Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (68 page)

A smile flickered across Sway’s lips. “That would be nice.”

Running my fingertips over her warm flushed cheeks, I thought about how sick she’d been. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh
...
okay, I guess. I’m actually hungry.” She sat up in bed, pulling on my t-shirt from last night. You could smell bacon being cooked in the kitchen downstairs. “Let’s eat before you leave. Andrea cooks a bitchin’ breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kissing her once more, I made my way to the bathroom for a quick shower as she headed downstairs.

Once dressed and my bag was packed, I joined her at the kitchen table. Emma was up now, sitting beside Sway, eating. I pushed her off the stool when I walked past, stealing her bacon as I did so.

“You’re such an asshole!” Emma snapped, picking herself up.

My eyebrow arched in response, challenging her. “Really
...
” I laughed. “I’m the asshole? Do you not remember
anything
from last night?”

That shut her up.

Fixing a plate of food, I took notice in how much Sway was eating. Her plate was piled with food and she seemed to be holding it down, which was a good thing.

“I think you have a tape worm or something.” I took a seat next to her. “Where does all that food go?”

“In the toilet,” Emma laughed. “it’s not like she’ll hold it down.”

Sway’s nose scrunched at Emma but continued to scarf down her bacon and eggs. Sure enough, ten minutes after she was finished she ran to the bathroom. I was about to go after her when she slammed the door shut.

“Will you stay here this week?” I asked Emma, setting my plate in the sink. “I’m worried about her.” Leaning against the counter, Logan came strolling in exchanging a glare with me.

Emma gave me a strange look while Andrea smiled at me. “Yeah, I’ll stay with her.” She held out her hand. “Can I have your credit card?”

“What would make you think I would
ever
hand you my credit card?”

“For payment,” she set her plate in the sink. “If I’m staying here, you
should
reward me.”

“You’re reward will be me not going home and burning all your favorite clothes for the shit you’ve put me through.” I responded patting her before making my way down the hall to check on Sway.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly opening the door. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Sway slumped against the wall beside the toilet.

“Yeah, I think maybe I have the flu.” She fumbled with the hem her shirt to avoid looking at me directly.

“Hmm
...
I guess Lane had it.” I felt her forehead. “Maybe you caught it from him somehow.”

I really didn’t think it was the flu. I had a feeling it was something else but didn’t say anything. Seeing those very same symptoms in Alley, all the signs were pointing to her being pregnant.

When Alley was pregnant with Lane we were all still traveling around together in my truck, which made for some interesting trips.

There were times when I was moments away from volunteering to ride on the roof rather than sit next to a hormonal Alley for sixteen hours in a day.

I didn’t want to freak Sway out, so instead I smiled reassuringly at her. “Maybe you should
...
go to the doctor.” I suggested pulling her up into my arms. “Just to make sure you don’t have something else.”

“Yeah, I think I will this week.”

The thought that she might be pregnant, with my child, had me glowing as much as her. I wasn’t ready for kids but if they happened, they happened. I knew Sway was on birth control pills, I saw them the morning after we first slept together. That right there made this even more confusing to me. If she was on the pills, there was no way she could be pregnant?

Maybe she does just have the flu.

Ughh
...
my cell phone beeped twice, reminding me of the real world waiting for me.

“I have to go.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll call you went I get to Sarver.”

With a few more lingering kisses,
after
she brushed her teeth, I headed for Olympia to begin my busy two weeks, without Sway.

As with any time away, my focus then was solely on racing.

“The car is shaking real bad. My shifter is vibrating like a son of a bitch. I wanted to see if it was all of us?” I asked Cole around lap two twenty of the Brickyard 400.

This week had flown by with my numerous commitments and now here I was, on race day, trying to piece together an ill handling race car. It could have been worse. The last two races the engine had blown way before lap two hundred, so I guess in all actuality, we were doing good if you considered running eighteenth good.

“It’s all of us.” Cole finally answered. “I can barely get the car in fourth without slippin’ off the shifter.”

I used to love Indy but lately, it only served back memories.

Last year, I raced in the Busch Series and pegged the wall in turn three, nearly sending me to the hospital with a concussion. The year before that, I raced here in a USAC midget and flipped it seven times on the backstretch.

This track hated me.

There was still a chunk missing from the outside barrier where my car landed upside down on it during that USAC race.

Somewhere around lap three hundred, we were doing better,
until
the caution came out.

Kyle came over the radio after the pit stop. “Too fast entering, come back in bud.”

“What?” I slammed my fists down on the wheel. “You have to be shitting me? I came in on fifty six like I have all goddamn race.”

