Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (17 page)

Well when I raced in
silver crowns, Bucky didn’t have a number assigned since it was new for him.
USAC assigned ninety-five.

I ran that way at Terra
Haute but by the time Knoxville rolled around, I leaned on old Bucky to change
the number because if you added those two numbers together, they equaled
fourteen.

Anyone that knows me
understands I’m not superstitious per se but I did not care for the number
fourteen. Back when I raced quarter midgets at Williams Grove one year, I
wrecked on lap fourteen. It sent me to the hospital with a broken ankle. Then
while racing a winged sprint car in the fall of ‘98 at Lernerville, I was
bumped by the fourteen of Frank Luther, parasailed into a field only to flip
fourteen times and land in a pond a few yards from the track.

I did not like the
number fourteen. My dislike for the number went as far as not pitting in the
fourteen stall or setting up in a garage bay with the number fourteen on it. I
had restrictions.

Now Bucky was amused by
the dislike for the number, as was my brother. I was not.

That silver crown car
was horrible too. In Dodge City that year, I blew up the engine. In North
Wilkesboro, it caught on fire during inspection. In Haubstadt, the right rear
tire just fell off during the race. By the time Indianapolis came, the number
fourteen was changed to nine because I refused to get in the evil fucking car
until it was changed.

And you know what, a
funny thing happened that night in Indy, I won.

Knowing this, I’m sure
you can imagine my enthusiasm for any driver racing the number fourteen. Mike
just started on the wrong foot and kept it up. The fact that he was driving
Darrin’s car wasn’t the problem. It was the fucking number that I had the
biggest problem with. 

“Cole, you copy?” I
asked noticing the car in front of me was Tanner.

“10-4 Riley, what’s
up?”

“Oh
just
havin
’ some fun with Tanner here.
Wanna help?”

“Fuck yeah.”

With the help of Bobby
and Tate, we had Tanner boxed pretty good when I pulled up beside him. In the
turns, I’d slide the back end sideways, pushing against his car just about the
time Tate leaned on the other side. This caused the air to be taken off the
front end, in turn; he had one loose race car on his hands. You could see his
hands frantically adjusting the wheel in the turns and overcorrecting it.

“Jameson,” Kyle warned
with a hint of amusement. “NASCAR just reminded me that you are still on
probation and to stop fucking around.” Then he laughed, this shit was funny.

“An official said stop
fucking around?”

“Oh you get my point.”

“Yeah, I know.” I
laughed. “Just having a little fun with him,”

Mike was sandwiched in
between us; there was no way around so when I pushed up into him in turn four,
Tate shot forward. Mike pushed up into the marbles, got loose and turned
himself sideways on the backstretch.

Kyle and Ethan started
laughing. The child within, flipped him off when we came back around. “Welcome
to the cup series Tanner!”

“All right bud.” Kyle
guffawed. “You’ve had your fun, now focus on the race.”

I did have my fun but
my car turned to shit around lap two-hundred when the brakes got so hot they
started shredding tires. I couldn’t keep the goddamn thing straight. I was utterly
amazed when we finished fifth but satisfied I at least finished my first race
back with no real complications from myself. Once I was out of the car, I was
feeling the strain on my body but it felt good just to be back. For someone who
has raced pretty much non-stop since he was four, it wasn’t a good feeling not
racing for close to five weeks.

After a handful of
interviews and a nap on the plane, I was landing in Olympia and driving to
Elma.

When I made my way to
Sway’s, Charlie was in the kitchen.

“Hey Charlie, it’s like
three in the morning.” I sat down across from him at the table. “What are you
doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” He
replied with a shrug. Leaning forward, he poured himself another shot of
whiskey. Judging by his appearance, he’d been at this for a while.

“How are you feeling?”
I glanced down at the bottle of whiskey.

“Okay I guess—could be
worse.” He laughed, his eyes glazed. “Everyone says I’m losing my mind but what
the fuck do they know.”

We sat there in silence
for a few minutes before he looked up at me. “Sway told me she’s pregnant.”

Hiding my smirk, I drew
in a deep breath, prepared for Charlie to lecture me about knocking up his only
daughter. Instead, he surprised me by placing a black box on the table and
sliding it toward me—along with the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass.

“What’s that?” I asked
motioning toward the box.

“It’s a ring.”

“Are you asking me to
marry you, Charlie?” I chuckled at my weak attempt for humor this late.

“No dumbass,” he rolled
his eyes. “
it’s
for Sway. If you want to marry her,”

Reaching for the
whiskey, a smirk materialized as he poured each of us a shot. After taking the
shot, I carefully opened the box revealing a roughly two-carat emerald cut
platinum diamond ring surrounded by diamond prongs. Not that I’d given too much
thought to the ring or the proposal, I did know I wanted to marry Sway and that
ring was exactly what I imagined now.

“It was Rachel’s,
passed on down from her mother.” A small smile ghosted across his lips. “Sway
loved that ring, even at six years old. Rachel always wanted her to have it so
I hung on to it for her.”

“And you want me to
give it to her?”

“Well you knocked her
up,” he replied wryly. “It’s the least you could do.”

“I um
...
shouldn’t I be asking you to marry your
daughter not the other way around?”

“Yes
...
you should.” he nodded. “Let’s hear it
kid, why should I let you marry my daughter?” He crossed his arms over his
chest leaning back in his chair. It was an intimidating gesture and I knew it
was meant to be perceived that way.

I wasn’t prepared for
this and I had no idea what to say but when I opened my mouth to speak, the
words spilled out.

