The Legend (22 page)

Because of
this, it forced the drivers to become more interactive with the fans. They
needed their votes to race.

Jameson
had issues with that. He would always give a fan the attention they deserved if
he had the time and it was the right atmosphere. It wasn’t that he didn’t
appreciate them because he did. He just wasn’t as friendly as Tate and Paul
were. He also never believed the hype surrounding him. He was simply Jameson.

Tate has
always been a fan favorite, winning the most popular driver every year since
2012. Jameson, he was too controversial for that. You either loved him or hated
him. If you hated him, you didn’t understand him. His relationship with his
fans over the years was sketchy but most loved him because if any driver in the
series would put on a good show, it was Jameson. He was the type of driver that
would put everything he had into every lap. Even if it was the middle of the
race, he fought hard for every spot.

Drivers
like Paul Leighty and Nathan Wise or even Brody Williams, the rookie this year,
was where it got interesting. They were all good drivers but they lacked the
heart Jameson had.

Jameson,
Paul, Bobby and Tate were trash
tralkin
’ all night
while the weather had its own competition. Winds, rain, lightening, you name
it, and Delaware was experiencing it. It was crazy. It was as if mother-nature
wanted to cast her own vote. Up until the start of the race, we had no idea if
they would even be able to get the race in. Over the years NASCAR had discussed
going to rain tires and letting them race in the rain but it was decided that
they would keep with the tradition of the sport and that meant no rain tires.

That
afternoon, the boys sat around the haulers watching the weather and viewing
rain scanners all trying to predict the next twelve hours.

Gathered
at a table right outside the hauler, everyone tried to keep under the awning to
avoid the rain, or better yet the edge of the awning that would get you right
down your shirt at the most inappropriate times.

Sitting on
the edge of the table, Jameson twisted around and tapped the screen with a
Sharpie marker, the cap in his mouth as he signed autographs for a group
surrounding us. “That’s not
lookin
’ good man,” he
said mostly to Bobby who was seated next to him.

“Ah hell man,
have some faith.” Bobby said with a smiled looking at the screen with a whole
lot of green flashing. “There’s one little patch right there with no rain. With
any luck, we’ll have that over the track come race time.”

Jameson
laughed turning back to the crowd nodding his head. Regarding the fans with a
laugh, he joked with them. “He’s always so optimistic.”

The crowd
laughed continuing to push posters and photographs at him. It never got easier
watching pit lizard horde around my husband. Though I was a confident Mama
Wizard and knew that he only had eyes for me, it wasn’t easy watching women
touch him ways I only did. Every so often one got brave and would reach out to
touch his arm, or shoulder, or even his leg. Every time, he politely removed
their hand. He didn’t like being touched by strangers. I think it had to do
with his weird skin phobia.

Aside from
touchy feely pit lizards, the other obstacle on weekends like this was the
press. They were everywhere you looked.

All the
local sports channels covered the voting and driver reactions, even interviewed
the fans. Viewers for the race skyrocketed and it turned out that more people
watched this particular race than those who watched the Super Bowl.

The voting
was open for twelve hours, started at 8pm Friday night and ended at 8am
Saturday morning. The results were announced at 10am. After that it was a mad
dash for drivers and crews who were selected to practice and test out the cars.
They had up until 2pm to make changes. The driver introductions began and the
race format was revealed to the drivers for the first time by the fans. Once
selected, that’s all the drivers knew. Race format wouldn’t be revealed until
later for the purpose of them not having the jump on anyone else. Some teams
would set their cars up for the main but wouldn’t know how many laps it was so
you couldn’t set it up for a long run when you never knew if you would be
running fifty lap’s verses two hundred.

The fans
voted on everything; how many drivers were chosen, if there would be an
inversion and when and how many cars would be inverted. One thing was set in
stone; it was run like your average Saturday night race at the local tracks.

You had
hot laps, qualifying, heat races, trophy dashes, and then the main event.

This year
it had been decided that there would be twenty-four drivers chosen. This meant
nineteen drivers went home.

Among the
selected were Tate, Bobby Cole, Paul Leighty, Travis Sheets, Brody Williams,
Steve Frey, Nathan Wise, and of course Nadia, the only woman driver in the Cup
series. Jameson and her still didn’t mix well and I couldn’t stand to be within
five feet of her.

They set
the schedule for four heat races with six drivers for ten laps each. Six, four
lap trophy dashes with four drivers and then two fifty lap main events. Between
the two fifty lap mains, they would invert the field. The catch her was that
you didn’t know where the inversion would take place until the caution came out
at the end of the first main event.

Prior to
the race while the guys made adjustments to the cars, me and the girls headed
to the merchandise trailers to promote. Usually we had people that helped with
this but for the sake of the event, and the moral, the family ran the
merchandise trailer. I think it added to the entire event letting the fans get
to see the drivers families and understand that we were behind them 100% and
did everything we could to help them.

Nancy and
Emma were the most cheery. They bounced around like this was their home with
sweatshirts and hats on. Arie and I were less entertained by this and more by
Alley and Lexi.

“He just
sat there in the closet chugging a fifth of Vodka like nobody’s business.” Lexi
told Arie as they organized the t-shirts and posters with Alley and me. Alley
gawked at her but looked back at the merchandise trailer looking for Cole who
we still hadn’t found. We lost him sometime after qualifying. Casten claimed he
was with Jacob, Tate’s son but no one knew for sure.

“Did you
sleep with him?” Arie asked Lexi. It was my turn to gawk at my daughter.

“Arie”

“What
mom?” Arie shrugged, squinting into the bright lights, she folded a t-shirt and
then set it on the pile with the rest of them. “I’m curious.”

