Page 30 of Black Flag

And to think I’m aboutto have one of these crazies in six months.Must be out of mymind.

I turned toward Jamesonwho was still laughing lying on the floor. “You do know that your sisterschedulesall yourmeet and greets, right?”

“So?”

“Next thing you knowyou’re going to be doing them in shopping malls surrounded by teenage girls.”

He cringed. “Fuckthat.”

As he walked pasttoward his room, he kicked her door.

The next morning, thetension between Jameson and Emma was much the same but what was amusing to mewas Jimi, as always. He was good for a laugh or two.

Gathered around thedining room table eating breakfast, we attempted to act civil.

“Hey, don’t do that.”Jimi barked giving Jameson a pointed glare.

“Do what?” We alllooked over at Jimi.

“Touch her.”

“Why?” Jameson scoffedpushing his scrambled eggs around his plate and keeping his arm around myshoulder. “She’s my girlfriend. My hands have been places you probably don’twant to know.”

“Jameson!” Nancy balkedat her son’s crudeness. “Not at the table.”

Jimi was undeterred.“You already knocked her up in my kitchen.Nothingis happening on thistable.”

We were all quiet. Youcould have heard a pin drop.

It tookeveryounce of self-control I could muster, not to giggle at that point and giveeverything away along with my embarrassment.

“You didn’t...?” Jimi’s eyebrows arched, his forkpinged as it dropped against his plate.

“Do you want me to lieto you?” Jameson asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t.” Jamesonlaughed, not convincing.

Images of his attack onme, on this very table, inundated my mind.

Hot damn that was agood time.

Jimi threw his napkinon the table in complete disgust for his son. “I hope you have a little rustyhaired shit just like yourself.” His glare shifted to me. “Sorry Sway, butyou’rescrewed.”

As the days past inMooresville, we moved on from our pranks and it was time for Bristol andJameson’s first race back. We had concerns with being a short track but Jamesonshowed no signs.

Though I was going withhim to Tennessee, I couldn’t stay for the race on Monday. I needed to leave onFriday night in order to be home for the Northern Sprint Tour and then theWorld of Outlaws came to town on Sunday.

I hated missing theBristol race as tickets for that race sell out two year in advance, but thiswas the biggest event at our track. I needed to be there.

It only meant two daysaway from Jameson as he’d be flying to Elma after Sunday’s race to catch theOutlaw race and the fair on Monday night.

Every year we had the“Big E Weekend” that consisted of racing, parades, fireworks and the besttasting food around. This also meant I had a ton of work to do too. Betweeninsurance waivers, scoring, driver sign-ups, hospitality schedules, payouts, itwould be a mess if I wasn’t there to help. In turn, that’s where I was needed.

Jameson was driven andpushed himself every day in order to make the Atlanta race.

Once his cast wasremoved and the broken ribs healed, NASCAR cleared him to race again. The mainconcern was still his lungs, which recovered well but still sparked coughingfits from time to time. He had meticulous plans for regaining strength, muscleand weight he had lost. Knowing Jameson, I had no doubt this would happen.

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