Page 56 of Trading Paint
“Please.” She cried.
I laughed. This was pathetic. “Let her come, Jameson.”
Jameson was quiet and then pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. “Fine, but I have rules.”
“I’m listening.” Emma perked up.
“You listen to what Spencer and I tell you.” His eyebrows arched in question at her.
She nodded while I giggled next to them.
“No dating racers.”
Emma frowned. “Lock me up why don’t you?”
“Don’t come then.” Jameson challenged.
“Fine, but I get to pick the first hotel.” She beamed and ran to her house to pack.
“I thought we were done with her.” Jameson sighed tipping his head toward me standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
“She’s your sister. She’s not going anywhere.”
“This is going to suck.”
“What did Chelsea say?”
Jameson hung his head. “Uh...she broke up with me.”
I couldn’t tell whether this bothered him or not, so I didn’t say anything. Jameson knew how I felt about Chelsea so he didn’t need to hear it again when he was clearly having some mixed emotions about this so I didn’t say any more.
I thought he would have been glad to get rid of her seeing how he wasn’t even considering letting her come with us.
An awkward silence crept over us when he took a deep breath and smiled. “You ready?”
“Sure, let’s do this.”
“You sure?”
“I was until you said Emma could come.”
“Hey asshole...you told me too.” He said glaring.
An hour later—an emotional outburst from Nancy—Emma carrying her entire bedroom outside and Jameson throwing everything out of his truck—we were on our way to California.
The plan was to race in Chico this Saturday night, then Vegas the following Tuesday night and then we’d be off to the Midwest.
I thought Jameson would be excited but instead he was quiet. He didn’t even fight me when I turned on Gary Allan.
Once we stopped to eat, I decided to have a heart-to-heart with him while everyone else argued about what hotel we’d be staying in.
I pulled him aside. “What’s up with you?”
He shrugged and looked down at his feet. In the distance, a group of kids around our age pile in the back of a Jeep with a boat attached to it. They were doing what every other teenager would be doing this summer, spending their time at the lake.
“Why does something have to be wrong?” there was a sour edge to his voice I hadn’t heard in a while.
“Are you upset about Chelsea?”
