Page 55 of Happy Hour

“So what’s the deal with you and Darrin?” I handed him his water bottle.

Just by the constant media attention surrounding them, I knew the gist of the rival but still, there seemed to be more to it than the standard “rubbing is racing” term.

“He’s had it out for me since Daytona.” Jameson answered. “Before the race, his girlfriend, Mariah...well let’s just say she made it known she wasinterested. I didn’t respond to her advances or anything but she told Darrin that I hit on her.”

I’d never seen Mariah before, but now, I felt the need to know what this woman looked like. She was probably beautiful like all the other pit lizards wandering around the track on race weekends.

“Seriously, she did that?” I asked incredulously, my eyes wandered to the passing cars headlights. Briefly, I was reminded of our time spent traveling together that summer, how different is seemed now.

“Yep,” Jameson shifted in his seat again and switched hands on the steering wheel, turning towards me with his shoulders. “She’s a bitch and he’s a real fucker onandoff the track, well, you saw.” He threw his right hand up in the air before letting it dangle loosely over the wheel. “Not only did he wreck me back in USAC but once I got to cup he spun me around on pit road in Phoenix and then ran into me after the fucking race in Dover. Each week it’s something else. You saw the Winston...” he sighed in frustration. “It’s hard to believe in a sport with guys that are supposed to be professionals—he can get away with that. I still think he was behind the fuel additive in Charlotte.”

“Has Mariah talked to you sense then?”

“No,”

I knew Jameson well enough to know he hated the drama of all this. He only wanted to race, not embroiled with the trivial high school bullshit that came along with some of the other drivers in the series.

Our conversation continued like this for a while until we arrived back at the track, I was surprised to see that we didn’t pull in towards the paddock.Instead, he turned and drove towards the garages.

“Where are we going?”

“You said you wanted aride.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Did you clear it with NASCAR?” you couldn’t miss the excitement in my voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckled at my enthusiasm. “Gordon said it would be fine.”

I’ve always wanted to ride in a cup car and could hard to mask my excitement.

I was giddy as hell when he strapped the helmet on meandnervous as hell when he pulled on the track. He stopped the car on pit lane and shut the engine off to explain some rules he apparently had.

I was scrunched on the passenger side, which if you’ve ever seen the passenger side of a cup car, there was not one.

Crammed in between roll bars, the discharge nozzle for the fire extinguisher and me were gettingrealacquainted.

Jameson pulled his helmet off so he could talk to me, running his fingers through his distraught mess of hair nervously. “Now, this isn’t safe at all, so Iwon’tbe going full speed.”

“No, no, no...I want the full experience.” I shifted my ass a slightly to get the nozzle out. “Fuck safety.”

He chuckled giving me a lopsided grin. “We’ll see about that...now, if for some reason we...uh...crash,” he shook his head at the thought. “Just...hold on to anything you can.” He gave me a tortured expression. “This is a bad idea Sway, maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jameson. When have we ever doneanythingthat was a good idea?” I was trying to emphasize our situation.

“Good point,” he loosened his belts. “I’m not wearing these if you don’t have any. So, let’s see...” he gave me a wicked smile and stared at me for a moment. “Just hold on tight, honey.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on my helmet, flipped my visor down, and put his back on.

Taking note of his every move, he flipped switches and then shifted the car in low gear keeping his foot on the clutch revving the engine a couple times.

Craning his neck to look over at me, he winked once.

I couldn’t focus on anything with the revving, the roar alone vibrating my girly bits in averynice way.

It wasn’t lost on me though that we were doing something incredibly stupid. Here Jameson was paid millions each year to race and he’s taking his car out for a joy ride with no belts. It wasn’t exactly the smartest decision either of us had ever made.

All thoughts were lost when he revved the engine once more.

There’s something to be said about the sound of a stock car revving to life, I can’t explain, it’s a sound but it’sthesound, if that made any sense at all.

I bit down on my lower lip when the car began to move at a slow speed down pit lane, then on the apron of the track.

---