“Oh yeah,”
Lexi gushed with no reservations. “I liked his confidence.”

Alley gave
me a look of complete disgust. Our girls had sex lives and it wasn’t
comforting. I actually hated thinking about my little girl, or worse, my son’s,
being sexually active.

“I hate
knowing all these details.” Alley said with no amount of excitement.

“Word to
that,” I nodded watching our family. It made me smile to see us all like this,
working together for our team, our open wheel team. Always ready for some good
side-by-side action.

It wasn’t
long before music was blaring from the infield and the stage was being set up
like this was some kind of rock concert. In all actuality, it could have been
with the way they were followed.

A familiar
sound echoed through the stands and across the track they called the Monster
Mile, hence the name of the event, Monster Million.

The girls
and I closed down the merchandise trailer and walked from the paddock to the
infield where we finally found Cole, with Casten and Jacob, planning their
activities for the night. Apparently they’d been told they could go on stage
when the drivers were introduced.

“This is
gonna be cool. I bet all those girls will talk to us now.” Cole said motioning
to what looked to be a fucking cheer squad at cheer nationals.

“Why?”
Casten snorted. “If they don’t like you now, they
ain’t
gonna later.”

Jameson
approached me dressed in his racing suit now, sexy as ever. The black in the
suit always made his eyes look like they weren’t real. No one had grass green
eyes like that except two other boys, our two boys.

Let me
tell you a little about my husband over the years. When I first met Jameson, we
were eleven. Through high school, we were best friends. After high school was
when my visions of this knobby kneed, compulsive boy who dominated any dirt track
within a hundred mile radius of Elma Washington, changed. His determination,
his hunger, his eyes, all completed a package no women could ever resist. Never
bothering to calm his hair, he had that wild mess that they loved with rich
brown shade that was slightly rusty in appearance and looped out into curls at
the ends. Like now, as he wore a white hat, the loops curled out under the hat.

Tall, with
just the right amount of muscle, he had a body honed to perfection. A charming
captivating smile that could capture anyone’s attention and the burning fire
that marked his eyes sealed the deal. Well, for most women. I saw what was
behind that fire. I saw Jameson Anthony Riley. A boy that went from your
hometown dirt track racer to a man who had his name engraved into fifteen
NASCAR championship trophies and countless record books.

Because of
his presence in the sport and the women that followed it, insecurities will
build at a rapid pace at times like this if you let it. I didn’t let it.

The clouds
had rolled apart, the first glimpse of sun all day peeked through as we stood
in the infield. I knew Jameson was near when I head the crowd come to life.

He stopped
in front of me, his body in line with mine. Ignoring the crowd, something that
was hard to do these days, Jameson ran his left hand up my arm until it reached
my face. He cupped my cheek with one hand and then raised the other. Two
fingers motioned for me to come closer.

Naturally
Mama Wizard leaned in and he grinned, a perfect lopsided grin I’d grown to
love.

Thousands
of people were standing near us but we saw none of them.

“Honey,”
he whispered in a low rasp drawing my attention only to him. Jameson’s voice
had always been slightly raspy but over the years it’d gotten more so to the
point where it could send shivers down my spine just by saying hello. Lightning
ran through my veins, electrifying, his gaze caused sparks that lit the way to
a place I knew well. It was like running at a Saturday night race at your home
track.

He leaned
forward slowly until his lips touched mine, a quick intake of breath, a cool
breeze on a hot day; it was exactly what I needed.

He pulled
back a little, staring at my lips and a whoosh of air left his beautiful lips.

To anyone
else around us, we were just two people. I was just a wife and he a husband,
two people in love. To anyone else, it was just a moment.

To us, the
two people wrapped up in the moment, it was everything in that moment. A hold
only a man and woman knew a hold that we knew.

His face
dropped, his parted mouth met the curve of my neck. “I love you.” He murmured,
his lips pausing at my ear. My hands ran over his shoulder, my fingers tracing
the logos of sponsors who trusted this man as much as I do. “And I love you,”

Over the
years, his demeanor and reactions to the fame have changed but he still wasn’t
comfortable with it. This, kissing me in public, wasn’t something he was
comfortable with either but he did it because moments like this were sometimes
all that was left for us.

“Listen,
if you fuck this up, I will fucking stab you.” It was that statement that burst
us from our bubble.

“Casten!”
I screeched slapping my sons shoulder.

“What?”
Casten shot me a glare and then quickly reversed it when he realized who he was
dealing with. It might have had to do with Jameson giving him a look too. “He
needs to be on his game. I’m not lying.” He turned to Cole again. “I will stab
you family or not.”

Jameson
laughed rubbing his shoulder as he remembered his own stabbing. “Ask Emma, she
could help you out with technique if needed.”

“Shut up
asshole.” Emma bumped her knee into Jameson’s ass as she came up behind him,
Aiden followed her.

“You ready
for this bud?” Kyle said coming to stand beside us. Jameson hands crept around
my waist to keep me near him. I didn’t argue and instinctively, like my own
favorite track, a place I felt at home, I felt contained here in a crowd full
of people as long as he was touching me.

Jameson
nodded and the pre-race activities got under way soon after that.

We stood
in front of the stage ready to cheer on the drivers and their teams.

I had
never laughed so much in my life when the doors opened, smoke, fire, you name
it and Casten, Cole and Jacob emerged wearing tall pimp hats with handfuls of
one dollar bills strutting to the likes of The
O’Jays
For the Love of Money
with twenty four NASCAR drivers, their dad’s
included, walking behind them laughing.