Page 48 of Black Flag

“Who’s Hank?” Jamesonlooked confused. “We have someone to water the track?”

“Correction, wehadsomeone to water the track. You have to hire someone else.”

“Well shit.” Was hisonly answer as we stared at Charlie creating the nextGirls GoneWild.I brieflywondered how the trophy girls felt about mud wrestling.

“Sway,” Charlie yelledfor me through his megaphone some dumb shit gave him earlier today. I had adistinct feeling that dumb shit was Tommy Davis, our high school buddy andmechanic for Jameson’s sprint car team. “Go get me my tools. This piece of shitisn’t putting out enough water. I’m gonna fix this once and for all.”

Logan, Andrea’s son,walked up beside us and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He chuckled.“Yesterday he tried to fix the dishwasher and now every time you turn on thekitchen light the dish washer sprays water all over the kitchen and sparks.”

Jameson and I justgawked in disbelieve. It was going to be long day. Not only was Charlie now firingpeople left and right, he’d gone completely crazy. I was now positive he wasfive cans short of a six pack.

Logan walked awaytoward Lucas, his twin brother who was picking up money that’d fallen out of people’spockets under the grandstands. These two were little shits and I was positivetheir father was the devil. Andrea, my dad’s live-in girlfriend, was sweet andI had no idea how in the hell she gave birth to those monsters let alone notkill.

“I swear to god,Jameson.” I remembered my morning with Charlie. “If he tells me one more timehis eggs taste like shit...I’m turning him intoeggs...or shit.”

Jameson laughedpressing me to his side. Softly he kissed my forehead.

“I missed you.” Hewhispered his breath strong of whiskey and chocolate.

“I see you and Charliefinished off the bottle of whiskey last night.”

“Sorry...it was his fault.” His sheepish grin wasadorable.

“Blame the man withbrain cancer...that’s low Jameson.”

He chuckled againtightening his grip. “Itwashis fault. He forced me to drink.”

“Yeah—” I began but wascut off by a little boy tugging on Jameson’s sweatshirt.

“Excuse me sir...can I get an autograph?” the littleblonde haired boy asked. He was cute, couldn’t have been any older that five.Immediately I wanted to lean down and pinch his adorable puffy cheeks.

“Oh sure buddy,” Thoughhe hated being interrupted when working, he loved the little pint sized fans.“What’s your name?” he asked kneeling beside him to reach for the picture hehanded him.

“My name is Zack.” Thelittle boy chimed.

Jameson wrote a littlenote to him before handing the photograph back. “There you go buddy.”

Zack’s eyes lit up withexcitement when he glanced at the note. “Thank you!”

“Thanks man, you madehis day.” His dad, I assumed, shook Jameson’s hand and they walked away.

Humbly, Jameson justsmiled seeming uncomfortable with the praise.

I was in love. I hadthe sweetest dirty heathen around. But just as I was going to suggest we go upto his office, another fan approached us.

After the fourth one, Ibegan to realize the entire day was going down like this. Jameson didn’t makeit two feet and he was bombarded with a horde of fans all waiting for theirchance to meet a hometown legend in the making.

Since Jameson took overownership, my duties around the track were to keep smoke from turning intoforest fires. This wasn’t easy these days but made the race night go byquickly.

Before the featureevents began, I noticed I hadn’t seen Jameson in a few hours. Fearing for hissafety with all these obsessed garage groupies hounding him, I went looking forhis body hoping still had his arms and legs.

I spotted Alley andLane at the merchandise booths.

“Hey, have you seen—”My phone beeped distracting me. It was Jameson. “Oh, never mind.”

His text said to meethim in his office. I climbed the stairs, passed through the announcer booth andmade my way into the back office where I knew he’d be.

When I walked inside,there was no one there but the bathroom light was on so I assumed he was inthere. The day hadn’t given me much quiet time, so it felt good to get awayfrom Mallory, our office manager and her crazy antics. I loved the girl but onrace days she acted as our scorer and she made me crazy.

---