Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (58 page)

He winced as I felt around his wound. It was bleeding but not terribly. Probably because the fork was still in there. Once it was pulled out, I was sure this would need stitches.

“If you haven’t noticed
...
it’s fucking raining out.”

I could tell he was pissed but he didn’t need to be mean with me. I wasn’t the one that stabbed him.

“Why are you yelling at me? I didn’t stab you!”

Jameson gingerly rose from the floor using the wall for support, panting. “I’m sorry
...
god
, it hurts so fucking bad!” He groaned holding up his forearm with his left arm, careful not to let the weight of it his pull on his shoulder.

“I think we should pull it out.” Lucas suggested jumping up in a chair he pulled over. “Can I do it?” he asked bouncing, his eyes wide and excited. “Please, can I do it?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jameson seethed backing away from him. “
Don’t
touch me!”

“Okay, both of you,” I motioned to the boys. “No one touches Jameson. He’s got
...
” Eyeing his protective injured stance, I settled on, “anger issues.”

Emma moved closer to Jameson but he backed away. “Jameson, I’m really sorry. Like,
really
sorry. I thought you were Carol Anne.”

“Who the hell is Carol Anne?” He snarled still not letting any of us close to him. He reminded me of an injured animal who wanted nothing to do with humans. I wondered, though briefly, if he’d crawl off to die alone.

“From Poltergeist,” said Emma with a careless but still timid shrug.

“That’s a fucking movie
...
it’s make believe you shit head!” Jameson snapped. “I swear to god Emma, if I can’t race
...
I’m stabbing you.”

“That’s a little harsh,” was Emma’s reply.

“No one is doing any more stabbing.” I yelled breaking up their silly fight and needing to collect my thoughts. I couldn’t focus with all this yelling and accusing. “Let’s go Jameson. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no
...
you’re not leaving me here alone with them.” Emma objected pointing at the Lucifer twins while they tormented Jameson.

“Fine,” I groaned. “All of you get in the car.”

“
No
,” Jameson interjected immediately. Just the very thought had made his face pale, or so I thought. “I’m not going anywhere with stabberally over there
...
fuck no.” he shook his head violently. “No fucking way.”

“Don’t be a jerk.” Emma smacked Jameson on the shoulder, the bad shoulder. “I didn’t mean to stab you!”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Jameson screamed dropping to the floor. “Get the fuck away from me, Emma! I will pull this out right now and stab you with it if you touch me again.”

“Why are you being so mean to me?” she asked getting in his face again. “I said I didn’t do in intentionally.”

Jameson stepped forward as though he was actually going to take revenge on his little sister.

“Enough!” Stepping between them, I motioned for everyone to get out of the house. “We are
all
going to the hospital. Now get in the car, right now.”

At that point, I’m assuming I looked a little like the Exorcist or something similar because no one questioned me again and piled in my Charlie’s Expedition to begin our journey to Grays Harbor Community Hospital.

Jameson whined the entire way about how bad it hurt as the kids, including Emma, egged him on. I wanted to warm him this was probably the
best
part of it, just imagine how he’s going to feel sitting at Grays Harbor Community Hospital for hours waiting for them to pull their heads out of their ass long enough to help us, but I didn’t.

One bad situation at a time.

Around three in the morning, we finally arrived at the hospital and the Lucifer twins were out cold in the back seat, along with Emma, so we left them in the car.

Jameson was pleased.

He insisted I go inside with him, so I did. He insisted I stay right beside him because he was convinced he was going to be attacked somehow, so I did. He insisted I go back with him when the triage nurse was looking over him, so I did. But when he insisted that I go to the vending machines to get him skittles, I drew the line. Not that I wouldn’t get him skittles but he was being a
huge
baby about this entire situation. It was just a fork. If it was a knife, I may be a little more sympathetic, maybe.

Jameson sat there complaining about Emma stabbing him, the kid next to him sneezing on him, and the avid NASCAR fan that grabbed every brochure from around the hospital and had him sign it.

“How long does it take to get seen?” Jameson grumbled as he adjusted himself in the chair next to me again. “This is just unacceptable. We have been here for three hours. My god, I’ve been
stabbed
, how is that not an emergency?”

“Try four. It’s Grays Harbor Community Hospital, what did you expect?”

“I don’t know
...
” he laid his head on my shoulder. “It hurts.”

“You’re such a baby.” It might have been rude but I went ahead and said it anyways. “It’s a fork, not a knife.”

“Let me stab you with a fork and then we’ll see how much a baby
you are
.” He retorted glaring and then his expression softened as that familiar smirk appeared. “You know
...
I’ve always wanted to do it on an exam table.” He told me waggling his eyebrows at me. “Wanna be my naughty nurse?”

