Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (15 page)

Tell me you want me to stay because you love me.

He tilted his head to one side before answering. “Because, I need you here,” His eyes slowly met mine and I saw an emotion I couldn’t quite place again. It was as if he was begging me not to pry.  “I
...
you
...
keep me grounded.” He offered me a bolster smile, the restlessness from last night returned. “Come with me to Pocono and Michigan. Then we’re in Sonoma again
...
you can go back after that. It’s closer to Washington anyways.”

I groaned leaning my head against the headboard, looking up at the white ceiling. “What are we doing Jameson?”

“What do you mean?” He actually sounded confused.

How can one person be so clueless to this!

“This,” I motioned to the bed. “What is
this
?”

I have to know what he thinks. Does he want more? Will he ever want more?

I leaned my head forward again, looking into his eyes. That’s when I see that
this
isn’t going to be what I hoped but I also saw that emotion that I couldn’t place. He was hiding something behind those beautiful eyes.

“We’re friends
...
” he paused swallowing. “But I’d like to keep doing what we just did
...
I liked it.” He took a drink of water from the bottle he’d been holding, concealing his smirk.

“What if someone else comes along that’s not a friend and you want
that
with her?”

You sound like a jealous high school girl.

“That won’t happen.” His sounded almost disgusted that I asked that.

“You’re Jameson Riley—you have women throwing themselves at you. Why me?”

“Because Sway, you’re my best friend.” Jameson sighed again, leaning back against the bed on his elbows.

It distracted me when his shirt came up revealing the sharp lines of the hips leading down to the promise land.

Before I could get
too
distracted, Jameson’s voice interrupted me. “I trust you and I can’t trust anyone right now.” He leaned closer to me pulling my legs against his chest. “This can be fun Sway, let’s just
...
have a good time together. Keep it simple.”

Have a good time? Keep it simple?

Can you do that?
Maybe
.

Can you do this without getting your heart broken?
Doubtful
.

Do you want to have fun?
Absolutely
.

Do you want to stay with him?
Without a doubt
.

I’m so screwed.

I knew my reasoning is completely off and incredibly stupid. I knew I was going to get hurt but I decided, once again, to put Jameson’s needs above my own and reached for my cell phone to call Charlie.

The conversation with Charlie didn’t go as planned. And it wasn’t even his anger that upset me the most. It was the disappointment that I would be with Jameson again for a few weeks. I think his exact quote was, “Sway, he’s using you. It’s a shame that a girl as smart as you can’t see that.”

Way to make me feel like a complete asshole.

Despite all this, it didn’t change my feelings or way of thinking as this (indulging in too much alcohol once again) ended in me sleeping with my best friend. Wasn’t that what I wanted all along? Yeah, it was but just the thought of “friends with benefits” to Jameson Riley was freaking me out a little,
okay
, a lot. But then I thought about how much I wanted this. I didn’t want to be just another pit lizard to him; I would be more if it killed me trying. Stupid logic I know but fucking sue me. I was a woman on a mission.

Jimi had bought a Citation Bravo Jet last year, which made traveling for their entire family easier. Half the time Jimi was on the opposite side of the United States from Jameson and that made the jet nice.

The Riley’s still kept a home in Elma but they also had a home in Mooresville and Jacksonville Beach.

Jameson had recently started having a home built near his parents in Mooresville, or Dirty Mo as we referred to it.

Unfortunately, the house he was having built on Lake Norman, wasn’t supposed to be finished until December. This left him staying in his parent’s home.

He hated it.

When we walked outside the hotel to get the car Alley had rented for Jameson to get back to Mooresville, I burst into laughter.

Jameson, well he was
not
laughing. “You have to be kidding me.” He threw his bag down next to the Dodge mini-van and kicked the left rear tire.

Growling, he pulled out his cell phone to call Alley.

“You’re such a fucking bitch!” He shouted and snapped the phone shut. Turning towards me, he glared. “Get in.”

I couldn’t stop my laughter but eventually I got in when threatened to leave me there if I didn’t stop.

Much of the drive to downtown Charlotte was spent with Jameson complaining about the speed in which the mini-van refused to do, how he hated living with his parents, how he was going to get Alley back and if I thought anything was going on with Emma and Aiden.

Remembering my pact with Emma, I denied the accusations and conveniently changed the subject to something sexual.

He was easily distracted when the subject involved sex, what man isn’t?

“What did you mean when you said it’s been a long time?” I suddenly blurted out.

Jameson choked on his water he’d just taken a drink of. “Huh?”

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment and I whispered, “Nothing,” pretending to look out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Don’t do that.” He snapped back at me.

“Do what?”

“Ask a question like
that
and pretend you didn’t.” he too avoided looking at me as we pulled into the parking lot of the SPEED studio.

