Page 104 of Trading Paint
“You smoked me last night in that heat race,” Bobby grinned.
“Must be the car,” Jameson teased with another smirk.
“Or the driver,” Bobby hedged. “Have you met Tate Harris?”
Jameson shook his head and looked over his shoulder to see Tate making his way through the crowd. He bumped Jameson’s shoulder when he walked through and back at us.
“So you’re the kid who’s won the Night before the 500 three times now.”
“That would be me.” Jameson said and leaned into me slightly. I tucked my hand into his back pocket.
Oh jeez...now I’m touching his ass. God help me.
Jameson didn’t seem to mind and never attempted to move so I kept it there. His arm never moved from my shoulders either.
“I’ve tried to win that for the last six years.”
“Yeah and I’ve tried to win Turkey Night for the last six.”
They all continued to tease each other about their wins that never came. It was nice to see Jameson mingling with guys around his age. He grew up around the legends in the Outlaw series but he never mixed with the USAC guys. Sure, he was friends with Justin, Ryder and Tyler but other than them, he rarely even spoke to any of them. He seemed to be at ease around Bobby and Tate.
One thing was for sure, there were a lot of people who disliked Jameson as well. When you have 250 drivers from all over the world and from different divisions, they all had different racing styles. Some didn’t like that Jameson would lag on restarts or his tetchy personality but you either loved Jameson or hated him. I honestly believed that if you hated him, you didn’t understand him. He was the type of person who you had to understand to like and to see the real him. He only let a few people see him for who he was.
Watching him that night, I couldn’t help but admire who he was becoming. Here was a kid I met when I was eleven and who was now he was twenty. He was a man and no longera kid I once knew.
“Racing gods...please help me!” Jimi groaned caring a rear shock to his midget. His sponsor in the Outlaw series funded a car for him here.
“I think that’s supposed to be on the car.” Jameson jutted.
“No shit,” he tossed the shock at our feet. “You guys got a spare?” he asked Bobby and his mechanic who were standing next to him.
Without question, Bobby handed over a spare shock.
That’s the thing with racing. On the track you fight for every position, every point but I guarantee you that if someone wrecks or breaks something; you’ll have ten guys waiting at your pit to get you back out there.
I wasn’t surprised to see him here being as this was the Midwest but Grandpa Casten, Jimi’s dad and Jameson’s Grandpa, walked up holding his flask and motioned behind him.
“Hey Jay, those girls over there are screaming your name.”
I don’t know if I need to point this out, but given the chance, Casten would do anything to embarrass you, much like Spencer.
“Grandpa...” Jameson shook his head in embarrassment.
We weren’t expecting to see old Grandpa Casten here but I was pleasantly surprised. He was always good for a few laughs and loved to make fun of others, this is why I loved him. The only problem was that old Casten had a way of enlisting me into his army. This meant I somehow ended up wondering how in the hell I got myself into a situation when the outlook couldn’t have looked any worse. The old bastard got me arrested once when I went to a Nine Inch Nails concert with him a few years back. I’ll spare you the details but I was arrested and wasn’t happy about it.
“Hey, that one’s got a set of lungs.” He elbowed Jameson. “That could be a good time right there.”
Jameson leaned into my ear. “Kill me now, please.” He begged me.
I giggled. “Nah, this is entertaining.”
Jameson stayed and talked with Tate for a while so I walked back to his pit with Casten and Tommy.
“What’s with you and my grandson?” Casten asked conversationally, his eyes glued to the woman’s ass in front of us.
“Who are you talking too?”
“You...I was talking about you. Now settle the fuck down.” He grumbled taking a pull from his flask. “It was only a question.”