“All my life, all I’ve
ever known is racing. I’ve always been arrogant but deep down I never felt I
had what it would take to make it to NASCAR. Until one summer night, I met this
beautiful girl who believed in me. She believed that I could do it. She was
there for me through it all no matter what I put her through. It took me a
while to realize that everything I have ever dreamed of wasn’t just racing
anymore. It was Sway. Racing is my career, but without Sway—none of that would
be possible. I tried to make it without her but I always felt restless as
though I had a flat tire hanging on just to finish the race.” My eyes had
remained fixed on the worn wood of the table. Nodding, I looked up at him. “I
love your daughter Charlie. I will take care of her and our child
...
and any future children. I know this
lifestyle I have isn’t ideal but I want Sway. I’ve seen firsthand the strain it
causes on families but I know Sway and I can make it work.”

Charlie was quiet for a
few minutes before he smiled, his brow raised. “I’m impressed kid.”

“So am I.” I admitted
running my hand across the back of my slick neck reaching for the whiskey with
the other.

“You know why I thought
you were using her in the beginning?”

“Because I was,”

“Yes, you were.”
Charlie poured himself another shot, a contemplative look flashed over his
flushed appearance. “You see, I saw right through you. I saw through you
because you’re a lot like me. You’ll do anything to make sure Sway is taken
care of. I knew you were in love with her from the beginning. But I also knew
that you were so hell bent on keeping Sway away from you, that anything you
offered her wouldn’t be permanent.”

He was more perceptive
then I gave him credit for.

“Do you know why I
asked you to take over the track rather than an investor?”

I shook my head.

“Because I knew it was an
opportunity you wouldn’t walk away from. It was an obligation I knew you’d take
and in turn, you’d be with Sway.”

“You wanted us
together.” I deduced taking another shot for myself; Charlie did the same. I
was so tired and buzzed, I wasn’t sure this conversation was really happening
now. Was I dreaming all this?

“I knew that if you
guys were together as much as a track owner and general manager are, you’d see
you two are perfect for each other. My daughter’s happiness means everything to
me and you are what
makes
her happy. Even if you ended
up not providing her the relationship she wanted, you’d always be there for her
with the track.”

I thought about that
for a moment. He was right.

“How’d you know I loved
her?”

Charlie let out a deep
chuckle, his smile somewhat boyish. “Son, you’ve loved my little girl from the
moment you two met. Jimi and I actually had bets on how long it would take for
you to pull your head out of your ass.
Won myself five
hundred bucks.”
He nodded arrogantly and then his face turned solemn. “I
know you’ll take care of her and that baby.” His head dipped in approval. “I
just hope that I’m around to at least see the baby born and walk my only
daughter down the aisle.”

Man, talk about
pressure. Like I said, I knew I wanted to propose but now it was like there was
a fire under my ass to do it soon. I wasn’t the type of guy who liked being
pressured into doing things.

When I made it upstairs
to
Sway’s
room, after finishing off the fifth of
whiskey with Charlie, I was three sheets to the wind.

Stumbling around,
trying to get my clothes off was a difficult task. Thankfully, Sway was a sound
sleeper, I could start my goddamn race car in her room and she still wouldn’t
wake.

I managed to get
undressed and snuggled in bed with her. She sighed contently when I wrapped my
arms around her tiny waist. Worming her way in, she sighed when our bodies
touched. She didn’t have to be awake, our bodies knew each other to the point
they could anticipate the contact.

Falling asleep wasn’t
easy. I had no idea how I was going to propose to
Sway
but I knew I needed to make it special for her. She deserved that much. I also
needed to do it soon. Knowing Charlie wouldn’t be around much longer, it’d be a
miracle if he made it to Christmas. Though I knew about his sickness for close
to a year now, it still didn’t change the heartache I felt thinking he was
dying and there was nothing anyone could do for him. Sure he could try
radiation therapy again but what would that do but prolong the inevitable. The
cancer had spread.

Eventually I did sleep
and when I woke up, I was alone in bed.

It wasn’t long and I
found myself back at the track only this time as an owner, not a driver.

“Hey, you’re Jameson
Riley.”

I turned around to see
who it was. I didn’t recognize him.

“Yeah, so
...
” I turned back toward Aiden. It may
have been rude, but I was also working.

I didn’t have time for
this today. My whole fucking morning had been this way. First it started by
waking up alone. Sway had gotten up early to get to the track so I’d yet to
even see her. When Aiden and I arrived at the track, I was bombarded with fans
waiting for me to arrive. Word got out I was the new the owner, which meant a
constant stream of fan fair. Good for business, bad for me.

Don’t get me wrong. I
appreciate everyone that comes out to watch me race but there are times when it
was overwhelming. Everyone wants just a few seconds with you but then so does
the next guy. Before you know it, you’ve been standing there an hour signing
autographs. That right there is what wears on you over time.

The kid, who apparently
knew me, followed us toward the concession stands of Grays Harbor on our way to
get coffee.

“I’m Dylan Grady. We
went to high school together.”

Dylan
...
I don’t know a Dylan
...
wait a second
.

“Oh yeah,” I turned
toward him. “I remember you. You also knew Sway, right?”

He laughed arrogantly.
“Not really, at least not standing up.” Dylan hinted with a smug smile.

I shook my head
laughing; one hard warning
laugh
. Before he could even
comprehend what happened, I drew my fist back and punched him square in the
jaw, and then I followed up with an elbow to his nose—we both heard the
gruesome snap. Considering what he did to Sway, I didn’t stop. Instead, I
brought my knee up hard to his stomach to get my greeting across.

He gasped loudly crying
out in pain. Yanking his limp body up, I slammed him against the wall of the
ticket booth. His eyes went wide with panic mirroring Aiden’s.