Page 59 of Trading Paint
“Figures,” I muttered taking a drink of my orange juice.
Jameson plopped down beside me in the booth while Spencer and Alley, I assume, made use of some alone time in the room.
When we finished eating, we walked the mile back to the hotel room hoping Spencer and Alley were done. The thought wasn’t lost on me that this might have something to do with Jameson’s anger. His brother was getting some and well, he wasn’t.
“I’m thinking of getting my nipples pierced,” Emma said to no one in particular.
Jameson started coughing loudly.
I smacked his back.
“Emma...” I glared in her direction as she skipped along the sidewalk, pleased with making her brother uncomfortable.
Jameson pulled his cell phone out from his jeans.
“What are you doing?” I didn’t need to ask, but I did.
These last few days if Emma did anything to annoy him, he called home to try and convince Jimi that Emma needed to come home.
“I’m not going to deal with this shit.” He grumbled.
Emma being Emma, reached for his cell phone, retrieved it, and chucked it across the busy street.
“I’m sorry,” she offered when a truck smashed it.
“Listen to me,” Jameson growled at her while I held him back. “I let you come with us...I won’t feel bad about killing you.”
“I said I was sorry. You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time.”
“Emma,” I interrupted. “I would quit while you’re ahead.”
She didn’t. Emma never did. I think she lived for the moment when Jameson blew up and that he did.
The race in Chico was cancelled due to a rain out and that did nothing to help his anger. Then to top it off, Bucky called and wanted him in Indianapolis for a Silver Crown race in four days.
He was already scheduled for a World of Outlaws race that same day in Grand Forks, North Dakota at Rivers City Speedway.
With the way the schedule was this summer, he was racing three times a weekandon Saturday nights.
I wasn’t sure how long he could keep up with it but judging by his temper flaring in front of me, the outlook was not positive.
“Jameson, calm down.” I urged when he started loading everything into his truck to leave.
He was slamming doors, throwing parts...just being the usual hotheaded Jameson.
“Calm down? Do you realize what you’re saying?” his voice had that same sour edge it did the first night.
“Since Bucky is paying you, just skip the Outlaw race.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” He ranted ignoring me. “I don’t want to be their goddamn puppet. I just want to race.”
“I know but you can’t back out of it now.”
“I realize that, Sway.”
“Well if you do, why are you throwing such a fit?”
Jameson hurled another bag in the back of his truck. It made a loud thud as it hit the bed.
