Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (52 page)

“Thank you for having
me,” he said reaching for the water next to him. I was happy to see that he was
finally hydrating himself. I hadn’t seen him eat or drink anything lately.

“First off,
congratulations on the win yesterday,”

“Thank you,” he nodded
leaning against the back. His legs were spread slightly and I found my eyes
drawn there.

I’m pathetic!

He was once again
dressed like a walking Simplex billboard with a gray t-shirt that had the red
and black Simplex logo across the chest. He was wearing his dark indigo jeans
that I loved paired with his white and black Puma shoes. He completed this
insanely attractive look with a white Simplex baseball hat, his mess of rusty
loops sticking out the sides.

“So Jameson, I see the
win yesterday has put you into second position right behind your teammate Bobby
Cole. Does this cause any tension between you two?”

“No, not at all,”
Jameson laughed lightly. “Bobby and I get along great. He’s the best teammate I
could ask for. Bobby Cole and I have very different racing styles but the
differences seem to balance out the team well and provide us with advantages.
Where he’s stronger on road courses and superspeedways, I’m strong on the short
tracks and cookie cutters.”

“It definitely seems
like that. Now what about Tate Harris in third behind you—any tension there?
Come on kid,
give me the dirt
!”

Another laugh from
Jameson as he shifted his weight on the couch, “No, we all get along great. I
actually had dinner with Tate the other night.” He told him. “He’s a great
mentor in the sport and I learn a lot from him.”

Dave laughed, as he
knew Jameson wasn’t giving up anything. “So you got engaged, right? Cause I saw
that live. My wife actually gave me crap. Something about not being romantic
enough for her,” Dave shot Jameson a glare.

We laughed, as did
Jameson. “Yeah, I got engaged.”

“Now tell me about this
girl of yours, you two grew up together, right?” Dave always had a way with
trying to get personal information out of his guests but he’d never had Jameson
as a guest.

“I met Sway when I was
eleven, so yeah, we grew up together.” Jameson nodded. I could tell he was
trying to give them the brief version, not the version where we got drunk,
slept together and decided to be fuck buddies that ended up creating a little
flailing adorable spaz. “I think I just realized at some point how important
the people who have stuck by me through it all are and I realized she was the
one. So I asked to marry me.”

“So no dating
...
you just said marry me one day?”

Jameson laughed again
at Dave’s attempt for details. “Yeah, something
like
that. I just thought hey, she seems to like me, why not ask her to marry me. So
I did.”

“Well aren’t you so
lucky?”

“Or maybe she’s lucky?”
He smirked raising his eyebrows slightly. “I’m quite the catch you know.”

“So I’ve heard from the
female fans here with all those screams.” Dave laughed as Jameson nodded his
head arrogantly provoking the female attendees. Anyone that knew Jameson; knew
exactly what he was doing in this interview; he was using his humor to get out
of answering anything personal. “And you’re going to be a dad in March, right?”

“I think you know more
about my life then I do.” He arched an amused eyebrow toward Dave. “Did you
Google me or something?” Leaning forward again, he took another slow drink of
water, which also distracted me.

Was he trying to kill
me here?

“Yes, yes,” Dave
smiled. “I
Googled
you
...
”

The rest of the
interview they talked about racing and ended with Dave pressuring Jameson to
invite him to the wedding, which Jameson responded with, “If you
Googled
me, how come you didn’t find out that I already got
married the other day?” he flashed a sly smile as the female crowd in
attendance all said “No” at the same time.

“Where’s your ring then
stud?”

“Well, I guess you got
me there.” Jameson laughed.

It was good to see him
in high spirits and joking around there but I couldn’t wait for him to come
back. It seemed since the accident, I’d turned into attachment Barbie.

It took three weeks
total for me to be discharged from that hospital in Loudon New Hampshire.

Three.
Miserable.
Fucking.
Weeks.

Three weeks of Emma
bouncing around with that goddamn wedding planner designing my entire wedding
because she lost out on her fairytale wedding when she got drunk and married
Aiden in Vegas. I hardly thought this was my fault but I was paying for it
regardless. She also insisted on painting my nails, curling my hair every day
and shaving my legs. It was like I was trying out for a beauty contest or
something.

When she offered to wax
my girly pad, I went apeshit on her and had to say, “Get the fuck away from me.
I draw the line there, no touching my girly parts!”

Then there were the
three weeks of Spencer sending me ridiculous texts that just made me want to
bomb my phone. He knew Jameson and I were sexually frustrated and insisted on
making matters worse. I’ll spare you the details but Jameson said he was doing
the same thing to him. We both had to change our phone numbers to get him to
stop.

There were three weeks
of Nancy knitting about a hundred baby blankets for the ten kids she apparently
thought I was having.

Three
weeks of Jameson being Jameson; hotheaded, then sweet, then back to hotheaded,
then arrogant, then incredibly fucking sexy.
All of those things
never bothered me as much as the incredibly sexy part did. Even found it sexy
when he threw a second chair through a window because the nurses wouldn’t stop
walking in on our frequent make-out sessions. And yes, any moment we were
alone, we were kissing and touching like crazed hormone induced teenagers. It
was frustrating but there was also an intense desire burning between the two of
us. We knew we couldn’t do much more than make out but it also left something
to be desired when we were alone.