“I know,” Kyle replied. “Harris and Cole are being held too,”

“It’s bullshit!” I yelled back heading back to pit lane for my stop and go penalty.

Air pressure, track changed, shoddy pit stops, a handful of cautions for debris, the entire race went this way and I wasn’t surprised to see I finished thirty-second.

If I kept this shit up—we could forget about any chance at the championship. As I sat right now, with four DNF’s I was now fourth in the race for the championship, not good in my mind.

With a new team, I understood the time for transition but this was out of our control. I still felt we were unstoppable but I also couldn’t see past the frustration in the heat of the moment.

When my anger past and gained some composure, I walked back to the motor coach to gather my bags and then head to Orlando.

Bobby stopped me, his expression similar to mine. “Hey dude, how’d you finish?”

“Thirty-second,” I mumbled pulling my sweatshirt over my shoulders and began walking again. “It was rough out there.”

“You did better than me; I ended up thirty-eighth.” Bobby kept step with me. “I wanted to talk to you about Darrin.”

“Oh yeah,” I turned towards him. “What about?”

A few lingering fans at the entrance to the drivers compound pushed forward for autographs to which we offered.

“I’ve heard some things in the garage
...
looks like he’s out for blood this time.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked grimly, tired of this shit. Everyone wanted to warn me about Darrin but had nothing to warn me about, no hard evidence as to what he had planned.

“He wants to end you career, Jameson.”

“Oh,” I said sarcastically stopping outside my motor coach. “And how does Darrin plan on doing that?”

“By wrecking you
...
” Bobby’s brown eyes held nothing by worry. “Listen Jameson,” he shifted his weight, deciding his delivery. “I’m not one to get caught up in this bullshit of he said she said, but when it comes to my teammate, a person who I have the utmost respect for, I pay attention. I
know
Darrin—I’ve known him since my days racing quarter midgets. You’re not the first person he’s threatened their career with. And if he succeeds, you wouldn’t be the first person whose career was ended
by him
.” His expression was blank, his eyes gauging me.

“Who?”

“My best friend, when I was nineteen. We were racing out of Knoxville Raceway. Darrin and Kasey had been battling all season in the Silver Crown Series.”

“Kasey O’Neil?”

Bobby nodded. “The race wasn’t tapped so no one knows
really
what happened, but I was behind Kasey the entire time.” Bobby took a deep breath. “I watched as Darrin purposely clipped his left rear.”

Spencer walked out of the motor coach, leaning against the side as Bobby continued. “When Kasey’s car finally came to a rest against the guardrails there was nothing left. The roll cage failed and was crushed on top of him.” Emotion welled up in his eyes before collecting himself quickly. “He died on the way to the hospital from massive head injuries.”

“I heard about him,” Spencer said. “His dad races on the World of Outlaw series with our dad, Langley O’Neil, right?”

Bobby nodded. “Yep,” He shifted his feet and then looked towards me again. “Just be careful.” He stared at me with obvious doubt in his eyes. “I thought he hated Kasey, but Kasey was nowhere near the driver you are. I’ve never seen someone do the things you can do in a race car Jameson.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“I suggest you steer clear of him.” Bobby eyes shifted to Spencer who snorted. “If you run into him on the track, let him go. It’s not worth it.”

“I will not pull back.” I replied undeterred. “If he wants to end my career, let him try. I’m going to race him the same as I race any other driver out there.”

Bobby shook his head, frustrated. “I’ll see you in Pocono.” He patted my back, shook Spencer’s hand and then walked towards the heli-pad.

Here’s the thing, I’d encountered cocky drivers before and what I learned most was ignorance to the situation. The more you knew; the more frustrated and involved you became with them and failed to concentrate on
why
you were racing in the first place.

Once I landed in Orlando, I tried calling Sway but it was almost midnight her time so I assumed she was probably sleeping.

Aiden and Spencer came with me to Orlando and brought Lane. Once we landed, he was complaining about being hungry. Having a hungry 3-year old was something none of us were willing to deal with. This was how we ended up at an Applebee’s in the airport.

“Can you believe this fucking service?” Spencer complained looking over his shoulder. “It’s an airport, I’ll give them that much but seriously, I asked for a beer like an hour ago.”

“Keep your voice down.” Aiden hushed him when an elderly lady balked at his reaction. “You’re offending people.” Aiden’s eyes dropped back to the menu. He’d yet to figure out what to eat. After all, this decision usually took hours for him.

“They’re offended? Jesus
...
” Spencer snapped. “It’s not like I pissed in their potatoes.”

Ahh
...
it’s good to be around the boys.

“Jameson,” Spencer began slouching to one side of his chair. “What do you think of what Cole said?”