Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (51 page)

I tried once again to contact Tate but of course, it went straight to voicemail so I left yet another message of: “Hey dude it’s Jameson. I need to speak with you, call me,
please
!”

Tate had been avoiding my phone calls since that night in Sonoma and I had an inkling he would be for a while. The fucked up part about it was we’d been friends for three years now. How he could believe that deceitful bitch over me was appalling. What’s worse was that he had the nerve to call Marcus up without even speaking to me about it first.

Who does that?

Still fuming over my interactions with Bill and Marcus, I was now on the way to Loudon New Hampshire
with
my dad—not exactly my idea of fun.

He was once again giving me his insight whether I wanted it or not.

He only had a few hours before he needed to be in Nebraska for a race tonight so he
insisted
on flying with me. Like I said, this was not my idea of fun. It wasn’t that I didn’t like my dad; it was that I didn’t want to hear what he had to say today, that’s all.

Quietly keeping to myself looking over paperwork, I moved on to signing autographs for the Dartmouth Children’s hospital, trying to avoid conversation that would likely result in the any man worth his salt speech again. Hell, I was still confused from the last one.

Avoiding him the best I could, my silence was over quickly.

“What the fuck!” Jimi yelled across the cabin towards me.

Why he was yelling when we were not more than three feet from each other wasn’t my main concern. The vein pulsating in his neck is far more troubling at that point.

“How did you do $25,000 damage to a
fucking
golf cart?”

“What?” My eyes didn’t move from the posters.

I already knew the look I was receiving. It was the same look I got when I threw the baseball through his car windshield, while driving, because he wouldn’t let me have a Happy Meal. It was the same look I got when Spencer and I glued Emma to the wall of her bedroom and left her there for an afternoon. And it was the same look I got when I took my sprint car out for a spin on the high schools running track
during
the home coming football game.

“Do golf carts even cost that much?” he wondered and then shifted his eyes back to me. “You need to grow up!”

I laughed feeling his penetrating gaze upon me. “Spencer wrecked the other one.” I defended finally looking up.

It was the same look.

“I expect that from him.
Well fuck
, I expect that from you too but regardless, stop it.” His eyes bulged again. “I’m not okay with this.”

“I won’t wreck any more golf carts.”

His eyes narrowed for good reason. “Or haulers
...
and motor coaches.”

“Or haulers and motor coaches.” I agreed with a grin attempting to lighten his mood.

“Don’t get cute. I’m not amused.” He let the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile but corrected it quickly. “You need to be medicated.”

“Do not.”

“Yes
...
yes
you do.” He tossed the bill from Glen Brooke Golf Course at me walking to the rear of the jet grumbling again about getting a DNA test done on us.

In my head, I silently added up everything I’d been charged with in the last few weeks as far as destruction went
...
$25,000 for the race, $34,000 for the hauler, $16,000 for the motor coach, and then the $9,000 for the hotel room. My eyes focused on the recent bill from the golf course, $26,000. I was certainly no math whiz but that was a hefty tag.

Maybe I did need medicated?

It was either that or I was going broke.

When I arrived in Loudon, it was a whirlwind of press, appearances, and interviews. That was just on Wednesday. After a
very
long fourteen-hour day, I was finally in my hotel room and missing my girl like crazy so I decided to call her.

She answered on the first ring greeting me cheerfully. “Hey there handsome,”

“Hey beautiful,” I rasped, my voice was shot. It sounded like Christian Bail in those
Batman
movies. “How was your day?”

“
Ohhh
,” Sway giggled. “someone had a long day but I’m digging the voice.”

“I’ve missed that giggle, honey.”

“I’ve missed you. I had to spend the day with the devil’s spawn. Little fuckers shaved Mr. Jangles.” she seethed. “He looks like the bear off that Great Outdoors movie—you know the one with the shaved ass?”

Laughing, though I was the only one laughing, she continued to tell me about her day. When I lied back on the bed, I felt something under me. Reaching behind, I fished out a package addressed to Jameson Riley Fan Club.

Emma must have dropped it off so I opened it and out spilled about a hundred envelopes from what looked to be fan mail. Skimming through a few, Sway told me how Lucas also pierced Mr. Jangle’s ears with safety pins while Mr. Jangles purred away.

“I’m not sure who should worry you more, Lucas for doing it, or Mr. Jangles for not scratching the shit out of him.” I teased and gasped loudly when I realized that
all
these letters were from Chester—the male prostitute from jail.

Afraid of the contents, and feeling slightly nauseated, I shoved them all back in the bag and placed it on the floor a good ten feet away.