“Answer it then.” I said boldly.

“It has been a long time.” He shrugged indifferently.

Looking anywhere but at him, I asked, “How long?”

Jameson groaned loudly parking next to a red SUV. “Over a year,”

I laughed
...
scratch that, I giggled hysterically almost to the point of tears.

“You’re such a shit.” Jameson barked at me. “And how long has it been for you?”

I stopped laughing instantly. Oh, how quickly the red flag can be thrown.

“A while,” My cheeks burned.

He brought his right hand up to my heated cheek. “Don’t get shy on my now, honey.”

Damn him.

“A year, maybe longer,” I mumbled suddenly finding my hands very interesting.

I snuck a glance over at him and his face scrunched as if he was trying to think of something and then reached for his Simplex hat on the dashboard. “With who?” he asked quietly putting the hat on. Almost methodically, he adjusted the fit to the way he preferred it.

It was my turn to choke, but not on water, on my own breath at this question. “Huh?”

“You heard me.” Though the hat concealed his expression slightly, his eyes narrowed at me.

“You don’t know him.” I knew this answer wasn’t going to work but I tried anyways. I could hardly admit to myself that I slept with Mike, the guy who squealed like a pig when he came, let alone tell Jameson.

Jameson shook his head slowly, his eyes penetrating. “That’s
not
what I asked.”

It was useless. He’d get it out of me anyways.

“Mike Tanner.” I finally said after a moment of silence.

“Where’d ya meet him?” He reached over the front seat for the posters in the back.

“Skagit. He was racing outlaw late models there one night when I was there with Tommy.”

Jameson was quiet, eerie quiet, sitting next to me. The only sound was the squeaking from the sharpie marker as it drug across the posters. His jaw was clenched, body tensed. I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“Who was your last?” I tried breaking the silence.

“Couldn’t tell you,” He signed one more poster and then shoved them inside a white plastic Simplex bag. Still not looking at me, he shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “I never got her name.”

I’ve known Jameson for over eleven years; I could tell he was irate by the way he slammed the door of the mini-van when he got out. Why he was so upset over this was beyond me.

I’m sure it had something to do with Mike being a race car driver. I should have lied and said he was a construction worker or something but Jameson and I don’t lie to each other. We never have.

I felt badly for this poor Kim woman who was stuck doing the interview with Jameson. She started on the wrong foot by flirting with him.

What did Jameson do?

He said and I quote, “That’s unprofessional,” in a sharp demeaning tone and then follow it up with, “Besides, you’re not my type,”

And to think she still has to perform an interview after that.

Jameson could be a real jerk when he wanted to be and his demeanor could turn on a dime. Having experienced this first hand on many occasions, I sort of felt the need to apologize to everyone he encountered and tell them it was my fault, don’t take it personally but I didn’t. I just simply sat back and watched the hot possessive angry side of Jameson emerge for nothing more than pure entertainment value.

Waiting for the interview to began, I observed his behavior much like I did last night. These interviews, the press and media, weren’t part of the lifestyle he wanted.

His passion and immeasurable talent for racing created a life for him that he never asked for. A life and a following bigger than he could imagine, maybe ever wanted to imagine.

“Jameson,” Kim began crossing her leg over the other in the large director’s chair she was sitting in. “Can you tell us how you got started in racing? You’re only twenty-two, when did you start racing?”

I can just imagine how many times he has told this story over the years.

Jameson shifted in his chair and sighed before he began to tell his story, a story I knew firsthand as I was a huge part of it.

“Well let’s see, I started racing quarter midgets just before I turned five. My dad was racing in the World of Outlaw series so I learned a lot by watching him and the other drivers.”

“I heard you raced sprint cars too.” Kim smiled. “When did you start racing those?”

“I was eleven. My dad moved me up to sprint cars but not fulltime because you had to be sixteen at most tracks. So I continued racing midgets and sprints when I could. When I turned sixteen, I began racing on the Northern Sprint Tour and the USAC Silver Crown Series as well as the USAC Midget’s.

“The day I graduated my older brother, Spencer, his girlfriend at the time, Alley, my younger sister Emma, and my
...
” Jameson’s eyes met mine. “Best friend, Sway, traveled East with me. I raced in the USAC Divisions and The World of Outlaw series collecting trophies and winners checks just big enough to make it to the next track. I raced anything I could whether it was my car or for Bucky Miers and Monty Evans, both long-time friends of my dad.” Jameson leaned back further in the chair. “I drove; Spencer worked on the car along with a few of our buddies that would help out. Emma, Alley, and Sway helped in any way they could. That summer we ended up capturing the USAC Triple Crown title which is a national title in all three of the USAC divisions.”