucifer twins were out cold in the back seat, along with Emma, so we left them in the car.

  Jameson was pleased.

  He insisted I go inside with him, so I did. He insisted I stay right beside him because he was convinced he was going to be attacked somehow, so I did. He insisted I go back with him when the triage nurse was looking over him, so I did. But when he insisted that I go to the vending machines to get him skittles, I drew the line. Not that I wouldn’t get him skittles but he was being a huge baby about this entire situation. It was just a fork. If it was a knife, I may be a little more sympathetic, maybe.

  Jameson sat there complaining about Emma stabbing him, the kid next to him sneezing on him, and the avid NASCAR fan that grabbed every brochure from around the hospital and had him sign it.

  “How long does it take to get seen?” Jameson grumbled as he adjusted himself in the chair next to me again. “This is just unacceptable. We have been here for three hours. My god, I’ve been stabbed, how is that not an emergency?”

  “Try four. It’s Grays Harbor Community Hospital, what did you expect?”

  “I don’t know...” he laid his head on my shoulder. “It hurts.”

  “You’re such a baby.” It might have been rude but I went ahead and said it anyways. “It’s a fork, not a knife.”

  “Let me stab you with a fork and then we’ll see how much a baby you are.” He retorted glaring and then his expression softened as that familiar smirk appeared. “You know...I’ve always wanted to do it on an exam table.” He told me waggling his eyebrows at me. “Wanna be my naughty nurse?”

  “No.” I stated firmly even though this image was already present. “We are not doing it in here. How does your mood change so fast? I think you may be bi-polar or something.”

  He grinned wider as an attempt to soften me.

  I was not softening. “No,” I shook my head at him trying not to reveal my own smirk.

  The avid NASCAR fan returned with yet another brochure for him and Jameson snapped. “Dude, come on. Seriously? You can’t see that I’m injured and signing autographs is slightly difficult?” He motioned with his head towards the fork still sticking out of his shoulder.

  The man shrugged handing Jameson the brochure.

  He reminded me of a taller version of Jack Black only he was not funny. If anything, he was annoying. I mean really, did he honestly think this was an appropriate time to be asking for an autograph?

  “Jameson Riley?” a nurse called out, a folder tucked under her arm.

  The man walked away when Jameson pushed the brochure back at him and said, “Go away.”

  All things considering, I couldn’t blame him for denying the autograph.

  “See, we can’t do it, they’re calling your name.” I smiled and kissed his cheek.

  Helping him up, we walked behind the counter to the nurse who smiled at Jameson. “Hello, I’m Debbie Sloan, your nurse.” She reached out and touched his forearm. “So what are you here for?” Debbie asked once we got inside the room adjusting her stethoscope around her neck and clicking her pen.

  “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Jameson asked not amused.

  Debbie giggled clicking obsessively. “Yes, sweetie—I’m kidding.” She opened his chart. “So let’s see, you’re Jameson Riley...wait,” comprehension quickly followed. “as in the race car driver?”

  Jameson, who had been staring at the exam table, imagining god knows what, met mine eyes for a moment and then went back to Debbie. I could tell just by that quick glance, he was a little apprehensive about answering.

  Shifting in the chair, he answered with a nervous chuckle. “Um...yeah, I’m him.”

  “Oh, wow. How exciting! My daughter would kill me if she knew we were treating Jameson Riley.” Debbie reached for her notepad. “Can you sign this for her?”

  Poor guy, he could never escape this.

  I could tell he was irritated that he couldn’t even get treatment without people bothering him for an autograph.

  “Yeah, sure,” Jameson reached for the paper. “What’s her name?”

  “Dana, she’s obsessed with you. She’s been to like seven races this season.” Debbie giggled. “Now that I’ve seen you in person...I see the attraction.” She honestly appeared to be undressing him with her eyes.

  It wasn’t lost on Jameson, that’s for sure.

  He stood up backing against the door. “You...um...what’s your daughter look like?”

  Does he think he knows her?

  “Here,” Debbie shoved a picture forward.

  One glimpse at it, Jameson was out the door and running to the car muttering, “No fucking way...nope...not happening. Let’s go Sway—I’m not being molested at a damn hospital.”

  Running after him, I caught up with him about the time he reached the car. “Jameson...what about the fork?”

  He stopped suddenly, took a few deep breaths in preparation and then reached over and yanked it out. Then fell to the pavement, screaming in pain.

