Page 8 of Happy Hour

Jameson laughed setting me on my feet beside him, his arm wrapped around my waist pressing me securely to him.

“I can’t believe my best friend is a superstar now.” I mocked punching at his shoulder. “Will you sign my arm?”

His eyes narrowed at the willing appendage and before I could retract it in time, his tongue darted out licking me. “There’s your autograph.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

I looked down at my arm, coated with Jameson drool.

Did I wipe it off?No, not me, I left it there.

“You have the driver’s meeting in an hour.” Alley reminded him but kept tending to Spencer’s eye. I felt bad but only for a second, a brief second.

Jameson chuckled eyeing Spencer. “What happened to you?”

“Your best friend there decided to try and take my head off with a spring.”

“That’s my girl.” Jameson nodded in approval. A shy grin appeared like that of a small boy hiding a secret.

I fell a little deeper.

“Listen,” Alley smacked his shoulder grabbing his attention. “You have the drivers meeting and then introductions start at four. After the race you have to make an appearance at the Howl at the Moonin downtown Charlotte.”

Jameson turned towards me, a sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Did you get a hotel room or do you need to stay with me tonight?”

“Alley got me my own room.” I told him, hoping he didn’t catch the fact that I was giving him ogle eyes, also instinct for a pit lizard.

He smirked. “Well, I guess that means I have to return you to your room tonight.” For a moment, a brief moment, I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes.

With the way he looked down into my eyes, the rest of my internal components lined up on the same side as my heart and crankcase. We were all ready andwillingto do whatever Jameson Riley wanted.

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, Jameson.” I warned as he lugged me towards the garage.

The last time I got drunk with Jameson on my twenty-first birthday, I ended up with a tattoo on my ass of god knows what but strangely resembled his lips. He had a matching tattoo thatalso, strangely resembled my lips.

Actually, that wasn’t the last time we got drunk together. There was the time after the tattoos that we ended up doing body shots with Jameson puking in the parking lot for an hour afterwards.

Moral of this outcome, we shouldn’t get drunk together.

Itneverended well.

“So you say,” Jameson pulled me by the hand. “I bet I can convince you otherwise.” He paused, the smirk still present. “Besides, I have another ass cheek that needs branding and so do you honey.” he teased with a slap to my ass.

If there was one quality about Jameson that most failed to recognize was he had the negotiation and debating skills of a seasoned politician, no lie. If he wanted me to do something, he could convince me in a matter of seconds.

I knew one thing—this pit lizard was going to have agoodtime tonight.

2.Groove–Sway

Groove – This is a racers slang term for the best, most efficient, and fastest route around a racetrack for a particular driver. The “high groove” takes a car closer to the outside wall for most of a lap, while the “low groove” takes a car closer to the apron than the outside wall. Some racers will refer to this as a line. Drivers search for a fast groove that changes depending on track and weather conditions.

Jameson took me around before driver introductions started and introduced me to everyone with Simplex Riley Racing. The team had grown since the last time and even though I’d met most of them in Daytona, there were a few additions to the team. Some of the pit crew was new, like Ethan and Gentry, both affable guys that fit in well to the combination.

His crew chief, Kyle Wade, was still the same. I stayed with him while Jameson did pre-race interviews and talked with his teammate, Bobby Cole.

If you were to spend time around a racing team, at the track or even away, it wasn’t hard to figure out who the driver was. Maybe it was the type of personality racing attracted. Just the same, you could tell who the crew chief was as he was the one carrying just as much of a burden but with less pay.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Kyle knowing he’d give me an honest answer if I asked.

Kyle was a big burly guy, not as large as Spencer was, but similar to a teddy bear with his olive skin, brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes. He was adorable, if that was an appropriate word to use for a twenty-nine year old man. I thought it was. Every time I saw him, I wanted to cuddle him and spoon-feed him applesauce, because that’s not weird at all.

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