Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge)

by Shey Stahl

  “Shut up Jameson,” she reached forward to punch his shoulder. “now get in the car. You’re going to be late.”

  He laughed sarcastically. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  An hour later, Emma and I sat there crammed in the corner of the kitchen at Sorrento’s in downtown Olympia, watching Jameson and Dana.

  Every time Dana tried to touch him in some way, Emma giggled hysterically as though this was a comedy club.

  I did not. I wanted to run out there and rip her hair out.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked adjusting my position on the floor. My ass was starting to fall asleep.

  “You have no idea.” Emma grinned evilly stuffing another bread stick in her mouth. The guys working in the kitchen were kind enough to let us sit back here for one, but they also kept handing us food. I didn’t have the heart to tell them we were like dogs, if you fed us, we might never leave.

  “He’s going to kill you.” I told Emma with a mouth full of food. “Just so you know.”

  “I don’t care.” She laughed. “This is a hoot.”

  Dana once again reached for his hand over the table. Jameson jerked it back quickly and glanced around the restaurant, probably looking for us. I felt bad for him; there he was sitting across from her gazing unabashedly at him.

  His discomfort was noticeable with the way his knee was bouncing uncontrollably and he was fidgeting. All signs were pointing towards an angry Jameson. Another give away was that he’d barely touched his food.

  He hadn’t spoken much; she seemed to be doing most of the talking. I did notice his mouth moving a few times though, so assumed he was answering her questions.

  “Does she talk a lot?”

  “You have no idea.” She smiled. “That’s what makes this so entertaining. How much you want to bet she wore his underwear tonight?”

  I shook my head in disbelieve. “He really is going to kill you.”

  Emma reached for her phone and sent someone a text.

  “Who are you texting?” I asked adjusting my position again.

  “Spencer,” she answered. “He thinks this is hilarious.”

  “I bet he does.”

  “Where’s he going?” Emma asked looking up as Jameson walked past.

  “Maybe he’s going to the bathroom...” I guessed and snuck over to the door to see. “Stay here, I’m going to make sure he’s not running away.”

  If he was running, I’d probably run with him at that point.

  I followed him as he walked into the men’s bathroom.

  Jameson jumped, taking a sharp intake of breath when I hopped on the counter behind him, watching him pee.

  “Thank god.” He breathed in relief. “I thought you were Dana.”

  “Nope, just a jealous girlfriend,”

  Jameson turned around to wash his hands. “What the fuck would you have to be jealous of?” he asked incredulously reaching for the paper towels. “Have you not seen that out there? She fucking crazy, certifiable insane,”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” he seethed stepping between my legs, pulling my hips to the edge of the counter. “In the last thirty minutes she has told me her entire life story. We went to high school together and I smiled at her once in the halls. That she has a life size poster of me above her bed that she does god knows what to every night.” He shivered once. “She told me that she has five pairs of my underwear, one of which she’s wearing, right now and she named her dog after me,” his face went pale. “Sway, she knows some really strange things about me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Did you know that my favorite pizza in peperoni and pineapple?”

  “Is it?”

  “Apparently it is; she read it in a magazine so it must be true.” He rolled his eyes. “How much more time do I have to spend out there?” Jameson brought his lips to mine once. “I can’t take much more of this shit. She actually asked me if it was true that I have a huge dick.”

  “No,” I giggled snorted. “She didn’t?”

  “YES!” he shouted.

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her it was none of her fucking business.” His eyes got a strange look to them. “She asked if she could have a picture of it.”

  I laughed hysterically to the point that Jameson was holding me up so I didn’t fall.

  “You’re worse than stabberally!” he snapped pushing my shoulder. “Stop laughing, right now.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” I told him trying to breath and kissing him once more to keep my smile at bay. “Has she told you anything?”

  “No, this is pointless.” His head slumped forward. “I asked but she said we’ll get to that. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.” I jumped down with a renowned sense of security. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  “Fucking right you’re making this up to me.” He smacked my ass. “And not just tonight...you and stabberally owe me, big time.”

  Jameson left first and after a couple minutes, I made my way back to the kitchen.

  The next thirty minutes were spent with Dana slowly moving closer and closer to him. Jameson drinking an insane amount of water so he could sneak away to the bathroom every five minutes, and Emma paying a waiter to keep offering wine to Dana, the most expensive wine, since Jameson was paying.

  “He really is going to kill you for this.” I pointed out.

  “I don’t care.” She shrugged carelessly. “It’s entertaining. Spencer and I have a bet going for how long it takes for her to try and kiss him.”

  I rolled my eyes yet again. “Now I know why he wishes he was an only child.”

  We really hadn’t been paying attention in the last twenty minutes when all of a sudden we heard glass breaking and then Jameson’s voice raise.

  “Get off me!”

  We turned immediately to see Dana on top of the table with her arms around his neck, tightly, holding on for all she was worth.

  “Just one kiss, please?” she begged. “Just one,”

  “No. I mean it, get off me or I call the cops right now.” Jameson reached for his cell phone in his jeans. “Let go, Dana.” He pushed her away, holding his phone in the air as a warning. “Stay away.”