  Though blood was pouring from his shoulder, I completely lost it in a fit of inappropriate piss yourself laughter. I laughed because this headstrong cocky man, who could handle anything, couldn’t handle this obsessed fan or her nurse of a mother, so he resorted to extracting the fork himself.

  “Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” Lucas grumbled rolling down the window. “I
could have slept in my own bed, jerk.”

  Still giggling, Emma rolled down the other window just enough for her head to peek through. “What’s going on, are we leaving?”

  “Jameson’s afraid of the nurse so he pulled the fork out.” I motioned to Jameson who was still sprawled out on the pavement.

  He looked like he was about to vomit. In the injured animal manner again, his face his completely white, his brow furrowed together, scowling and his jaw clenched tightly as he curled into himself.

  “I wasn’t scared of the nurse...” he moaned loudly bringing himself to his feet. “That’s Dana’s mom!” he pointed towards the hospital. “No fucking way I’m letting her touch me.”

  Right about then was when Emma pointed towards him laughing hysterically, and the Lucifer twins just looked at us as if we’re all crazy.

  The entire ride back to my house Jameson sulked. Emma randomly started laughing every now and then, and the Lucifer twins continued to poke at Jameson’s shoulder, asking him repeatedly if it hurt when they touched it.

  He ignored them for a while but after twenty minutes, Jameson finally turned in his seat, glaring at them. “I don’t care if you’re six-years old. When this fucking car stops, I’m getting out and I will rip your tiny little arms off! Then what? Huh?”

  Neither said a word, just gaped back with wide panic-stricken eyes, as was I.

  I never thought anything would make those little shits speechless.

  Jameson sighed heavily having had the desired response from them and turned around to stare out the windshield.

  There wasn’t a sound the rest of the trip.

  When the car stopped in the driveway, the Lucifer twins ripped their seatbelts off and ran in different directions towards the house, followed by Emma. I was tempted to run with them but didn’t.

  Jameson and I remained inside the Expedition. After that tantrum, I wasn’t about to be the first to speak.

  Slowly, he tilted his head towards me. “Was that harsh?”

  “Yes...I’m terrified of you now.” I looked over at him for the first time since his temper tantrum. “So are they.”

  “Good...little fuckers.”

  “Oh...calm down. It’s not that bad.” I remembered his previous words to me when he first met the Lucifer twins. Surely, his perception of them had now changed.

  “Not that bad?” he asked incredulously. “You have to be fucking kidding me! First, my engine blows up ending the race for me after only fifty laps. Then I fly six hours just to see my girlfriend, in a fucking wind storm that puts hurricane Ike to shame...”

  I sighed dramatically.

  “Okay, well it’s not nearly that bad, but you get my point.” He waived his good arm around. “Then I come to rescue her like her knight and shining armor she wanted, and my fucking sister stabs me with a fork. Then, the nurse at the fucking hospital is Dana’s mom. Yes, that’s right Dana the stalker’s mom!” he threw his bottle of water across the inside of the truck. “I have a fucking right to be harsh.”

  It was now time for drastic measures.

  “If I show you my boobs, will you calm down?” I offered.

  He was silent for a good thirty seconds. “Maybe,” He motioned with his hand for me to lift my shirt. “Show me and let’s see.”

  Flipping up my sweatshirt, it worked as it always did.

  When Jameson started to drag me onto his lap, I had to stop things. “No, we are not doing it in my dad’s car and you’re bleeding.”

  He chuckled lightly but continued to molest the funbags. “So many rules now...no exam tables...no cars...what happened? You never had rules before.”

  “I don’t have rules...there are just some things I won’t do. One is not having sex in my dad’s car and two I’m not having sex while you have a fork stuck in your shoulder in a hospital.”

  “How about we continue this in your room?” Jameson suggested pushing his hips to meet my hand he’d placed directly on his camshaft. “I’m injured, I need care.”

  “We need to get a bandage on that.”

  My thoughts then swarmed to some good tender loving care I was sure I could provide him. Suddenly, I was nervous about the reveal of my crankcase’s wax and shine so I blurted out the first thing that I could come up with.

  “Are you sure you can get it up? I mean, you were stabbed with a fork.” My mouth, similar to my crankcase at times, was making all kinds of justifications as to why I couldn’t have sex with him when honestly; it just came down to my bling pad.

  How exactly do you reveal this?

  His eyebrows rose in question. “I was stabbed in the shoulder, not my dick, Sway.”

  “Prove it...I don’t think you can.” I challenged. “You could have a lifter problem now?”

  What the hell? What happened to your justification?

  “Are you questioning my ability here?”

