The Champion (Racing on the Edge)

This book is a work of fiction. Names, sponsors, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or
living, is coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this book are solely those of
the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of NASCAR, its employees,
or its representatives, teams, and drivers within the series. The car numbers
used within this book are not representing those drivers who use those numbers
either past or present in any NASCAR series, USAC or The World of Outlaw Series
and are used for the purpose of this fiction story only. The author does not
endorse any product, driver, or other material racing in NASCAR, USAC or The
World of Outlaw Series. The opinions in this work of fiction are simply that,
opinions and should not be held liable for any product purchase, and or effect
of any racing series based on those opinions. This book is told through first
person narration and switches point of view between characters.

The Champion is the fourth book in the Racing on the Edge
series.

The Champion

It’s hard to see past the speed when you’re going 200
MPH.

Copyright © 2012 by Shey Stahl

Published in the United States of America

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared,
or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be
scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in
any other way via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without
the publishers permission. Criminal copyright infringement including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250.000.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S.
Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any
means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without
the prior written permission of Shey Stahl.

Warning: This book contains adult content,
explicit language, and sexual situations.

Cover Art and
Interior Design
: Shey Stahl Productions

Editing and Proof
Reading
: Linda Knight

http://sheystahl.blogspot.com/

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:
@SheyStahl

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: Shey
Stahl

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Acknowledgements:

I’d like to thank my badass readers! They are the best
and pimp my books like none other. Thank you.

An extra special thanks to my girls who are always there
for me, Lisa, Kellie, Daina, Callie, Melissa, Elaine, and Caitie.

My husband and honey girl, I couldn’t do this without
your support along the way.

My sister, thank you Ami, I love you for everything you
do for me even if you never answer my text messages.

My parents and the rest of my family, your support means
everything.

Linda, oh Linda, I couldn’t do this without you and you
know that. Regardless, you’re the best and always here to talk me through
everything and out of the ridiculous. I laugh every single time you write “Took
out semi.” That right there shows my maturity in all this.

And finally, my racer boys who help with all the terms
and that includes, my husband, whose mechanic expertise is greatly appreciated.
Axel, Billy, Kasey, Joey, Justin, Trey and Cody.

Enjoy the story and don’t worry, there’s more to come
after this.

This book is dedicated to my mom. Childhood
should be a child’s best memories. Because of you, they were for me.

All compromise is based on give and take, but there can
be no give and take on fundamentals. Any compromise on mere fundamentals is a
surrender. For it is all give and no take.

~Gandhi

Prelude

A Champion – Jameson

A Champion – A
champion is said to be an individual or team who has defeated all opponents in
a series, event, or race.

The morning brought with it grief and regret, but also
answers as to what might have gone wrong.

My wife—my wonderful understanding and supportive
wife—stood beside me, watching the crowd gather in the stands of Charlotte
Motor Speedway.

It was times like these that I looked at my life, my
family, my team, and wondered why?

Why them and not me, or us?

Racers like me are used to deciding their own fate on a
track. That’s not to say outside factors don’t play a role, but usually, your
destiny, which is dependent on the outcome of a race, is held in your hands.

As a racer, your home is the track. It’s where your love
for racing is formed and where you cultivate it into something great. It’s
where nothing else matters but the dedication, passion, confidence, and
ambition. These were the only traits that I believed set a racer apart from
others. Until today.

Racers are not born racers.

Sure, you may have some innate ability within you that
drove you down this career path, but it’s not a gift. It’s a natural
inclination for speed, competition and tact—for pushing yourself beyond your
comfort zone, taking risks, and striving to be the best.

Over time you nurture these to become a champion in the
sport that has consumed your entire life. Success and respect in the industry
isn’t just handed to you.

I was a champion. The racing community was looking to me
for answers. They wanted me to help them through this tragic time.

But could I?

Lisa approached me and Tate standing on the grid. The
tears in her eyes reflected what the racing community was feeling. “Jameson,
can you give the speech this morning?”

This was something that countless hours on the track and
in the garage never prepared me for. Consequently, I realized that titles,
trophies and driving abilities, were not, in fact, what set a champion apart
from other racers. The true test was now.

You see, every now and then, a racer comes along and his
talent isn’t defined by the trophies or by his ability. What sets him apart is
what defines him in the blaring spotlight.

It’s ordinary men doing extraordinary things.

Still, the questions remained.

Could I?

1.
             
Window Net – Sway

Window Net – This
is a woven mesh that hangs across the driver’s side window to prevent the
driver’s head and arms from being exposed during an accident.