  Breathing heavy for a moment, she then lunged for him again.

  Jameson was quicker this time and ran at the exact moment she lunged for him, barreling through the kitchen doors.

  “No fucking way I’m going back out there. I’m leaving.” I could tell by the grim, set look on his face, this was not up for negotiation.

  The date is over.

  Emma’s phone beeped while they argued. “Oh,” she said looking at the text. “It’s Dana.” We all turned and watched as Dana walked out of the restaurant. “She said that Darrin wants to end your career. He will stop at nothing until he’s taken everything you have.”

  A silence spread over us, even the cook beside us said nothing.

  “Ask her why Jameson?” I ordered pointing to the phone. I was not accepting that as an answer. “Why is he so focused on Jameson? What about the other drivers?”

  The cook offered Jameson some bread dipped in garlic oil, which he took and scarfed down like Mr. Jangles eating spaghetti. Apparently, his appetite had returned.

  Emma typed away as we waited for some type of response.

  Jameson, after eating his bread, stood beside me wiping his neck off from where Dana touched him.

  Apparently, that wasn’t enough for him so he grabbed my purse and dug out my hand sanitizer. After examining the label for a brief moment, he dumped the entire bottle in his hands, rubbing it all over his neck and face.

  Curiously, I watched him both amused and then concerned at how much he used.

  That couldn’t be good for his skin. I may not have mentioned this before but Jameson had some obsessive-compulsive tendencies when it came to anything touching his skin. He once took a bath in al
cohol when he thought he had a rash. Yeah, he’s weird.

  Emma’s phone beeped again, silence spread again. “You’re the only competition for him and he doesn’t deal well with that.”

  “I don’t take well to be threatened.” Jameson barked walking towards the door after Dana got in her car. “I’m tired of this bullshit.”

  I don’t know if it was the fear of Jameson being hurt or all the smelly Italian food, but the bread sticks Emma and I had been eating came back up once we reached the parking lot.

  Jameson gave me a contemplative scowl once we were in the car. “I want you to stay out of this. I mean it Sway, just stay out of it.”

  Could I do that for him? No, probably not.

  I wanted to stay out of it but with anything related to Jameson, I couldn’t just stay out of it.

  17. Dirty Air – Jameson

  Dirty Air – The rear wing of the car in front tends to push the air higher, creating a very turbulent low-pressure area directly behind the car. At high speeds, down-force can be disrupted if you follow another car too closely. A car following closely will suffer understeer as a result of being in this “dirty air”.

  I watched my reason for breathing lying there in bed sound asleep.

  Thoughts of her, thoughts of our life together flooded my senses, overwhelmed by the love I now had for this one woman, the only woman.

  She was beautiful, stunningly so with her cheeks flushed, her lips pushed out into a pout. Other than her cheeks being flushed, she looked rather pale.

  I was starting to become concerned by her appearance, and the throwing up. Since Saturday night, she’d thrown up every day. At first, I thought maybe she had Lane’s flu, or food poising from those mystery corndogs they served at the track but things weren’t adding up.

  Sway looked different, her face was glowing, and her funbags, as she called them, were huge. She was cranky and extra bitchy towards the Lucifer twins—not that I disagreed with that part.

  Sway stirred beside, wrapping my arms around her waist, I slide her snug against my chest. Gently I reached up and pushed a few stray strands of her hair out of her face, then kissed her forehead.

  I hated mornings like this, the ones were I would be forced to leave her in a few hours instead of staying in bed with her all day. This was the main reason why I avoided a real relationship with her for so long. She deserved someone who could be there when she needed him. But then again, I was too selfish at that point to let her go.

  I continued to pepper her face, shoulders, arms, anywhere I could reach with slow ardent kisses. In a way, it was as though I attempting to show her enough love to last her until I returned.

  Sway’s eyes flickered open with a smile. The curtains danced from the warm summer breeze swirling through her room.

  There was nothing between us but the morning air when I covered her body with my own.

  Sway smiled when my lips touched hers, the always-present electrical current between us humming with the rhythm of our movements.

  Reaching below the sheets pooled around my waist, I moved between her legs. It was such an overpowering feeling I got the instant I entered her body, every muscle, every nerve ending tensed in anticipation.

  Her sparkly green eyes met mine. “Good morning,” Sway mumbled against my lips.

  “Good morning, honey.”

  And it was a good morning, because for now, we were here together. I could forget all about my commitments. I could forget all about having to leave later today. Instead, I focused on Sway.

  “I love you.” I whispered against her shoulder.

  The sun continued to rise, casting a warm glow throughout her bedroom. I looked over at the clock knowing my time here was ending soon. I needed to meet Wes at the Olympia airport in a few hours.

  “I need to get up.” I groaned running my hands through my hair, I propped myself up on my elbow to look down at her. “I have to be in Sarver Pennsylvania tonight.”

  “Where do you have to go next?” Sway asked rolling over in my arms to look at me.

