Page 39 of Happy Hour

Jameson laughed softly staring at his feet as he pulled his hat down further shadowing his eyes. “Yeah, I guess that’s the saying.”

“So let’s talk about this season. You won your second start in Rockingham; you won the Winston andanotheron Saturday night at the Coca-Cola 600! Do you think you have a chance at the cup title this year?” Kim asked.

“I think we do. The win last night put us only sixty-three points behind Darrin Torres. I wasn’t sure how competitive we’d be in our first full season with it being a new team but I think we have a shot at it.” Jameson said nodding his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Now we heard NASCAR dropped that hefty fine they handed out on Saturday night. Can you tell us about that?”

“There’s not much to tell.” He shrugged. “As far as I know, the fine was dropped because the test turned out to be inconclusive.”

I think she knew he wasn’t going to give her the inside scoop so she finally let up.

“Well Jameson, thank you for coming and good luck with the rest of the season.”

Jameson stood, shook her hand politely, and then headed for the door without another word.

Once we were back in the car, I realized his mood was still the same.

He didn’t look at me, just drove towards Mooresville. The drive wasn’t long buteventuallywe started talking again.

Half way there, Jameson plugged his iPod into the stereo and put it on shuffle. He had a vast music collection of Van Morrison, Eagles, Linkin Park andeverysong by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

One particular song,Simple Man, came on and Jameson began to sing along.

He had an amazing smooth but raspy voice that could leave any woman a puddle of oil in his drain pan. And let me tell you, he could do one hell of an Eddie Vedder baritone.

This particular song was one of Jameson’s all-time favorite songs. It was a relaxing and held a special meaning for him. He always said he listened to it when he needed to remember where he came from and as I sat there and listened to him singing along, the truth behind the lyrics was easy to see.

A few verses caught my attention, similar to thePurple Rainsong and I knew there was nothing behind him singing that particular verse louder that the rest of the song but again...a pit lizard could dream.

My hand was resting lightly on my knee when Jameson shifted in his seat reaching for my hand, pulling it to his lips to place a tender kiss on it. “Does it hurt?”

“Huh?”

Does what hurt? My crankcase? Yes.

“Your hand,” He clarified.

“Oh that...uh...no, not really,” I smiled briefly. “You owe me a million dollars though.”

“Pft,” Jameson shook his head. “I said aspring, not your hand.” He kissed my knuckles once more. “Though I am proud you punched her. I would have but it’s frowned upon to hit a woman.”

“Frowned upon? Really?”

This seemed to have broken the ice between us again and the rest of the drive was filled with laughter and witty remarks, our usual selves.

We arrived back in Mooresville around ten that night and Jameson’s mercurial mood had returned.

Now, he was now planning his attack on Alley for the mini-van and walking in on us.

If there’s one thing I could say about Jameson and his practical jokes on people, it was that he never did them half-assed.

We eventually agreed upon a plan of action and called Kyle to have him order it, insisting on the part being overnighted.

On the way to his parent’s house, we stopped byBurger Kingbecause we were both starving. I was so exhausted by the time we got there and thankfully, Jameson’s parents weren’t home so we didn’t have to explain why I’m there, well for tonight anyways. I was sure there would be questions when I arrived in Pocono with him.

His parent’s house was huge. It literally reminded me of something you’d seen on MTV cribs, only built for a racing family.

The house was situated on fifteen acres, complete with a quarter-mile oval track in the backyard, a pool that could house the Olympics and enough bedrooms to accommodate a small village.

---