Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (26 page)

“Nope, we have done
things in this hauler I hope no one ever finds out about.”

Tommy perked up. “You
know, everyone thinks they’re so sneaky around here but we can hear everything.
There’s no installation.” He looked between Ami and me leaning against the side
of the hauler now.

“Go easy on the beer
fire crotch, it is daytime.”

He smiled, blue eyes
amused under his black hat. With his orange curls looping out just like
Jameson’s usually did, he looked like a damn Halloween costume. “Yeah, okay. I
will if you can keep your legs closed for one night.”

Jameson was quicker
than I was and backhanded Tommy upside the head without saying anything as they
scrambled to make a few adjustments on the cars. All three sprint cars were
lined up outside the hauler caked in clay.

Tommy was distracted
after that leaving Ami and I to add tear-offs to the helmets, something I
always enjoyed doing for Jameson.

“It’s racy tonight.”
Justin waggled his eyebrows at Jameson as they pulled the racing suits back
over their shoulders.

“Ah-yeah,” Jameson
replied with a southern draw I didn’t know he had. “Best of luck to you two.”

The taunting was on.
They were all friends inside the pits. On the track, no one was friends.

Jameson smiled when the
horn sounded twice letting us know it was time for the drivers to line up for
the A-Feature.

All this; the sounds,
the sights, the laughter among the boys; it was like reliving all those summer
races together one bullhorn at a time.

Tommy made a few
frantic adjustments to Tyler’s car before he pounded on the wing letting him
know he was ready. They pushed the cars into line for the trucks to lead them
to the track to be pushed off.

Tommy controlled all
the set-ups of both Jameson’s sprint cars as well as the one he had for himself
on occasions like this. Tommy Davis was a sought after guy at the dirt tracks.
Not only did he have a degree in engineering, he knew sprint cars better than
most seasoned vets. Jameson had confidence in him and without Tommy; JAR Racing
wouldn’t be what it was.

This team, Tommy,
Justin, and Tyler, was essentially his buddies growing up. Tommy of course went
to high school with us. And he met Justin and Tyler back when he raced for USAC
(United States Auto Club), a division that has three premier divisions of
midgets, sprint cars and silver crown sprint cars.

When Jameson started
racing Busch and then eventually in the Winston Cup series, he couldn’t let go
of his dirt side. So to keep with that, he started JAR Racing in 2002 and
teamed up with Simplex, Ayers Manufacturing, and
PowerPlus
Performance, to field two cars in the World of Outlaw series, the premier
division for winged sprint car racing in the United States.

For being into their
first year, Justin was running fifth in the points with Tyler running ninth.
The best part was they were all having fun.

And though Jimi would
never tell you, he kept it going for Jameson. With all the obligations on the
cup side, Jameson didn’t have time to take care of everything when the outlaws
raced twice or sometimes three times a week. Jimi made sure things were done
right. He knew how much it meant to Jameson.

Tommy, Ami and I made
our way back to the pit bleachers to watch the feature.

The lights of the track
burst on at the setting sun highlighting the fire breathing sprint cars on the
track. The top wings, all shinny and polished, glistened as they passed by the
front-stretch. Greasy food, beer, methanol, warm rubber, sunscreen, fresh grass
all outweighed the paper mill smell, thank god. Inhaling deeply, I was reminded
of everything I loved about this place on a Friday night at the local dirt
track and the catchy nicknames it brought with it.

They announced the
drivers and their catchy nicknames they had most of their careers. Justin West
was, “Wicked West” and pull off some of the wickedest slide jobs you ever saw.
Tyler Sprague was “The Sleeper” and waited until the last moment to make his
move. Jameson, well he carried his from NASCAR, “Rowdy Riley” and watching him
race dirt, the name did him justice.

The cars circled,
thunderous and defined, the cellophane tear-offs stuck to the chain-link fence.
Each with a loud pop as the lifted in the turns and then the sharp growl as
they feathered through the high banked turns. The dust cloud swirled breaking
just above the tree line before dissipating into the night’s air.

The green flag waved
and it was all we could do to see the cars with the wave of dirt that blew
toward us.

About ten laps into the
40-lap main, most were hugging the bottom where Jameson and Tyler were riding
the cushion of caution up top. The cars were sticking and would be considered
dry-slick with a black layer of rubber laid down.

Tyler grabbed a new
line on the inside near lap seventeen, Jameson kept with his line up top and
managed to knock off a few cars and hold on to third for a while.

Jameson still had it
and could hang with the guys like he never left dirt. Coming back to dirt, most
thought, why would you risk it with the deal you have going with Simplex and
NASCAR? Sure, Jameson had a sponsorship with Simplex that prohibited him from
doing activities that could hurt him. But the thing was
,
dirt racing was how Jameson relaxed. Simplex knew that. In turn, they respected
his decisions and trusted him to be careful.

Honestly, I think he
raced dirt again just to prove he still could. I mean sure, there was the
relaxation part but he never got away from dirt for too long as it was his
roots and he needed to know for himself that it still was. It was almost as if
this was his reality check.

The dirt had layered
hovering over the track. As each car whipped past, the wind circled the cloud
creating a vortex sucking the cars to the clay. Justin had a good three car gap
on the rest of the field of twenty cars with twenty to go and pretty much
checked out after that, no one could catch him.

Before we knew it, the
40-lap feature was done with no cautions.

Though Jameson finished
third behind Justin and a local kid named Danny Utley, he was all smiles when
he pulled himself from the car.

