Page 155 of Trading Paint
I just won a race that most of these bystanders had watched. This wasn’t the ideal situation for a number of reasons. I didn’t joy the herding fans, I hated attention and I was fucking hungry. Leave it to Spencer to ruin my evening.
“Spencer,” I seethed. “You better run for your motherfucking life!”
This did nothing to Spencer, who relished in finding new innovative ways to annoy me. He zoned in on his newest clever trick that I was sure wasn’t good.
About the time I was ready to kill my brother, Spencer started playing with our food. And I don’t mean, “random touching” sort of playing. I mean, four-year-old playing.
Taking a French fry, he scooped two fries from Lane’s plate into each one of his hands. He then bit the top of one fry away creating a height separation between the two.
Walking the taller fry across the table toward the shorter fry, he started speaking in a high-pitched “girl” voice, but with a stupid cartoonish accent.
“Oh Jameson!You’re sosexyanddeliciousand I was just wondering if you could check my oil!”
Then he lowered his voice to a low rasp, wiggling the taller fry back and forth.
“Oh honey, I’ll check your oil andyourbearing alignment. You know, whatever it is us racers do.”
He was putting on a play.
About me and Sway.
With French fries.
Spencer knew I had a thing for Sway and it was frequently becoming a point of interest for him, or target I guess you could say.
“Oh Jameson,” he wiggled the short fry. “I just love your hair! It’s so messy, and hot. It looks like it just got fucked by a room full of monkeys. Hey, are you, like,huge? You know...in the camshaft area? I’ve always wondered...”
My dad, who was seated next tomeangled his body away from us as though he was trying to get away. I wanted to do the same but instead my eyes were drawn to the play before me wondering what would happen next.
The taller fry stood taller, if a fry can do that.
“Sway, you’re so hot. Maybe one day I’ll be able to talk to you and we can figure out that we’re fucking perfect for each other. Then I can finally stop speed bleeding over you and we can do some micro polishing. Maybe even do some align boring?”
Any concern I had about my brother’s sanity was now gone. He’d lost it completely.
When I returned my focus to the table, Spencer had the fries lying down on Lane’s half eaten hamburger bun, one on top of the other. The taller fry was giving ithardandloudto the smaller fry.
The sex noises were drawing all kinds of attention from fellow restaurant eaters and my dad who’d all but dropped his jaw at his oldest son’s ability to act out this scene. One woman got out of her seat and marched her young daughter out, a look of disgust thrown our way. Lucky Lane had no idea what was happening and just smiled at his morally challenged father.
“Oh, Jameson,” the smaller fry spoke up. “...you’re so hard, and hot. Give it to me! Yeah, just like that!”
“Yes, oh, yes!” the taller fry groaned. “Sway, God you’re so greasy for me.Mmmm...I just wanna lick all the salt off you...Oh, shit I’m gonna...I’m gonna...Oh...Ooooh!”
Around that point was when my cheeks flushed. Usually this sort of thing wouldn’t embarrass me but it did.
Just then, Aiden threw a glob of Ranch dressing onto the two French fries, and Spencer stopped, eyeballing the glob significantly, then leveled us a very serious look.
“Withdrawal is not an effective method of birth control.”
“Unless you’re a potato,” Aiden added helpfully.
“Unless you’re a potato,” Spencer confirmed, solemnly.
And people wonder why I wished I was adopted.
After Rockingham, I swear the pit lizards multiplied by the thousands. I’ll never understand why pit lizards went to the fanatical extreme ways they did but I’ll tell you somethingelse,I was not okay with it.
It never failed. I’d walk out of my motor coach and they’d be waiting. How they got into the private compound where the drivers stayed was an entire different issue I’d be talking to NASCAR about. They card me every time but these girls get free roam because they have tits?
