Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (69 page)

Simplex asked that I come, since they were sponsoring the Outlaw Showdown this year. This meant I had a little sweet-talking to do.

Standing there, I had my suit wrapped around my waist with a wet t-shirt clinging to my body. It probably didn’t look appropriate but if you’ve never been on the East Coast during the summer with 103° temperatures and
  high
humidity, you’re not missing anything. Nor would you understand why I was standing in front of around five thousand fans sporting a wet see-through t-shirt.

I let out a small chuckle as they recapped my career.

“This young man standing here beside me
...
” Richard’s hand grasped my shoulder shaking me slightly. I smiled wider and the cheering from the crowd intensified. “He started racing at four. By the time he was six, he had won two Regional Quarter Midget Nationals, moved onto the Deming Speedway Clay Nationals at nine
...
then the Triple Crown, dozens of track championships
...
Chili Bowl
...
the list could take up an hour of our time here but what you all want to know if who this kid is
...
right?”

By their screams, they knew me all right.

Richard smiled and pretended to clean out his ears with a quick shake of his peppered hair.

“Looks like they know who you are already?”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” I laughed. “Maybe they have me confused with someone else
...
?”

“Do you think this is
...
Jameson Riley
?” the fans were literally all standing on their feet screaming. I think I said this back when I won in Rockingham, but I was utterly amazed at how popular of a driver I became overnight.

Richard went on to talk about the Winston race. I kept my comments short and nothing that would come off as rude. When asked about “Rowdy Riley” and Darrin, I simply replied with: “It’s just racing. Anytime you put forty-three drivers together, tempers flare. It doesn’t go beyond that, it’s just racing.”

“So you two get along outside of the track?”

“I wouldn’t go that far
...
”

The crowd screaming dissuaded Richard off subject and I was able to sneak away for the pill draw and then heat races. I ended up just one tenth off the track-record, which my dad set. This left me starting on the outside of the front row with him.

It felt good to be out here and still competing competitively still. You can’t understand the feeling you get when you can successfully switch to a completely different series, and win.

I loved being around my “dirt-buddies” as I called them. Even though I was now technically considered Tyler and Justin’s boss—it never felt that way. We were just a bunch of friends going back to our roots that night. Or at least I was going back to my roots, they never left.

And even though I wasn’t racing with them anymore, times hadn’t changed that much. Justin was still considered “Wicked West” and could pull slide jobs on some of the best on dirt.

Ryder remained the “Beast from the East” and then there was Tyler. His racing had taken off and soon got the nickname of “The Sleeper” because he had the ability of waiting until the last second and then coming on strong like wild fire.

Another kid that caught my eye was Mark
Derkin’s
grandson, Shelby
Derkin
. He was a sixteen-year old kid out of Richmond Indiana. The kid lapped most of the 360 division in his main and could have easily qualified for the B-Feature in the 410 class if he had the power. Part of me wanted to hop into a 360 and see what this kid had to offer. This just goes back to the side of me who always wanted to race with the best.

Why?

Because the only way to see how good you
are is
to race against the best.

After the drivers meeting we hung around my dad’s hauler waiting for the features to begin when a few girls made their way over.

There was one I looked at twice, thinking it was Sway. They could have passed for twins, though I doubted she had Sway’s witty traits.

The girl smiled when my eyes focused on hers and she was pretty but was not who I wanted. Returning the smile, I turned away from her silently letting her know I
wasn’t
interested.

Next thing I knew, her arm snaked around my waist as she leaned against my side.

“You’re Jameson Riley, that NASCAR driver
...
right?”

“Last time I checked.” Giving her another half-smile, I shifted away from her embrace.

“So are you sticking around after the race?”

“Nope,” I answered vaguely.

When I looked back at her and her friend, it dawned on me just then who the other woman with her was.

It was Ami, as in Justin’s Ami.

“All Outlaw drivers need to report to their cars.” The intercom system announced throughout the pits. 

Thank god!
I thought to myself. It was getting harder and harder to get away from these pit lizards.

Our cars were pushed onto the front stretch and then we walked through the grandstands and down toward the flag stand where they introduced us by our qualifying order. Justin walked past me so I nudged his shoulder.

“Was that Ami?”

“Yeah,” He grinned widely. “I saw her about a month ago when I made it out to Elma for that Modified Nationals with Tate.”

“So are you guys
...
”

“Not sure
...
but she’s here
...
that has to be a
good
sign, right?”

“Clearly, you’re asking the wrong guy on that.” I chuckled adjusting my hat. “Have you not seen me around Sway?”

“Oh I have.” Justin nodded. “But you didn’t fuck up the way I did. I broke her heart and now
...
well
...
I couldn’t live with myself if I did it again.”

“Don’t then.” I ventured.

He snorted as we filed in beside the stage they set up for us to walk across. “Nice advice.”

I didn’t get a chance before the roar of the fans and fireworks drowned us out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you wanted the best you’ve got
em
’ here. Let’s introduce your starting line-up for the Outlaw Showdown, the heavy hitters of the World of Outlaws!” the announcer drew out in a deep enthusiastic voice. “Starting on the inside of row one, we have the King, your very own, fourteen time champion
...
Jimi Riley!”