It was moments like
this, surrounded by our inner circle of family and friends, where the man who
dominated on the track let his guard down. In turn, we saw the twenty-three
year old kid that he was. Gone was the man who challenged everyone who
questioned his skill and who told him he couldn’t do it. Present was the magic
behind the wheel, Jameson Riley. Vulnerable but extremely relentless, most
forgot he was a kid living his dream within the shadows of the greatness Jimi
created in the world of racing.

I’m not sure anyone
would ever see him in the light I saw him in; for who he really was. But then
again, would they understand such a complex man full of adrenaline and desire
like he was?

I don’t think they
could.

“You want a beer man?”
Justin opened the cooler once everyone was back at the hauler. He held his
trophy close petting it as he handed Jameson the beer.

Jameson nodded taking
the beer from Justin and then tried to steal his trophy.

The celebration at the
hauler was in full swing just like the good old days. Though we were all having
a good time and sharing stories from the past, most at Tommy’s expense, something
kept drawing my attention toward the shadows of the track where the lights had
just flickered off but I couldn’t understand why.

Seated securely on
Jameson’s lap, he didn’t let me forget where he wanted my attention with his
touches that never failed to hit me with another round of heat and desire. It
wasn’t like the heat from the day had dissipated in the least and neither had
our unfinished business. Now wasn’t the time though. This was about hanging out
with our friends right now.

Ami was leaned against
Justin’s sprint car. His arm was draped over her shoulders and the other one
holding his trophy taunting Jameson.

“It’s not too often I
beat the boss man.” Justin would say every now and then and hug the trophy
tighter causing us all to break into laughter.

Tommy had disappeared
and none of us thought much of it since we had seen his attention toward a few
of the pit lizards.

When he returned, we
thought some of it because Van, our bodyguard, who I’d met all of one time, was
beside him. He was sneaky, stealthy even and wasn’t noticed unless he wanted to
be. I personally had no idea he even followed us here but I guess maybe that
was his plan all along.

I could actually count
the number of occasions when Tommy had acted his age of twenty-three. As he
jogged up to us, now was one of them. “Jameson, we need to leave.”

“Why?” His hands slid
from my thighs as I stood.

“We just do.”

That right there
confirmed my earlier theory. Darrin was here.

A few minutes passed as
Jameson stared into the distance.

Tyler jogged over from
the Simplex/Ayers tent where he’d just been. His shaggy black hair matted from
the sweat of the race fell loosely over his forehead before he swept it away.

“Hey man, uh
...
” his brown eyes danced around searching
for words that wouldn’t set Jameson off. His hand rose to scratch the back of
his head, stalling. “We have a problem.”

“So I’ve been told,”
Jameson replied, his eyes darting to Tommy and then Justin. “When did he get
here?”

“Stay here.” He tone
was militant. There would be no discussion.

Tommy stayed beside Ami
and me while Jameson, Justin, Tyler and Van approached the crowd he knew Darrin
was in.

“He’s like a bad rash.”
Tommy said almost conversationally as we followed. There was no way I was
letting Jameson go over there without me. For one, I was scared of the dark and
two; I didn’t trust Tommy all that much. And third, I had to know what he was
going to say to someone who nearly killed him and had the nerve to show his
face again. “He’s irritating and itchy but nothing gets rid of him.”

I couldn’t help myself
and smiled despite the events unfolding. “You know a lot about rashes, don’t
you?”

Tommy cracked a
fleeting grin. All our eyes focused on the boys standing near the hauler of a
local driver.

When Jameson actually
spotted Darrin for the first time, it was all Tommy and Justin could do to hold
him back.

Tommy’s head snapped
toward Jameson when he mumbled something under his breath and apparently, Tommy
heard it. The tension rolling off Jameson was enough to vibrate him. My firm
grasp on his hand seemed to be the only reason he wasn’t shaking.

“I told you to stay
back there.”

I didn’t say anything,
just drew in a deep breath, preparing myself for the release of his anger.

“Oh, look who it is.”
Darrin said stepping toward us as his hands reached toward me but he stopped
short when Jameson pulled me hard to his side. A few men gathered near Darrin,
protecting him I assumed, but I never looked at them only briefly acknowledging
people standing there.

Jameson said nothing to
him. He just stood there with his shoulders straight and arms hanging at his
sides while holding my hand.

“I see your possessive
tendencies are still there.”

“Fuck you. You’re lucky
I’m letting you stand here right now.” Jameson, trying to be the bigger person
here, walked away.

“You know I’ve learned
something about you lately,” Darrin grinned as though this was just some casual
conversation. “
you
make a lot of threats with no
follow through.”

Jameson’s shoulders
hunched and he froze by the rear tires of the hauler.

“You’ve pissed him off
now.” Tommy warned. Laughter broke out around the group trying to keep this
from turning on us.

“Like I give a shit,”
Darrin replied completely relaxed.

“See, that’s your
problem,” Tommy snorted calmly cracking another beer open he pulled from his
pocket. “You
should
care.”

That’s when Darrin
decided to get
chippy
with Jameson. This was probably
his second worst idea with the first being showing up here.

“So you’re just gonna
stand there with your back to reality?” Darrin tried again. “It’s okay for you
to hit on my girl but the same doesn’t go for your bitch?”

I really wanted to hit
him right then. If I hadn’t been so intent on Jameson, I would have. Justin and
Tommy stepped toward Darrin blocking Jameson who was remaining in control.

“Why are you so upset
your girl wanted me?” Jameson acted as though he was thinking before he added.
“Oh, I know, because she screams my name at night, huh?” Jameson snorted amused
with himself. “It fucking
kills
you that she was all over my dick in
Daytona.”

For a moment, Justin
and I gaped at each other, frozen at Jameson’s haughty response—me more than
Justin.