The Legend (12 page)

It’d been
my experience that people who made themselves out to be some sort of god on the
track really had no clue how to handle the goddamn car if it became ill
handling.

My theory
was right after Bristol.

The more
time I spent around Paul, the more he annoyed me. We’d had our run-in’s in the
past but this year we had more and it seemed to be coming to a head.

Unfortunately,
for me, he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d just signed a five-year contract with
us.

And as it
turns out, there was someone out there even more mentally unstable than me.

Who would
have ever imagined that?

Throughout
the Cup season that year, Paul and I had been getting into it on the track. At
the shop, it was worse and in team meetings, we actually got into a shoving
match.

It seemed
Paul had a problem showing that “respect”. The thing I talked about so often.
He somehow felt it was okay to cut down on me with only inches or to bump draft
in the corners at Daytona.

Being my
teammate now, I sat him down and told him this would stop happening. Did I
mention I was part owner of Riley-Simplex Racing now? So yeah, this would stop
happening if Paul wanted to keep his spot on the team. Screw his five-year
contract. I would find a way out of it.

“You know
that I own part of this team, right?” I said to him after a team meeting at the
shop in Mooresville when he told me I had an attitude.

He smiled
reaching for the door but kept his eyes on me.

“I don’t
say that to be cocky, but, well, if you want to continue with this team shit
needs to change.”

Again, he
smiled. Here’s something most fans don’t know. When another racer spouts off
after a race that he will be getting another driver back for his on track
aggression, this is usually false representation. If he says nothing, expect
the payback when you least expect it.

Paul being
as hungry as the next driver, and on a 56-race losing streak, didn’t feel too
threatened by my response and tried his “cutting down” trick again in Bristol.

One thing
I had learned about Bristol over the years that most hadn’t figured out was the
track. It was as if Bristol was my own personal playground so to speak. I knew
every corner and every crack on that surface. I could set the fastest lap
without trying and could win on any given night with a fifth place car if
needed. So, when Paul came down on me entering turn two at the night race
there, he had a rude awakening.

I checked
up, let him come down and then passed him on the high side,
roosting
the marbles as I drifted into turn three to take the win.

He smashed
so hard into the inside concrete wall he had to be taken to a nearby hospital
because they thought he did some damage to his head.

Did he
ever pull that move on me again? No.

Would he
be searching for another job next season?

Without a doubt.

In my
mind, if you couldn’t respect your own teammates, you had no reason to be out
there. Even back in my rookie season, I also respected, and still do, my
teammates. Hell, I respected every driver out there until they gave me a reason
not to. Paul gave me a reason. I like to think that most understood where I was
coming from with Paul but most didn’t. My dad did, for the most part. It was a
constant question debated with the media and one interview with my dad had a
lot of impact on the situation.

“That’s
Jameson,” he told the media after Bristol. He spoke slowly and with a passion
we understood. “No one can take this from him and not expect a fight. Like it
or not, he’s ruled by his heart whether you guys wanna believe that or not.
While my son is practical to a point, he’s impulsive but that’s Jameson. Deal
with or don’t. I don’t really care.”

I loved
that my dad stuck up for me and more importantly that he spoke the truth.
Something the media knew nothing about. My family, the people I surrounded
myself with, when the bell rang, they were ready and willing to stick up for me
and fight for what they believed was true.

Much of
this debate between Paul and me resulted in a few meetings with me and my dad,
mostly because he was searching for another driver for next season.

After the
team meeting Tuesday morning, following that Bristol race, Dad, much like my
grandpa Casten, kept his praising to a minimum. When they did offer it, you had
better take it to heart.

I can’t
say he was thrilled about it but these days, he wasn’t making a lot of sense to
me when he replied with: “Don’t waste it Jameson. You’ve got more talent than I
ever had. I mean that.”

I tend to
think he was still on pain meds from the hip surgery. There was no way he’d say
that lucidly.

I was
annoyed when dad left for his bingo game, I’m sure he wasn’t playing bingo
these days but what else would he do if he wasn’t racing? All the boys at the
shop joked that he played bingo.

After
Bristol we also did another inventory. Mulling over the latest results, I
noticed things weren’t adding up. Between Paul, my crazy dad and now this
inventory, it did nothing for my mood.

Sway came
walking in right after that, upset with Emma about something I couldn’t exactly
pinpoint what had her angry only that she was mad. I was already riled up from
the penalties handed down from NASCAR yesterday that I only heard half of what
she had told me.

Sway stood
there looking to me for a response when I asked, “What?” to a question I hadn’t
heard.

“Jameson
...
you, oh never mind.”

Here came
my temper. My fist slammed down on the desk I was sitting at knocking over my
cup and a handful of picture frames. “No!” I shouted furiously, “Don’t fucking
do that.”

“Do what?”
she asked just as angry that I had yelled at her.

“Act like this
and not tell me. Don’t do that to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it
unless I know.”

“It’s
nothing you need to fix.” Her tone grew angry. “Besides, you weren’t listening
in the first place.”

“Apparently
it is if you felt the need to mention it and I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

She
smiled. The smile that made it all better but I could tell she was just as worn
out as I was these days. Sway was helping with Axel’s fan club and trying to
get Casten through school. Arie had decided school wasn’t for her so Sway was
trying to make her decide what she wanted to do with her life. Right now that
meant nothing but sleeping until noon every day, tattoos and speeding tickets.
I wasn’t okay with her not going to school. She was sixteen and she needed to
graduate high school. To prove her point and to piss me off, she got her GED.

