Page 95 of Happy Hour

Looking out over the track, I was reminded of how simple racing used to be for him. Now, it was far from that.

Heavy footsteps caught my attention, my eyes scanned the distance for the listless that contrasted the bellowing thunder of the engines that filled the air just moments ago.

Jameson approached with a beer in hand. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly when he heard the sharp growl of a 410 sprint roaring to life. The sound really was addicting.

Securely seated next to me once again, we watched the car drift smoothly through the turns. My focus was more on Jameson as he observed the way the cars jerked sideways on the front stretch.

His long fingers grasped the neck of the beer bottle gauging a group of bystanders waiting for a glimpse of him. It seemed news spread that Jameson was here. Reality was waiting for him.

Instead, he looked beyond them bringing the beer to his lips. Before taking a drink, he sighed. “I miss this.” He tipped his head towards the track.

I nodded knowing my remarks weren’t needed, he knew I understood.

The bottle in his hand drifted my direction. “Thirsty?”

Shaking my head, I curled my legs up to me chest wrapping my arms around them as a breeze blew across the dirt. Times like this, I understood why I saw that vulnerability in him. He longed for the clouds and drizzle of the Northwest and a time where all he knew was sprint cars as that’s where this dream of racing formed.

I still saw that side of Jameson emerge racing in the cup cars but now it was overshadowed by the dramatics of it all.

Aside from the day at track earlier in the week, Jameson had absolutely no free time during the day so that meant I spent my days with Emma.

By Thursday, I was contemplating killing myself as drastic as that sounded. I could only handle her for a few hours at a time before I needed a nap to recoup.

The only thing that made everything better was spending the evening with Jameson, wrapped in his arms, without an inch of space.

There were times late at night, after he’d fallen asleep, where I just watched him sleep. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how much I wanted this to work, and how much I didn’t want to leave next week.

Knowing I spent the last few years attending college so I would be in a position to help my dad, I had obligations now. Charlie needed me there to help.

As it was, he only had a handful of staff there to help. When you’re running an entire track with only four people, you needed all the help you could get.

Once we arrived in Brooklyn Michigan, Jameson, putting aside the events of last weekend’s fine, was in race mode again and focused on racing. Being one of his favorite tracks his mood improved.

Michigan International Speedway was a two-mile moderately banked D-shaped superspeedway. Some even refer to it as the sister track to Texas World Speedway because of its wide racing surface and high eighteen degree banking. It’s extremely fast with the average speed entering the corners around two hundred and five miles per hour due to its wide sweeping corners and long straight-aways.

On Friday, Jameson had just left to qualify, which left me with Emma, Nancy, Alley, and Jimi in the garage area.

“Emma, honey, it’s like ninety five degrees. Take that damn scarf off.” Nancy said as she pulled on the bright red scarf Emma had been wearing since we left Pocono.

“No, that’s okay.” Emma tried to say but it was useless when the red scarf fell to the ground beside her. As luck would have it, she had her back turned to Jimi, giving her parents a full view of her Trash-R-Us token.

You couldn’t miss the sharp intake of breath both Jimi and Nancy inhaled at the sight of their youngest child’s neck.

Emma slowly turned around with panic-stricken eyes to meet Jimi’s enraged eyes.

It took him a moment to be able to speak but when he did, they entire garage area turned and gawked.

“Emma Lynn Riley,whatthe fuck is that on your neck?” Jimi shouted.

Various members of Jameson’s crew chuckled knowing what Emma had done last week. Though this was news to her parent’s, most everyone else had discovered the tattoo.

Jimi flipped out and started yelling at the top of his lungs towards poor little Emma, who then began to cry, and not just any crying, it was a bawling sort of cry.

“Dad...calm down...it’s not that big of a deal.” She made an effort to down play it. “I’ll just grow my hair out. Why are you so upset?”

He gasped. “Whyam I upset? You kids...I refuse to believe that my DNA was a part of...something like this.” He was pacing across the concrete floor in the space Jameson’s car had just been. “First we have Spencer who draws dicks on hotel walls and tattoo’s his ass. Then we have Jameson who obviously needs to be medicated or some shit, and then there’sEmma, who tattoos her goddamn neck with something you’d see on a hooker!”

Nancy backhanded his shoulder. “Jimi calm down! It’s not that big of deal.”

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