To me, I thought there
was no better way than to forget what happened by picking up where we left off.
Normally, someone who’d been through something like this would need therapy or
some shit. Not me, I needed my dirty heathen and ice cream.

There were some upsides
to my stay there. Emma and I had sampled every single flavor of Ben and Jerry’s
ice cream, compliments of Van and his frequent runs to the store.

I tried to tell him
this wasn’t part of his job but he insisted on helping out. Personally, I think
it was his attempt to get away from Emma.

Finally though, today
was the day, me and my little flailing adorable spaz were off on our adventure
of the road trip.

My weekly ultrasounds
showed he was doing great but I was still on bed rest until thirty two weeks. Since
I was only on week twenty one, it was going to be a long eleven weeks. Stitches
were gone, bruises were healing but I still had my cast on.

The progression of my
pre-term labor stopped but I was also required to take medication every day
that I couldn’t even pronounce let alone remember to take.

Checking out seemed to
take hours between filling prescriptions and
all the
nursing staff saying goodbye. Though I became friends with them, I couldn’t say
I would miss being there. The food was horrible.

Jameson couldn’t be
there the day I left since he was racing in Charlotte. He called, and called
again and then made sure the hospital gave me all my medicines and aftercare
instructions. I had to laugh at how protective he was being.

Our road trip started
in Nashua New Hampshire. By the time we’d reached Albany New York, I was ready
to pull out my fucking hair.

Emma was sitting in the
front seat of the black Ford Expedition Jameson rented, her feet on the dash
talking to Van while she painted her toes. I dosed off frequently from being so
exhausted but I caught pieces of the conversation.

“You know Van,” Emma
said conversationally. “
after
this road trip our
periods are going to sync home skillet!”

Van stared at her in
horror that she just mentioned her period to him and called him home skillet. I
didn’t blame him. She’d been crossing a lot of lines today.

Shifting to get
comfortable, I sent Jameson a text. He’d be getting ready for the race right
about now and I knew I could offer some good luck.

Are you missing me?

As I expected, he
responded right away.

I am honey. I can’t
think of anything but you right now. And reporters are staring at me!

Same.

You got reporters
staring at you?

No silly. I miss
you.

Oh, how are you
feeling?

I’m on a road trip with
Emma, how do you think I’m feeling?

Point
taken.
I’m sorry you had to drive.
I could almost hear his
sigh through his text.

Me
too.

What are you
wearing?

Are you sexting me?
I laughed.

I guess I am, now
what are you wearing?

Something really
sexy...a white tank top and sweat pants! Can’t get much hotter than that right
there!

I agree. That’s
pretty fucking hot.

What are you
wearing?

My
racing suit.

I’m intrigued. Keep
talking.
I
could get used to this sexting tech support.

Really?

Very
much so.
I like a man in uniform.

I have to go...take
care of something now, thanks for that.

I burst out in a
giggle. Van smiled, his gaze caught mine in the review mirror.

Need any help?

I will when I see
you on Wednesday, don’t hurt your other hand...I’m gonna need some assistance.

That I can do.

That’s my line!

Jameson?

Yes?

Go take care of your
problem.

Yes, honey.

Good luck tonight,
win one for me.

Always, listen to it
on the radio. I love you!

Love you too!

Snapping a photo of
myself smiling, I sent it to him with the words:
Think of me
underneath it.

His response back was a
picture of his hand slipping inside his racing suit and the words:
Oh I am!

As promised, we
listened to the race on the radio driving through New York. Jameson started on
the pole again. The announcers went on and on about how he seemed to be on some
sort of mission, which he was. Jameson was out to prove to me, and the world
that he could do it. Despite all odds, despite feeling like lapped traffic, he
could win the championship his first season. Honestly, I think he was out to
prove to himself that all those sacrifices he felt he was making, were worth
it.

Jameson ended up
getting a flat tire half way through the race but that didn’t stop him. He made
his way back through the field in fifty laps and was back to leading.

Like I said, he was on
a mission.

And it paid off,
because once again, he won. He won at a track that everyone thought he’d have
problems with since the horrific accident that occurred there.

Van, Emma and I all
clapped when they announced Jameson had won.

“Look at this kid! He’s
got it together.” Walter the announcer commented. “This win tonight just put
him in the lead for the championship for the first time in his career.”

They went on to talk
more about him until they spoke with him in victory lane. We laughed at his
humor he used to avoid anything personal but he did send me a hello. “I just
have to say hello to my Sway. I miss you and I’m sorry you’re stuck with my
sister, but this win is for you. Emma, if you’re listening. Be nice.” he warned
his voice stern but entertaining.

“Whatever.” Emma
mumbled flipping off the radio and continued to paint her toenails.

By now, she had to have
had at least ten coats on them.