I’m not
sure why my little girl had turned into such a little rebel but I was sure her
new boyfriend, Brian Tyler, had something to do with it.

All this
was stressing us out to the point we were now yelling at each other. Sighing, I
gazed at the inventory again and then back to Sway.

“You wanna
get away?” Before I even finished the sentence, Sway was nodding in agreement.

The NASCAR
schedule freed up and allowed for yet another week break that summer in between
races, I decided it was time to spend it with my wife and not at a track.

We decided
to make a quick trip to Costa Rico, Sway loved it there. After all the
arrangements were made, we told Casten and Arie, who at fourteen and sixteen
were fully capable of staying alone in the house.

“Where are
you two going?” Casten asked looking at the bags in the foyer.

“Costa
Rico,” I told him. “Stay out of trouble or I’ll ship you off to boarding
school.”

“Sweet,”
he nodded ruffling his thick rusty waves that fell in his eyes. “I was thinking
of having a party.”

“No you
weren’t.”

“Actually,
I was. It’s time I had a house warming party.”

“Nice job,
you ruined it for yourself. I’m staying here.” I sat down on the bags crossing
my arms over my chest. “No party for you.”

Casten
shrugged carelessly, “Your loss really.”

Oh
goddamn him.

In the
end, we ended up going and had Spencer keep an eye on the kids. That was our
first mistake. Our second was allowing Emma and Aiden to come with us.

Despite
that, any time I was alone with my wife, I forgot the rest of the world even
existed. I didn’t think about my obligations, or racing. That’s a lie, I did
think of racing. But I focused more on racing in general and why I loved it so
much. My point was that when I was with Sway, she made me not only focus on her
but the bigger picture of the sport I loved so much.

We flew
commercial and I wasn’t impressed. Over the years I have been forced to fly
commercial a handful or times. Thank god for that. This was definitely one of
those aspects about my life that I would say was bragging rights. I hate
airports and more importantly, their security.

I wasn’t
going to take a bomb on the plane but it didn’t stop them from assuming I was.
I understood their position but they didn’t need to be so intrusive. When they
made Aiden remove his socks, I was sure he felt the same way.

My other
problem was naturally, my sister. She knew she wasn’t allowed to take her
lotion on the plane in her carry on so she stuffed it in mine. You would have
thought that small bottle had an explosive substance in it at their reactions.

After
making it through security, Aiden wasn’t happy, Sway was upset with a group of
teenage girls who were entirely too flirty and Emma, her mission seemed to be pissing
me off and she was doing a great job.

“We don’t
fly all that well,” Sway said to Emma as we approached the terminal. “One of us
always gets in trouble.”

“Word to
that,” Emma gave her a nod. “Last year Aiden was arrested in San Diego because
of an altercation with security.”

We were
walking through the jet bridge to board now, Aiden a few steps ahead of us
looked back to glare at Emma, annoyed.

“What kind
of altercation?” Sway asked.

 I
tried to keep myself busy once in our seats. I hated hearing their
conversations almost as much as I hated traveling with Emma.

Emma
buckled herself in next to Sway. Aiden sat beside her next to the aisle leaving
me to sit near the window.

“They made
him take his socks off in the metal detector.”

“I don’t
see how this is important.” Aiden added digging through his bag for what I
assumed would be his anxiety medication.

Don’t
think I wasn’t tempted to take some myself.

Emma
patted his head and handed him water.

“Why would
taking his socks off be a problem?” Sway seemed entertained by this and
instigated despite the fact that Aiden was now popping pills.

Aiden is a
great spotter; maybe even the best in NASCAR but the dude had issues.
Indecisive, anxiety, ulcers, you name, he has it.

“He always
wears socks.” Emma crossed her legs getting comfortable. “Even when we bone he
has to wear them. He’s really weird about it.”

“Emma!”
Aiden reprimanded. “Don’t tell people that. It’s private.”

“Nothing’s
private in this family.” I added reaching for my phone in my pocket to send
Justin a text message wishing him luck in Sharon Speedway tonight.

Aiden
caught the flight attendant by the arm when she walked past us. “Can you please
get me Rum ‘n Coke?”

“Yes sir,”
she replied, her arm draped over his seat. “Anything for you…” realization hit
her when she looked at me, her smile grew. “…Mr. Riley?”

“How about
you get my wife and sister’s drink’s first?”

Sufficiently
chastised, she looked at Sway and Emma. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have
a Jack on the rocks. No coke.” Sway didn’t look up from her iPad but instead
mumbled a reply.

“What are
you looking at?” Judging by the screen it appeared to me that she was planning
activities for our four days in San Jose Costa Rica. I didn’t like activities
on vacation.

Sway
flipped the tablet over darting her eyes from mine. “Nothing,”

“Listen,”
My voice dropped leaning into her shoulder. She looked at me. Raising my left
hand, I tucked strands of her flowing mahogany hair behind her ear. She leaned
into my palm, her eyes closed. “All I plan on doing is making love to my
beautiful wife and do naughty things to her body.” I took a drink of my Jack ‘n
Coke the stewardess handed me and put my moist lips at Sway’s ear, my hand
cupped her cheek and then moved behind her head to knot a handful of her hair.
Securely in my grasp, I breathed in her ear. “I’ve been placed into drive and
my compression is increasing. I need my girl badly.”

Moaning
softly, I could feel her relax beside me and smile. Beautiful emerald green
caught mine. “No activities?”

“No
activities,” I repeated. “…unless of course we are naked in bed. Then I’m all
for the naked activities.”