Page 5 of Happy Hour

I then began thinking of all the ways I could kill her off if that were the case. I couldn’t have another woman in the way, I just couldn’t. High school and Chelsea was enough for my sanity. If he had a girlfriend now, I’d probably be sent over the edge.

Alley knew how I felt about Jameson. Anyone who was intuitive enough would know by one glance how I felt about him.

She sighed throwing my bag into a black SUV, her eyes holding concern. “I just want to be sure you don’t get hurt.”

“Is he with someone now?” My voice betrayed me and cracked a little. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my breastbone waiting for the answer.

Alley shook her head. “No, not that I’m aware of,” She smiled. “I just wantyouto be careful.”

I knew Jameson had one nightstands—it was obvious. But since Chelsea, I hadn’t seen him in a “relationship” with anyone. And I wasn’t sure you could even call his time with Chelsea a relationship. It was more of the convenience for him.

Alley and even Emma, his younger sister, knew the way I felt but they also knew Jameson and thought he used me for his own advantage. Which I guess maybe he did from time to time but I didn’t care. I should have but didn’t.

She seemed to be waiting for an answer so I said, “I will.”

Clearly I was lying. I was never careful and hardly ever rational when it came to Jameson. Now wouldn’t be any different.

“Where’s Lane?” I looked around to see if he was hiding from me inside the SUV. Right about then I realized they wouldn’t have left a child in the car while inside the airport or at least I would hope they wouldn’t be that careless.

“He’s with Jameson at the track.” Alley frowned, her lips pursed. “The kid loves his uncle more than his own mother.”

I laughed because it was probably true. Alley and Spencer’s three-year old son Lane thought Jameson was the world.

Me, and this three-year old, we had a lot in common.

“It’s been an interesting morning so far.” Alley said conversationally merging with traffic.

“Why?”

“Well...the team was fined $50,000 for a fuel additive of methanol and ethanol.” I gasped mainly at the fine not the reasoning. “Gordon thinks the crew added it after qualifying.”

“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” My eyes darted to Spencer.

“Hey...have some faith.” Spencer defended. “I just found out. We’d never cheatlikethat. You know as well as I do NASCAR is very specific on rules—especially fuel and tires.”

I knew that. As with any racing division, they monitored both carefully as that’s where most teams cheated. But not Jameson, he never needed to. Every team pushes boundaries just as a child does. They test the authorities to see how much they give and take but there were still some things you just didn’t mess with.

“So in other words Jameson’s in a shitty mood?”

“Not since he heard you were coming.” Spencer said relaxing into the seat.

Well then.

The traffic on I-85 towards Concord was light as we made our way to Lowes Motor Speedway. I really wanted to see Jameson before the drivers meeting knowing once the meeting was finished he had interviews, driver’s introductions, and then the race. I remembered in Daytona it was hard to get a moment alone with him on race day with all the hospitality visits he had. After hearing about the fines, I wanted to be sure he was all right. For someone who put so much of himself into his racing, he always took this sort of thing hard.

Entering the pit entrance was surreal. I’ve been around racing my entire life, watched more races that I could ever remember, but to attend my first NASCAR Coca-Cola 600 race where my best friend was starting on the pole, was a feeling I couldn’t describe. There was so much excitement swirling around me with the fans sporting his number proudly, the news reports, other driver’s, and officials.

Jameson had made it.

To truly understand the exhilaration surrounding a race like this, you had to actually attend it. That’s the only way to truly experience it. The lights, the sounds, the smells, can’t be captured any other way than feeling it firsthand.

You see, this wasn’t some small town bullring dirt track where the pits consisted of an open field and the grandstands were wooden bleachers with missing rusty nails. This was Lowes Motor Speedway where the best racers in NASCAR battled it out.

As soon as Alley stopped the car next to Jameson’s motor coach, my door flew open but before I could escape, she grabbed my shirt tossing me back in the leather seat.

“Sway, you can’t just go run around looking for him. You need a hot pass.” She handed me a pass. “Besides, you’re small enough someone might mistake you for a lost child.”

“I thought I got a pass in the garage?”

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