  I tapped my finger to my lips. “Yes,”

  “That’s it!” he grabbed me by the ass swinging the door open. With no doubt a good amount of pain, he carried me all the way to my room, threw me down on the bed, and covered my body with his own.

  His hand under my chin forced me to look at him. “You’re in for a long day.

  15. Pit Stall – Sway

  Pit Stall – The area along pit road that is designated for a particular team’s use during pit stops. Each car stops in the teams stall before being serviced.

  Jameson was asleep on his stomach when I made my way out of my bedroom. We had a long night.

  It was now the 4th of July and we’d planned to go camping up in Dayton Peak. For good reason, the Lucifer twins would not be attending this fun filled event.

  Aiden flew in late last night, walking past the guest bedroom they were currently occupying; I plugged my ears just in case I inadvertently over heard something I didn’t care to hear.

  It could happen and has before.

  Spencer and Alley were going to come but Lane still wasn’t feeling well so they stayed home.

  Jameson was only in town until Tuesday afternoon and then he headed for Juliet Illinois for the race at Chicagoland Speedway. This only left us with two days after the stabbing occurred.

  He kept his promise yesterday too. I didn’t do anything but spread my legs. Though I’m not sure how, he never took notice in my pigizzle vajazzled bling pad while doing this. The Holy Grail had yet to be revealed. I was actually getting a little nervous for her unveiling to occur, similar to stage fright.

  What if he didn’t like it?

  I wasn’t sure how easily that shit came off and the thought of it being ripped off seemed like cruel punishment that I was not going to allow. But then again, I hoped eventually, it came off. How would I explain this at eighty-years old? Then I thought, at eighty, no one would have their head down there anyhow. So that dilemma had been solved.

  Making my way to the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face along with some of my favorite Banana Boat After Sun lotion. Just the smell brought me back to our first summer together on the road when sunburns were a daily occurrence. It was just another memory of mine that made all this feel real.

  Grabbing some pop tarts from the kitchen, I scurried back to my room before anyone saw me. I really didn’t want to see the Lucifer twins any time soon. They still tormented the fuck out of me but ever since Jameson threatened to rip their arms off, they steered clear of him. I contemplated threatening them as well but I knew they wouldn’t take me seriously.

  Jameson had yet to wake up when I made it back to the bedroom with two cups of coffee and blueberry pop tarts. I kept myself busy while he slept off his pain medication I gave him last night when he complained his shoulder was killing him. The one thing I needed to do today was pack for camping and cut down that tree. I must have woken up four times last night, envisioning that tree tapping on my damn window.

  It had to go, that’s all there was to it.

  I could hear footsteps behind me and saw Jameson making his way over to me, na
ked. My eyes focused on his glorious camshaft as he approached me, watching it and then feeling like a complete pervert for doing so.

  Jameson of course chuckled softly wrapping his arms around me. “See something you like?”

  “No...” I lied.

  “You’re a horrible liar.” He dove in, kissing along my collarbone and up my neck, along my jaw until his lips met mine.

  I kissed him back until the wind blew once more, the tree scratching against my window.

  “How are you with a chain saw, sport?” I asked pulling back to look at him.

  “Please...” he said dismissively rolling his eyes. “I can run anything with an engine.” His hand came down to my crankcase suggestively.

  My eyes remained on his, pointing to the Poltergeist tree outside my room, I said. “Cut that motherfucker down!”

  He laughed. “You want me to cut down a tree?”

  “Yes lumberjack,” I mocked. “I want you to cut down a tree.”

  “What did the tree ever do to you?” he looked towards the tree and then back to me with a touch of curiosity. “And how will I rescue you like your knight and shining armor, without the tree.”

  “Is that why you were so muddy?”

  His eyes dropped. “Yeah, I fell.”

  Giggling hysterically was my reaction. Similar to when he yanked the fork out. It was adorable that he tried but also incredibly funny to me.

  He growled and then picked me up, throwing me against my mattress. “What did I say about this giggling?” His body pressed against mine, trapping me.

  “Not to,” I squeaked out between giggles, arms and legs flailing to get loose.

  “Exactly,” he sat up straddling my hips, his hands pinned mine securely ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Stuck underneath him trying to wiggle free, he only squeezed tighter just as a python would, crushing his prey.

  “Now what are you going to do?” Jameson asked in a husky voice. I could tell this little wrestling match was turning him on.

  Struggling was pointless; Jameson had nearly a hundred pounds on me. “I’m not going to giggle anymore.” Another small giggle escaped my lips before I slapped my hand to my face.