Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (22 page)

BOOK: Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge)
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We didn’t but I was tired of my parents funding everything. I didn’t feel the need to tell her that half the time we were sleeping in the truck but she’d probably have a heart attack if she knew that. I glared in Spencer’s direction when he told them we stayed in the truck a few nights to save money to buy a new set of tires.

Feeling full and having Sway next to me, I felt comfortable and sated. In the booth we were in, she was right against my side, our bodies touching. Feeling every intake of breath she took. My arm was thrown around her pulling her even closer. Every so often I would lean down and whisper something in her ear, usually making fun of Spencer or Emma. She would giggle.

This went on for probably an hour, chatting with my parents and keeping Sway close to me before a few girls that didn’t look much older than me approached our table holding a picture of Jimi.

“Hey Jimi,” a tall blonde said to my dad as she placed her hand softly on his shoulder.

His head whipped around to find the girl leaning against his chair. My mom, always the optimist, smiled at the girls. I’d seen those looks before. They wanted more than talking.

“Hey girls, what can I do for you?” he asked shaking their hands when they held them out for him and introduced themselves.

“Well I’m Cassie and this is my friend Alyssa.” Cassie smiled again at dad. I admit that she was pretty but not something I would ever look at twice. “We were wondering if we could get an autograph from you
...
and your son Jameson.
Maybe a picture too?”

This surprised me for two reasons. They had yet to look my direction and they knew who I was.

Clearing my throat, I nodded when Cassie arched an eyebrow at me.

I felt Sway’s body tense when I untangled myself from her to stand.

Dad and I took a few pictures with the girls and in the end; they stuffed their numbers in our back pockets before disappearing toward the bar.

Dad reached into his pocket and threw the number on the table.

“They were bold.” He said tucking mom into his side and kissing her forehead.

I knew this wasn’t the first time this happened to him. Jim Riley was the king of sprint car racing. Not only was he a king of spring car racing but with piercing blue eyes and black messy hair, he had looks going for him, so I’ve been told. My mom never paid a mind to it though. She always smiled and looked the other way as if it wasn’t happening. Don’t get me wrong. He had never once acted on the advances that I knew about and I doubted he ever would. Mom was it for him. I watched for years the way his eyes light up each time he saw her and the way she grinned like a schoolgirl every time he whispered in her ear. After twenty-two years of marriage, they were still madly in love. Seeing that type of devoted love made me hope one day I’d find that but I also knew my love for racing overstepped that.

I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking to make a name for myself that didn’t include being Jimi Riley’s kid.

 

 

When I started the summer my dad provided us with five sprint cars and deposited money in our accounts but we still had to work within a budget. Racing is not cheap.

Cars were upward of forty grand each and when shit breaks, it’s expensive.

Knock off a wing like I did in Williams
Grove, that
was $600. Front shock in Terre Haute was $900. An engine after the race at River Cities Speedway was $10,000. A broken left front axle at Columbus was $200. And a driveline after Eldora was $1500. I kept waiting for the priceless part like the commercials but it never came.

 As you can see, racing couldn’t be done without sponsorship. For me, sponsorship didn’t even cover all that shit.

By the time August rolled around that summer, it was apparent a change needed to occur. Either that or I was done racing sprint cars and needed to find a job to support my racing hobby. I couldn’t rely on my dad’s financial support forever and I didn’t want to. I hated that he was even paying for as much as he did.

I was still racing in the USAC divisions for Bowman Oil and Bucky but that wasn’t enough. To get to where I wanted to be, I needed as much experience as I could get.

Funny thing was I didn’t know where I was heading. I knew I wanted to compete for the Triple Crown this year but next year, I hadn’t given much thought to it.

Again, I just wanted to race.

Open wheel guys usually go one of three ways.
Indy, IRL, or NASCAR.

Being an open wheel guy, Indy appealed to me but I was curious about those stock cars. I liked racing the outlaw late models so I thought for sure I’d like those stock cars as well.
Although I’d never raced them on asphalt yet.

After Knoxville Nationals in early August, I was heading to Grain Valley, Missouri to race in a USAC Silver crown race there on Saturday afternoon.

So far, I was fourth in the USAC Sprint points, second in the Silver Crown and first in the midget series
...
this meant that overall in the National Triple Crown points I was third behind Justin West and Tyler Sprague.

I was confident going into Grain Valley and that was exactly the mentality I needed to win there, and I did.

The following week I raced in Sun Prairie. I won both the midget and sprint race. It seemed that even though I was destroying a lot of cars, I was beginning to win. This was a good thing because I needed the money to pay for all that shit I broke.

Sleeping in my truck was getting old fast. I was at my wits end with my sister and Alley constantly bitching at me and I frequently found myself offering Sway my sweatshirt so she’d cover up. It was going on six months since I had sex and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go.

After the race in Sun Prairie, all of us, including Tommy who had been traveling more often with us, headed out for a night on the town. It had been a while since we had let loose since I raced sixteen days in July and already thirteen in August and we still have another week to go.

“What is that smell? Roll up the damn windows!” I barked plugging my nose as we rolled through the farm town.

It smelled like shit at the track and it smelled like shit at the hotel, so naturally, it smelled like shit at the bars.


It’s
shit, I think.” Sway said rolling up her window as we pulled up to a bar.

“I’m not going in there.” Emma announced.