  “I have a busy two weeks.” I tried to think back to my scheduled. “I fly to Sarver today, then to Indy on Thursday. On Monday next week, I have to be in Orlando for a commercial. Then I fly to Pocono again. After that I think I have a few days free before I need to be in Watkins Glen.” I touched her face gently. “After Bristol, I have a two week break. Maybe we can sneak away for a few days together, you and me.” I grinned.

  A smile flickered across Sway’s lips. “That would be nice.”

  Running my fingertips over her warm flushed cheeks, I thought about how sick she’d been. “How are you feeling?”

  “Uh...okay, I guess. I’m actually hungry.” She sat up in bed, pulling on my t-shirt from last night. You could smell bacon being cooked in the kitchen downstairs. “Let’s eat before you leave. Andrea cooks a bitchin’ breakfast.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kissing her once more, I made my way to the bathroom for a quick shower as she headed downstairs.

  Once dressed and my bag was packed, I joined her at the kitchen table. Emma was up now, sitting beside Sway, eating. I pushed her off the stool when I walked past, stealing her bacon as I did so.

  “You’re such an asshole!” Emma snapped, picking herself up.

  My eyebrow arched in response, challenging her. “Really...” I laughed. “I’m the asshole? Do you not remember anything from last night?”

  That shut her up.

  Fixing a plate of food, I took notice in how much Sway was eating. Her plate was piled with food and she seemed to be holding it down, which was a good thing.

  “I think you have a tape worm or something.” I took a seat next to her. “Where does all that food go?”

  “In the toilet,” Emma laughed. “it’s not like she’ll hold it down.”

  Sway’s nose scrunched at Emma but continued to scarf down her bacon and eggs. Sure enough, ten minutes after she was finished she ran to the bathroom. I was about to go after her when she slammed the door shut.

  “Will you stay here this week?” I asked Emma, setting my plate in the sink. “I’m worried about her.” Leaning against the counter, Logan came strolling in exchanging a glare with me.

  Emma gave me a strange look while Andrea smiled at me. “Yeah, I’ll stay with her.” She held out her hand. “Can I have your credit card?”

  “What would make you think I would ever hand you my credit card?”

  “For payment,” she set her plate in the sink. “If I’m staying here, you should reward me.”

  “You’re reward will be me not going home and burning all your favorite clothes for the shit you’ve put me through.” I responded patting her before making my way down the hall to check on Sway.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly opening the door. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Sway slumped against the wall beside the toilet.

  “Yeah, I think maybe I have the flu.” She fumbled with the hem her shirt to avoid looking at me directly.

  “Hmm...I guess Lane had it.” I felt her forehead. “Maybe you caught it from him somehow.”

  I really didn’t think it was the flu. I had a feeling it was something else but didn’t say anything. Seeing those very same symptoms in Alley, all the signs were pointing to her being pregnant.

  When Alley was pregnant with Lane we were all still traveling around together in my truck, which made for some interesting trips.

  There were times when I was moments away from volunteering to ride on the roof rather than sit next to a hormonal Alley for sixteen hours in a day.

  I didn’t want to freak Sway out, so instead I smiled reassuringly at her. “Maybe you should...go to the doctor.” I suggested pulling her up into my arms. “Just to make sure you don’t have something else.”

  “Yeah, I think I will this week.”

  The thought that she might be pregnant, with my child, had me glowing as much as her. I wasn’t ready for kids but if they happened, they happened. I knew Sway was on
birth control pills, I saw them the morning after we first slept together. That right there made this even more confusing to me. If she was on the pills, there was no way she could be pregnant?

  Maybe she does just have the flu.

  Ughh...my cell phone beeped twice, reminding me of the real world waiting for me.

  “I have to go.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll call you went I get to Sarver.”

  With a few more lingering kisses, after she brushed her teeth, I headed for Olympia to begin my busy two weeks, without Sway.

  As with any time away, my focus then was solely on racing.

  “The car is shaking real bad. My shifter is vibrating like a son of a bitch. I wanted to see if it was all of us?” I asked Cole around lap two twenty of the Brickyard 400.

  This week had flown by with my numerous commitments and now here I was, on race day, trying to piece together an ill handling race car. It could have been worse. The last two races the engine had blown way before lap two hundred, so I guess in all actuality, we were doing good if you considered running eighteenth good.

  “It’s all of us.” Cole finally answered. “I can barely get the car in fourth without slippin’ off the shifter.”

  I used to love Indy but lately, it only served back memories.

  Last year, I raced in the Busch Series and pegged the wall in turn three, nearly sending me to the hospital with a concussion. The year before that, I raced here in a USAC midget and flipped it seven times on the backstretch.

  This track hated me.

  There was still a chunk missing from the outside barrier where my car landed upside down on it during that USAC race.

  Somewhere around lap three hundred, we were doing better, until the caution came out.

  Kyle came over the radio after the pit stop. “Too fast entering, come back in bud.”

  “What?” I slammed my fists down on the wheel. “You have to be shitting me? I came in on fifty six like I have all goddamn race.”

  “I know,” Kyle replied. “Harris and Cole are being held too,”

  “It’s bullshit!” I yelled back heading back to pit lane for my stop and go penalty.