Page 24 of Dirt Driven

The next ten people in line got Hudson’s scribble as well. They all tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t having it. He’d sign their shirts, but God forbid they try to talk to him or touch him.

After the autograph session, Caden had an appearance in town with his sponsor, so he took off with Kinsley. That left Jameson and me walking back to the pits together. His mood was visibly different from an hour ago. His hands buried in his pockets and a set frown on his face.

I smiled. “If the hat means that much, I can get it back for you,” I teased, motioning to Hudson who took off running when he spotted Arie returning from the concession stands with food.

He motioned with his hand to a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Caden. “I knew his uncle, at one time.”

“Caden’s?” Caden Carson was a kid from Santa Rosa California. He’d made a name for himself racing USAC, much like Jameson had growing up. He’d also been a frequent champion in the ASCS (American Sprint Car Series) National tour. Jameson signed him when he was sixteen and he started racing for Axel when Jack had passed away, and me a few times after a string of concussions. For the past two years, he was now a permanent fixture with the JAR Racing boys.

“Yeah. His mom’s brother died of leukemia when he was five. I knew him. He was part of the Make a Wish Foundation and wanted to meet me. I spent a few days racing go-carts with him my rookie season in NASCAR. He passed away the following month.”

“That’s crazy.”

“What’s even crazier is that from the moment Caden was born, eighteen years later, he’d been obsessed with racing. His grandma, Sara, over the years I stayed in touch with her and she told me about him racing. I went out and watched him when he was about eleven or twelve and he immediately knew who I was. Mia, his mom and Axle’s younger sister, was a single mom trying to make her son’s dreams of racing come true.”

“Naturally,” I teased. “Does he know the connection?”

He smiled. “He knows. CST Engines and Gomez Gears sponsored him for six years before I signed him onto JAR Racing.” Jameson twisted his head toward me, our walk slowing when we rounded the side of the concession stands. “Do you remember when I met you for the first time when you were seven?”

The memory tugged at me. It was the first time I saw Arie too. She was only three at the time, but I remember it so clearly. “Williams Grove. I still have the poster you signed for me.”

Throwing his head back, he laughed. “Probably worth some money now.”

“It’s worth more than money to me.” I wasn’t lying. This legendary man standing beside me, I’d learned more from him than anyone else in my life. As a driver, he was unbeatable most nights and highly influential as a man. Spend any amount of time around him and you’d never forget him. He’s Intimidating by nature and I found myself constantly in awe at what he could do behind the wheel. But I’ll tell you this. It was far more rewarding to know Jameson as a person, than it was to work for him. He taught me everything I knew about open wheel racing, and how to handle myself in a sport that gave very little in return. That was what I called dirt driven. Jameson Riley.

In the distance I could make out the row of JAR Racing haulers lined up together. All in order. Casten, Axel, me, Jameson and Caden. Always in that order. I refused to park next to Casten. Ever. Axel was forced to because he was his brother.

“Can you believe I started this team when I was twenty-two?”

I nodded.

“Thirty-three years I’ve been running this same tour. And kept the same original three drivers until five years ago.”

Jameson was incredibly business savvy. It was why he owned a sprint car team, a NASCAR team, the engine building company his grandfather started, a racetrack, a restaurant, and three more side businesses. When he saw opportunity, he took it.

“It’s impressive,” I told him, shoving my hands into the pockets of my cargo shorts. “Especially with the level of competition these days.”

He tipped his head and watched the kids following Arie toward the motor homes. “It’s something special, you know? To be able to get a group of guys and have them work together.”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say Willie and Dave worktogether,” I teased.

“Sure they do. On killing one another.” We both laughed and kept walking.

It was then I looked over at Jameson and the way the sunlight hit his face and the rusty brown in his scruff jaw. He sighed, as if he was trying to figure out how to tell me something.

“I want to ask you something,” he began as he stopped walking. I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. My heart thudded harder in my chest. Maybe he was upset about last night. Or the fact that I hadn’t won a race yet this season. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. But I gotta start off by saying,I wasn’t lying when I told you I’ve always thought of you as a son, Rager. You are the only driver with an indefinite contract with me. I mean, the boys don’t have contracts, but you get what I mean. You’re the only driver who isn’t blood and has an indefinite contract. Even if I couldn’t find sponsors, I would back you, because I trust your ability and your business sense.”

I knew what that meant. And I never took it for granted. I also knew if I fucked up bad enough, he’d cut his losses like any business owner would. But nothing prepared me for what he said next.

He made eye contact before he said, “I’d like to offer you partial ownership in JAR Racing.”

Partial ownership? I was silent, unsure what to make of what he said, or if I’d heard him correctly. When Jameson signed me on as a driver for JAR Racing, I was fifteen years old. I wasn’t old enough to race with the World of Outlaws yet, but he hired me anyway. For three years, I raced for him in various midget and sprint car races, but when I debuted on the Outlaw tour, he never hesitated to give me a full-ride and lined up sponsors for me. From then on, I was a permanent part of JAR Racing.

Never in my life did I think he’d ask me to be a partial owner someday. Didn’t he want one of his sons to take over? It didn’t add up. I knew Casten wouldn’t want anything to do with it though. The less responsibility he had, the better as far as he was concerned. But Axel, I wasn’t so sure.

Clearing my throat, I shifted my weight from one foot to the next, trying to appear casual. “What about the boys?”

Jameson shrugged, his stare shifting to the pits. “Casten owns CST Engines now, and Axel, he will inherit Grays Harbor Raceway if anything ever happens to Sway and me. JAR Racing… that’s for you and Arie. She won’t want to own it, and legally can’t while being the director of public relations. I’d like you to be partners with me. I can’t do this by myself anymore, and frankly, I don’t want to. I love showing up at the track and racing. I don’t want to worry about where my drivers are and finding sponsors for the next season. At least not with just me anymore.”

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