“No.” I stated firmly even though this image was already present. “We are
not
doing it in here. How does your mood change so fast? I think you may be bi-polar or something.”

He grinned wider as an attempt to soften me.

I was not softening. “No,” I shook my head at him trying not to reveal my own smirk.

The avid NASCAR fan returned with yet another brochure for him and Jameson snapped. “Dude, come on.
Seriously
? You can’t see that I’m injured and signing autographs is slightly difficult?” He motioned with his head towards the fork still sticking out of his shoulder.

The man shrugged handing Jameson the brochure.

He reminded me of a taller version of Jack Black only he was not funny. If anything, he was annoying. I mean really, did he honestly think this was an appropriate time to be asking for an autograph?

“Jameson Riley?” a nurse called out, a folder tucked under her arm.

The man walked away when Jameson pushed the brochure back at him and said, “Go away.”

All things considering, I couldn’t blame him for denying the autograph.

“
See
, we can’t do it, they’re calling your name.” I smiled and kissed his cheek.

Helping him up, we walked behind the counter to the nurse who smiled at Jameson. “Hello, I’m Debbie Sloan, your nurse.” She reached out and touched his forearm. “So what are you here for?” Debbie asked once we got inside the room adjusting her stethoscope around her neck and clicking her pen.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Jameson asked not amused.

Debbie giggled clicking obsessively. “Yes, sweetie—I’m kidding.” She opened his chart. “So let’s see, you’re Jameson Riley
...
wait,” comprehension quickly followed. “as in the race car driver?”

Jameson, who had been staring at the exam table, imagining god knows what, met mine eyes for a moment and then went back to Debbie. I could tell just by that quick glance, he was a little apprehensive about answering.

Shifting in the chair, he answered with a nervous chuckle. “Um
...
yeah, I’m him.”

“Oh, wow. How exciting! My daughter would kill me if she knew we were treating Jameson Riley.” Debbie reached for her notepad. “Can you sign this for her?”

Poor guy, he could never escape this.

I could tell he was irritated that he couldn’t even get treatment without people bothering him for an autograph.

“Yeah, sure,” Jameson reached for the paper. “What’s her name?”

“Dana, she’s obsessed with you. She’s been to like seven races this season.” Debbie giggled. “Now that I’ve seen you in person
...
I
see
the attraction.” She honestly appeared to be undressing him with her eyes.

It wasn’t lost on Jameson, that’s for sure.

He stood up backing against the door. “You
...
um
...
what’s your daughter look like?”

Does he think he knows her?

“Here,” Debbie shoved a picture forward.

One glimpse at it, Jameson was out the door and running to the car muttering, “No fucking way
...
nope
...
not happening. Let’s go Sway—I’m not being molested at a damn hospital.”

Running after him, I caught up with him about the time he reached the car. “Jameson
...
what about the fork?”

He stopped suddenly, took a few deep breaths in preparation and then reached over and yanked it out. Then fell to the pavement, screaming in pain.

Though blood was pouring from his shoulder, I completely lost it in a fit of inappropriate piss yourself laughter. I laughed because this headstrong cocky man, who could handle anything, couldn’t handle this obsessed fan or her nurse of a mother, so he resorted to extracting the fork himself.

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” Lucas grumbled rolling down the window. “I could have slept in my own bed,
jerk
.”

Still giggling, Emma rolled down the other window just enough for her head to peek through. “What’s going on, are we leaving?”

“Jameson’s afraid of the nurse so he pulled the fork out.” I motioned to Jameson who was still sprawled out on the pavement.

He looked like he was about to vomit. In the injured animal manner again, his face his completely white, his brow furrowed together, scowling and his jaw clenched tightly as he curled into himself.

“I wasn’t scared of the nurse
...
” he moaned loudly bringing himself to his feet. “That’s Dana’s mom!” he pointed towards the hospital. “No fucking way I’m letting her touch me.”

Right about then was when Emma pointed towards him laughing hysterically, and the Lucifer twins just looked at us as if we’re all crazy.

The entire ride back to my house Jameson sulked. Emma randomly started laughing every now and then, and the Lucifer twins continued to poke at Jameson’s shoulder, asking him repeatedly if it hurt when they touched it.

He ignored them for a while but after twenty minutes, Jameson finally turned in his seat, glaring at them. “I don’t care if you’re six-years old. When this fucking car stops, I’m getting out and I will rip your tiny little arms off! Then what? Huh?”

Neither said a word, just gaped back with wide panic-stricken eyes, as was I.

I never thought anything would make those little shits speechless.