Page 60 of Trading Paint
“Just get in the truck. We don’t have time for this shit.” He huffed throwing another one over his right shoulder. “Where the fuck is everyone?”
Anyone who knew Jameson knew to stay away when his temper was surging. They were safely in the hotel room. “They’re in the room.” Without another word, I climbed inside the truck.
“Get out here! We need to go!” Jameson yelled at the room. “We have two days of driving.”
I got back out of the truck when he turned over the toolbox spraying tools throughout the parking lot.
A jet would be nice right about now.I told myself but then focused on the bigger picture, getting Jameson to calm down.
For one, I was not riding next to this crazed asshole for two days and two,well,I didn’t have a number two. I just knew I wasn’t going to put up with his shit tonight.
“Jameson!” I grabbed his arm shoving him up against the truck. His hard eyes looked anywhere but me but eventually focused on mine. “Remember why you’re doing this.”
When his breathing had returned to normal, I knew the pressure release hadn’t been discharged nearly enough. This was only the beginning.
Yes, there were times when I wanted to punch Jameson for his outbursts; his lashing out at track owners; the temper tantrums in the hauler...I wanted to remind him how lucky he was just to have these opportunities because not everyone can race, but I never did.
Why?
Because he knew.He knew because those same outbursts, the lashing out and the temper tantrums werewhyhe was doing what he loved. It was because he believed so strongly in what he was meant to do that if he was black flagged, he took it personally. If he was wrecked by another driver, he questioned them. And if he didn’t win, he took it hard. All that emotion molded him to what he was becoming...the greatest driver he could be. That emotion made him real but more importantly...it made him Jameson Anthony Riley.
10.Adhesion – Jameson
Adhesion – The “stick” between two touching objects. Adhesion implies a static condition, while traction implies a dynamic (moving) condition.
“Give me that.”
“No...I had it first.”
“I don’t care, it’s my truck...give it to me.” I barked and ripped the last energy drink from Emma’s hands.
“God, you’re such an asshole.”
We were only two days into the road trip and I wanted to kill myself. Emma sent me to epic levels of madness with her constant talking and stealing my shit. Alley was acting like my mother. Spencer on more than one occasion, made a wrong turn and Sway, well my dick was only the part of me that was annoyed with her.
We had to make it to Indianapolis by Wednesday so Spencer drove. If they would have allowed me to drive, we would be there already but I’d also probably be jail for speeding.
I spent a lot of the time with my headphones on so I didn’t have to listen to Spencer and Alley arguing. They got along fine most of the time but you put them in a car inches from each other for fifteen hours a day, you wouldn’t act normal either.
Sway and I slept a great deal—most of the time on each other. We took my truck, a 4-door Ford F250 so there was plenty of room in the back for us to sprawl out, until you account for Emma but we usually forced her to ride up front with Spencer and Alley.
Sleeping on Sway was doing nothing for my self-control, nothing at all. On top of that, I couldn’t do a goddamn thing about the constant hard on I had for the simple fact that everyone was around, all the time. When we stopped in hotel rooms, they were there.
I had a feeling Sway sensed this when she curled up in my lap for a nap before we reached Indianapolis and she felt the rock hard bulge under her head.
She giggled as always, “I think I should sit in my own seat.”
I groaned pulling a pillow on my lap and stared out the window. She was just wearing just a flimsy black tank top. Her bra was showing and this didn’t help.
“Good idea.” I mumbled refusing to make eye contact with her.
Eradicating Sway’s body out of my mind was a challenge that night but once I pulled into the pits, the smells of methanol and dirt calmed me and I was able to focus on the bigger picture and not think with my dick.
I wanted to ask Sway so badly if we could just have sex. Maybe that would subdue the need for her but then again what in the hell would that solve besides complicate things.
That night I raced in Indianapolis at the Lucas Oil Speedway, which is a 2/3 mile asphalt track. It had been a while since I had raced a Silver crown car so it took a few hot laps to get the hang of it. There was always a learning curve when you switched divisions but the good drivers adapted quickly. You had to or you had no business switching it up.
The biggest difference was the weight and the way that weight changed during the hundred-lap race. When you loaded the cars up with fuel to make it the entire feature, you had seventy-five gallons of fuel that wasn’t there at the end of the race.