Living with Jameson was
...
difficult.

The only person I’d ever lived with was Charlie, my dad,
and those two couldn’t have been more different. Jameson was constantly leaving
his clothes everywhere, shoes in the oddest places and I don’t think he
understood where the garbage was or that we had one. I even went as far as
making a sign that said, “Hello, I’m the garbage can.”

Didn’t work. He still set his empty beer bottles on the
counter and trash on the counters. I didn’t understand. Even three-year old
Lane, Jameson’s nephew, put shit in the garbage but my husband at twenty-three,
couldn’t.

Honestly though, Mr. Jangles, my overly large cat, kept
his litter box tidier than Jameson did our kitchen.

Since we had just gotten married, I decided to wait at
least few weeks before I brought this up to him. We were still in the honeymoon
stages. There was no sense in ruining that.

I’ve always wanted to have a huge family dinner. Now
clearly, I wasn’t rational when I had the idea that this would all go smoothly.
I must have been high as shit.

What happened that evening was hard to describe.

After we arrived home from the small honeymoon and the
championship awards banquet, Jameson, my NASCAR Winston Cup series champion
husband, assured me the real honeymoon would come after the baby was born and
we could really have some fun. The naughty wizard (my nickname for myself)
envisioned broken furniture and clothes hanging from ceiling fans—the good ole
Pit Lizard days before I looked like a whale.

Being eight months pregnant I thought I would never see
my feet again let alone single digit jeans.

Once at our home on Summit Lake, I decided I wanted
everyone together for Christmas. I also decided to have this whole Christmas
dinner disaster without Jameson’s knowledge. Nancy, Jameson’s mom, offered to help,
as did Alley, his publicist and sister-in law. So I thought no problem, right?

Wrong again.

It started when I convinced Jameson we needed to drive to
Olympia the day before Christmas Eve and go to Bed Bath and Beyond so I could
actually get dishes to cook with. That was one necessity our home was not
stocked with. We were currently eating off paper plates with plastic forks.

His response, “I don’t think so. I have no desire to go
to a Bed or Bath
...
or whatever else they
sell. What the hell does the beyond part stand for?”

Ignoring him, I continued. “I need dishes.” I told him
sitting next to him on the couch as he flipped through the channels. “This
house has nothing in it.”

“That’s not true,” he took another drink of his beer,
nodding his head toward the kitchen. “There are paper plates in there.”

“I need dishes for Christmas dinner.”

His head slowly turned toward me. His facial expression
was hard to read but it was something similar to the time I told Charlie, my
dad, to take a flying fuck when I was thirteen because he wouldn’t let me
pierce my nipples.

“Why?” he finally asked with a sour edge.

“EveryoneiscomingoverforChristmasdinner,” I blurted out
as fast as I could and began to run away but was quickly stopped by a death
grip on my wrist.

“Come again, Sway?” his eyes narrowed. “For a second
there I thought you said everyone is coming over for Christmas dinner.”

I swallowed. It was as though I was trying to swallow
over a boulder in my throat.

“I did.”

He was silent. No words, nothing, just stared at me, his
expression tense, fixated and frankly, it frightened me. I was also almost
certain he wasn’t breathing.

I felt the need to explain and then when that didn’t work
I did what any normal knocked up woman would do. I cried.

“Shhh
...
shhh
...
it’s okay honey.” He soothed rubbing my arm
and then swiftly pulled me against his chest when it became apparent that the
tears wouldn’t end without some sort of physical assistance. “I just
...
don’t like my family that much. What would
make you think I would want them all at our house, at the same time?”

I cried some more. “I just want everyone together before
they aren’t anymore.” I wailed in a childlike way.

That did him in. He knew right then I meant Charlie and
agreed to my plan, with a stipulation.

“If those fucking twins spill anything,” he eyed me
carefully. “I’m shutting the entire operation down.”

After my break down, we made our way to town for
materials and maybe even some drugs for my husband. I wasn’t sure there was any
other way to control him if we had both our families together.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a
...
actually
...
I have no clue. Let’s go find the plates.”
I began walking away from the kitchen gadgets and over to the dishes.

Jameson threw his arm around my shoulder.

“Yes. Let’s find these dishes you speak of and get the
hell out of here. I hate shopping.”

We were shopping like a normal husband and wife and it
was nice. Aside from his attitude and the occasional second glance at Jameson,
most everyone was leaving us alone.

Having just won the series championship in his rookie
season, there was no shortage of recognition anywhere we went.

“Plates
...
yes,”
Jameson smiled. “
...
hey look
...
beds. How clever with the name and all,”