“Good,” I replied sarcastically. Emma kicked at me from her place on Sway’s lap. “Kick me again and I will throw you out of this goddamn truck.” I warned not looking at her but checking my emails on my phone. I had three revisions to my schedule that Nicole from Bowman Oil sent me. They had me racing in LaSalle and Terre Haute on the same day
...
I was sure that wasn’t going to work unless I could be in Ohio and Illinois at the same time.

“Can we even get in there?” Sway asked pointing toward the Canary Grill we sat in front of.

“It’s Sun Prairie Wisconsin. I doubt they check ID’s.” Spencer said from the front seat. He sighed looking at the bar. He looked defeated. “Let’s pray they don’t.”

After four speeding tickets in two weeks, I was no longer allowed to drive. My license was suspended. Bullshit if you asked me but I wasn’t about to argue with the cop who pulled me over for doing 110 in a 45.

I think I got off good considering he could have thrown me in jail for that one.

No one was making any attempt at getting out so I did. I for one was tired of being cooped up in a car with these assholes and needed to get away. I didn’t think this bar would sell us any alcohol but when I walked in there was a large USAC calendar on the wall. I had never used my connections for anything so far but right then I did. I don’t believe in using your popularity or who you know to get anything in life but there are times when this will work for your benefit. When you’re eighteen, in a bar, and surrounded by your annoying family, you’d use your connections to get alcohol any way you could.

“Can I help you honey?” an older woman behind the bar asked. Her skin looked like leather and judging by the numerous tattoos covering her body, I doubt she cared what her skin looked like. Her voice was rough, marred by the years of smoking I’m sure.

 Spencer and Tommy walked up behind me.

“Hey Jameson,” Spencer pushed against my shoulder with his. “Sway said to tell you that she’d find you later. She and Alley went across the street.”

“For what?”
I turned to ask him. I did not like the sounds of that.

What in the hell could she need across the street?

“Hell I don’t know, they said they’d be back.” Spencer replied holding his hands defensively near his face. “Emma went with them.”

“Calm down Riley,” Tommy said throwing his lanky arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get drunk.”

“Riley?” a younger version of the leathered woman asked. She too was just as rugged but probably twenty years younger.
“As in the USAC driver?”

Spencer pushed me toward the bar and I hit the edge with a huff and tripped over a few stools in the process.
Graceful right?

“Thanks asshole.” I muttered at Spencer before flashing the girls a smile and finding my footing. “Yes, I’m Jameson Riley.” I held my hand out to them.

They shook it and the alcohol flowed from there.

The younger leathered girl was flirty and I had a few drinks by then so I flirted back. Sway walked in just about the time, Tessa, the leathered tattooed girl was showing me a tattoo of a dragon on the inside of her upper thigh. By now, she was sitting on my lap while I downed my fourth jack and coke.

Sway smiled when she approached and then walked past us to sit at the bar with Tommy and Spencer. This left me alone with leather Tessa. “Hey, I live close,” she began leaning closer to me.

I knew what she meant by this but I also knew that I was getting hammered and this girl had been ridden hard in her short years. Who knew the diseases she had and was willing to
share.
I was not about to leave with her.

Soon my brain caught up with my all too willing dick and we pried Tessa off my lap. “I need to be getting back to my friends.” I told her when she tried to push me back down in the chair.

“I’ll show you a good time.” Was her attempt at convincing me to
stay.

“I’m sure you would, but I really need to be getting back.”

“You don’t want any?” she tried again.

“Have you met my friend Tommy?” Tommy was recently single and needed some so I thought this would be good.

Turns out, Tommy was interested in Tessa. They left together not more than ten minutes after meeting each other.

This left me, drunk and horny, molesting poor Sway on the dance floor as we danced to some county song. Her head was rested against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. I breathed in, inhaling her rich intoxicating scent.

Sway sighed contently and pulled me closer. I wasn’t complaining so I wrapped my arms around her tightly. “Sing to me,” she whispered.

My lips brushed against her forehead before moving toward her ear. “I don’t know the words but I’ll try
...
” I felt her smile against my chest as I began singing in a low voice.

I realized right then this wasn’t the song for us but Sway had other ideas and asked if I wanted to get some fresh air with her.

“Let go outside.” I glanced around the bar. Tommy was gone, Emma was talking tattoos with the older bartender and Alley and Spencer were making out in a booth off in the corner.

Once outside Sway pushed me against the brick wall and her mouth was on mine in the next second. Her kisses were slow, patient and testing. Mine was frantic, desperate and uncontrolled. I picked her up, her legs wrapped around my waist and I spun her around so her back was against the wall. I let go of everything I’d been feeling those last few weeks and kissed her, everything rose to the surface. She met me as an equal, touching, kissing, and moving. The feel of her against me consumed me with pleasure. My hands greedily searched and settled on her ass.

I was operating on pure instinct and want.

I moaned against her lips, parting them ever so slightly as I settled into the juncture of her thighs. Sway gasped and at that sound, I was brought back to reality and jerked back away from her.

“Shit
...
I’m sorry honey, I
...
shouldn’t have
...
sorry.”

Sway shook her head, her breathing ragged. “No
...
it’s
okay
...
I think it’s the beer talking. I didn’t mean to attack you.” She said straightening her shirt.

“It happens,” I shrugged running my hands through my hair and then adjusting myself. Sway giggled of course and pushed against my shoulder.

“We should get back to the hotel. I’m tired.”

After that kiss, I was not tired and in definite need of a pressure valve release.

I laid awake most of the night trying to decide what it was that I wanted from Sway.

BOOK: Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge)
9.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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