I may or may not have covered it with a blanket as well.

“I’m not sure who to be worried about either but I’m gonna say the Lucifer twins.” Sway agreed while I made my way back over to the bed. “A couple hours ago Logan brought out my vibrator and proceeded to play Star Wars with Lucas while we ate dinner.”

I was silent for a second trying to comprehend what exactly she just said when I heard Sway take a deep breath.

“What’s the matter, honey?”

“I just
...
miss you.” Her tone was desperate. “And they’re making me insane.”

“I miss you too,” I whispered in a low voice that I knew would calm her down. “
Now,
back to this vibrator
...
” Then I let the full force of my voice loose on her, knowing the effect it could have.

“You’re not allowed to use that voice if we can’t have sex.” Sway warned.

“You know,” I whispered purposefully. “Just because I said we can’t have sex
...
doesn’t mean we can’t have phone sex
...
and I
really
wanna talk about this vibrator you have.” I hedged.

Sway moaned loudly. “You’re killing me.” I could hear rustling on the line and imagined she was lying on her bed, already feeling the tightness in the pit of my stomach in anticipation.

“What are you wearing?” I asked in a deep voice that sounded funny to me with how gravelly I’d become. “Come on honey; don’t get shy on me now.”

“Nothing,” her voice softly flowed through the line.

“Wow, that was fast,” I replied.

“I just got out of the shower. Logan got glue in my hair so I spent the last hour in there trying to get it out.” She sighed. “It will be a miracle if I don’t kill them.”

“How about you focus on something else,” I suggested removing my clothes and getting in the bed. “Like
me
...
back to this vibrator. How long have you had it?”

Sway blew off my questions about the vibrator as if she never mentioned she had one in the first place. “That sounds like a swell idea
...
what are you wearing stud?”

“Nothing now,”

“Ah, I’m good.” Sway giggled. “Two minutes into this and I already have you naked.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.” I groaned as my hand slipped under the sheets. “Now this vibrator
...
where’d you get it?”

“Why don’t you tell me.” her voice was dripping with sex.

Throwing my head back against the pillow, I found it hard not to fly across the states and show her exactly what she was doing to me. “Fuck Sway. I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me right now.”

“Do you have a fantasy?” she asked. I could tell this was turning her on—I knew my girl well.

“Besides fucking you on the hood of my race car?” I answered immediately. I’m sure my arousal was evident in my thick tone. “You know, I fantasized about that one for years.”

“Oh, fuck me!” she panted.

My one thousand square foot hotel room was filled with our breathy moans, panting, and dirty talking. It felt wrong, and it felt as though I was slipping back into what we had before but in the reality of it all, that was Sway and me.

I had no doubt in my mind that once Sway was here in my arms, I would show her how
this
was different, how
we
were different, over and over again.

The next morning when I woke up, I was met with Spencer
...
in my bed. Yeah, that happened and sadly, this wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Jumping back, I reached for the blankets since I was in fact still naked. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” I barked at him.

“Alley kicked me out of the room.” He mumbled rolling over to go to sleep.

“So you came here
...
what would inspire you to do that?” I pushed him off the bed and reached for my jeans on the floor.

“Dude!” Spencer grumbled when I showed him my bare ass. “I don’t need to see that!”

“Stay out of my room then.” I countered yanking my jeans on. “Why’d she kick you out?”

I don’t know why I was asking, it’s not like I actually gave a shit why she was mad at him. After all, this was a daily occurrence.

“She’s
still
upset about my new haircut.”

I laughed rummaging through my bag to find a t-shirt and socks. “That’s what you get for letting Aiden cut your hair dumbass.”

Though it took some convincing, I got Spencer to leave and made my way to the track to start the race weekend. It was going to be a long one without Sway here.

With the restraining order on Chelsea and her glued to his hip, I struggled to get Tate alone the last few days between practices and qualifying. I couldn’t go anywhere near him with Chelsea there.

At the drivers meeting, she wasn’t around so I tried my luck there.

Never being one to beat around the bush so to speak, I walked up to him when he was with Bobby and Paul. Seeing me standing there, Bobby and Paul left leaving Tate and me in the corner of the media center.

“What do you want, Riley?” Tate glowered at me with his arms crossed over his large chest. The light colored shirt he was wearing made his dark eyes appear darker. “What?”

I stared at him for a moment. Once I was standing there face-to-face, I had no idea what I wanted to say. Eventually I settled on, “I want you to hear
my
side of what happened.”

“I already know what happened.” He turned to walk away.