“Starting on the outside
...
the son of the King and NASCAR’s Rowdy Riley, none other than Jameson Riley!”

Tipping my head at the crowd, I smiled when they roared to life. Dad turned around, glaring. I’d clearly gotten more cheers than him. He threw his hands up in the air at the crowd before they admired their champion.

Laughing, he pulled me into a headlock.

Like I said, it was nice to be around my dirt buddies. I considered them my family, yes my dad technically was, but Justin, Tyler, Ryder, Tommy
...
they were all my family in some way.

“How’d the car
feel
?” Tommy asked sometime after the heat races. He was running around making sure all of us had the right setups.

“When I lift, I got instant stick, maybe too much.”

Tommy went right to work on the adjustments.

When we finally started the feature, dad was all business. He was leading the series with Justin a close nine points behind him. He had no room for mistakes and I almost felt bad about being in the mix with the point leaders but I also knew if any of them had the chance to race cup and compete at those levels I had been, they wouldn’t question it.

So why should I?

Engaging the coupler, I signaled to the driver, letting him know I would be taking off. The car roared to life. The sound is absolutely addicting. Nothing sounds like or feels the way a sprint car does.

Even my cup car was nowhere near the consoling meditation that a sprint car provided. I think the best part was the feeling I got just being out here, around the dirt track again. It was exactly what I needed. The dirt, the methanol, even the sunscreen worn by the women, all reminded me of a time Sway was with me, a time when everything was so much simpler, though I’d never taken the time to appreciate just how simple it was.

That was until around lap thirty something of the feature and I ended up tangling with Tyler on a re-start. He blew a right rear tire and took me with him.

It was no one’s fault—he didn’t make it blow. Sprint cars are so temperamental that the tiniest change in that stagger I’ve talked about sends them flying without a moment of warning.

Being upside down was the least of my worries. I was more concerned about the methanol pouring onto me. The problem with methanol burning is that it burns invisible, no flame or smoke. If a fire happens, you can’t see it to put it out. But you can feel it burning you.

I started thinking of all the ways it could catch on fire. Certainly, it could reach a spark but that wasn’t my concern because the engine wasn’t idling. My fear was the 800° headers it was pouring onto as well as my racing suit. So while there was no obvious spark for it to come in contact with, the headers were another story. Methanol has a flash point of 385° so the 800° headers were starting to concern me.

Safety crews were scrambling around me, searching for injuries and frantically asking me if I was all right.

“Riley, are you okay?” they repeated that a few times before I could answer.

I nodded and gave them a wave. It wasn’t like they could hear me with all the cars running past. Even on pace laps, they produced quite the sound.

Motioning toward the fuel tank behind me, I said. “The fuel is pouring on to me. Can you get me turned over?”

That got them going. The wreck happened right in front of the pit bleachers so both Tommy and Spencer were there to help get the car turned back over. My skin was burning from the methanol that soaked through my fire-resistant suit. It may not have ignited but it was still something you didn’t want on your skin.

Knowing me, what kind of mood do you think I was in having a substance on my skin?

Not a good one, but that was all but forgotten when Justin held off the King of the Dirt for the win. My car, a driver I hired and my friend—won that night. The only feeling greater than winning, was seeing a friend win. After celebrating for three hours, I called it a night when that determined pit lizard from before starting hanging on my arm.

“Jesus Christ, you stink!” Spencer grumbled once we were inside the car.

I inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing better than racing fuel.”

On the way back that night, I drove with the windows down as the methanol was a little strong when confined. With the night’s air, the warm summer breeze blew throughout the mini-van. The freight trucks hum drowned out Aiden’s obsessive talking and Spencer’s intolerable snoring.

Being back on the dirt tonight confirmed one thing for me—I couldn’t wait any longer.

My stomach was in knots that night when I made the decision—a decision that was essentially eleven years in the making. Still
...
my will wavered and probably would until I saw her again.

I had commitments now, obligations, fans, sponsors
...
the list endless and if I thought it would get easier; I was in denial.

So when would I ever get a chance for me?

Sure, I loved what I did, this was what I always wanted and worked so hard for. Racing was my life, my passion. Somewhere between the
time
I left home to chase this dream, and now, I felt something missing and it was her. The one that changed everything I thought I knew with one look.

For the longest time, I ignored the fact that I was in love with Sway for one simple reason, what if she loved me back?

If I didn’t want to lose her, how long would I let this go on? I have only ever had physical relationships. How could I have more?

Just simply being my friend came with a price tag—imagine if she were more? How would that affect her life and how could I do that to her?

I knew my life would never be normal but I wasn’t about to take away any sense of normalcy that she had away from her. How could I? Sway never had a say in anything and Charlie proved that.

Was it fair that she would soon have responsibilities that no twenty-two year old should have? No. The difference between her and me was that I asked for this. I knew the sacrifices I would have to make and was
prepared
for them from the beginning. She wasn’t. She had no idea of the pressure and opinionative populace that was out there. Being pessimistically jaded, I didn’t want her to know that side of the world but I soon wouldn’t have a choice and neither would she.

Consequently, I knew my decision was wrong but I also knew that if nothing in life was free, then I was
ready
and
willing
to pay anything for her happiness.