Page 119 of Happy Hour

Now the only reason they were telling me this was because I ran across some legal documents on the counter that morning while making breakfast. Those legal documents consisted of a title transfer of Grays Harbor Raceway to a one Jameson Anthony Riley of Mooresville North Carolina.

“How long?” I asked my voice just above a whisper. The tears hadn’t stopped since I saw the name Jameson Anthony Riley. “How long did they give you?”

Charlie looked at me for a long moment; his voice broke as he uttered the words. “Six months...or less,”

Shaking my head violently, I tried to comprehend what he was telling me but at that point, I was beyond handling anything.

I was numb and the one person I wanted here with me wasn’t.

Charlie moved to sit next to me. “I know this is hard, baby.” He leaned in placing a kiss to my temple. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but how do you tell your only child that you’re dying?”

I just nodded knowing he never intentionally wanted to hurt me. Hurting me was the last thing he wanted to do. I understood completely why he had reserve for not telling me. Here was a man who had to bury his childhood love at twenty-five and raise their only daughter himself. Of course, he had reserves for telling me.

“Having Jameson take over ownership of the track was to ensure it stayed in rightful hands.” He added. “He’s young and knows how to run a business.”

This track meant everything to Charlie and me. When his world was shattered by the death of my mother, this track pulled him together. It gave him a reason to go on and brought us together in a time when we needed each other most. I had a feeling this was also Charlie’s way of ensuring that I had something to distract me. I’d be too occupied with the operation of the track to grief his death.

Nodding again, Lucas and Logan, Andrea’s six-year twin boys, barreled into the room. Andrea had moved in recently to help take care of Charlie—her son’s came along.

“Why is she crying?” Logan asked taking a seat on his mom’s lap. “Did your boyfriend dump you?” he smiled at me. This wasn’t a smile you’d see on a six-year old...it was an evil smile.

It was something similar to the Joker in thoseBatmanmovies.

In that moment, I did something completely juvenile and stuck my tongue out at him in sheer desperation.

This went on for a while, this little shit tormenting me while Andrea tried to get him to leave me alone, but he didn’t and soon his brother, Lucas, joined in until I was at the point where I was going to snap their tiny little heads off. So I grabbed Jack from the cabinet and headed for the track.

This track had helped me through so much over the years and I knew I’d find peace there, with Jack Daniels. Jack never let me down; he was always there for me.

An hour later, Jack definitely didn’t let me down.

You realize what your life has become when you’re sitting inside a sprint car in the middle of the day drinking Jack Daniels directly from the bottle and talking to that bottle like it was your best friend.

In between shots, I could hear the gravel crunching beside me, and then a heavy dramatic sigh of disappointment.

“Is that you Jack? Why are you disappointed in me?” I stared at him wondering what he could possibly be thinking, running my fingertips down his dark label.

“Judging by that bottle in your hand, I’m assuming he broke your heart?” I looked up and saw Alley—at least I thought it was her—my vision was a tad obscured.

At that point, I could be hallucinating.

“Jack didn’t do anything.” I laughed attempting to stretch my legs. “He’s a poor innocent bystander.” I stroked his neck in reassurance so Alley didn’t offend him.

Alley sighed again ripping him from my hands. “Not Jack—Jameson,” She stepped back to look at me. “Whose car is this?”

“I don’t know...I’m in a car?” My head lulled to the side feeling the results of Jack.

Looking around, I realized she was right. No wonder I was so scrunched.

Before I became a permanent fixture, I decided to extract myself from the car. Once I was out, I fell to the gravel and dirt beneath me.

Alley picked me up—at least I thought it was her—it smelled like her.

Leaning against her, if you classify most of your weight on that person leaning, we walked. At least I thought we were walking. I needed a lot of assistance just to put one foot in front of the other. It seemed Jack did a number on me too.

“So what did he do?” Alley asked.

I reached for Jack again but she pushed my hand away. “Who?”

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