Page 50 of Happy Hour

Pressing his hips against mine one last time, he let out a deep sigh before rolling away. “Damn it,”

Once he was dressed, we made our way to the garage where Jameson forgot about me turning him down. Instead, he was focused on the race car now and the job he has to do.

Well until Nancy approaches us. Chipper as always, she bounced into the garage area, her rusty hair pulled back under her Simplex hat.

“Oh Sway,” She breathed reaching for me. “You’re here again.”

“Yeah, I’m going home after Sonoma.” I pulled away and handed her the posters Jameson signed earlier this morning. “Just taking a summer break after college,”

Jameson walked over to sign a few die-cast cars for the Children’s Hospital Nancy brought with her.

“Jameson,” Nancy said sternly, her green eyes glaring. “Now, I don’t ask a lot from you at home because you’re rarely there but Iexpectyou to respect our home while you’re living in it.” She poked his chest with a black sharpie. “I expect you to clean up your bedroom and fix the closet. What the hell happened in there? It looks like a gang bang took place.” Nancy stood there waiting for an answer.

Rubbing the spot his mother poked, Jameson let out a loud laugh as my cheeks began to heat rapidly. “Well a “gang bang” implies a group of people. There was only two.” He replied still signing the various items Nancy was handing him.

I giggled when he said “gang bang” because he resorted to air quotes to get his point across.

“Well,” Nancy actually looked somewhat relieved that her son didn’t have a gangbang in her house. “just clean it up.”

Once she walked away, Jameson started laughing walking back over to his car to get ready for his first practice session.

This weekend they were racing at Pocono Raceway in Long Pond Pennsylvania. It was a two and half-mile track with three turns, each with its own degree of banking, making the set-up tricky at times. Most people call it the superspeedway that drives like a road course. Jameson liked the track but it wasn’t his favorite. He preferred the mile and half and the short tracks saying it reminded him of his dirt track days growing up.

I sat on the pit box with Kyle when Jameson went out for practice listening to the in-car audio.

“You copy bud?” Kyle asked when Jameson made it onto the track.

“Yep,” Jameson confirmed while the radio crackled.

God I love that radio voice! It’s like the damn whispering thing he does...You need help Sway. Maybe even therapy when you get home.

“All right Aiden—he’s all yours.” Kyle said. “Let me know how the car feels bud.”

The first few laps were quiet while Aiden and Jameson talked back and forth guiding him through any traffic that was out there. They seemed better.

Jameson and Aiden had been friends for the past few years now—I’d hoped that something like this didn’t get in the way of their friendship and so far, it didn’t seem like it was going to. That’s the cool thing about men other than the fact they get to stand to pee. Once they express their anger for someone and get what they need off their chest, they seem to forget all about what went down. Women should take some pointers from them.

I watched as Jameson got loose in turn three, the car jerked sideways and brushed the wall, Kyle cringed beside me. “Damn it.”

“Brushed the wall, turn three.” Aiden announced. “No damage.”

“Looks like you got your hands full there.” Kyle looked over the lap times on the computer. “What’s the car doing?”

Jameson was quiet for a moment and then came on. “I’m all over the fucking place. I can’t keep the damn thing straight. I can’t drive in as hard in three but I can go anywhere I want in the other turns.”

“Bring it in.” Kyle told him. “We’re gonna put it on the scales and change the springs.”

After another two laps, Jameson brought the car in the garage and the crew went to work on the adjustments.

Lounging around in the garage area, he talked with Tony, the tire specialist, for a few moments. He thought something felt off about the tires they were using but Tony assured him they were the same.

Jameson was involved in all aspects of the car. That stemmed from Jimi. Growing up Jimi made it clear Jameson couldn’t just drive the car. He had to understand the cars, be able to build them and fix them when needed. In a way, that’s what made Jameson the type of driver he was today.

Most drivers just drove these days but Jameson could do just about anything to a race car and there wasn’t anything he couldn’t drive the wheels off. His understanding for how everything worked together and his ability made for a lethal combination on the track.

While I waited for him to finish-up explaining the handling of the car to Kyle and Mason, Alley walked into the garage, her heels clicking against the concrete.

“Is he done yet?” she asked annoyed. She looked pissed.

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