Page 165 of The Champion
Whether you want to or not, there comes a point whenyou’re interested in what the public thought of you. I don’t care who you are,you will at some point. I did.
I don’t know why I hadn’tGoogledmyself but whenI did, I wished I hadn’t.
It was times like this that I forced myself blind andonly saw what I wanted to. It didn’t matter. All I saw were lies but then Istarted to believe them.
There was tons of hate websites on meandJameson.There were pictures of my husband with other women and pictures of my kids. Itmade me sick. I wasn’t worried about the other women, I had no need to. I knewit was happening, there was no way for him to get away from them at times andyes, photographs were snapped at times making it seem like he was with them...he wasn’t. I will admit though, whenJameson denied it was happening, that irritated me. Especially when it came toNadia, a woman who was around him constantly and there were many pictures ofthem together. I knew what the pictures represented but he’d blown them off asthough they meant nothing.
To me, they meant something.
Lying to me wasn’t the answer. I knew why he did it butlyingwas never the answer.
Even with those pit lizards, and Nadia, all over myhusband and Jameson insisting it wasn’t happening, what bothered me the mostwere the pictures of my children. It felt like an invasion of privacy. Like havingyour home broken into, only now the whole world saw. Free to judge your dirtylaundry the way they perceived it. Only they based their theories upon lies.
Three cups of coffee and half dozen donuts later, I wasstill on the internet.
Jameson called around four to tell me that he was on hisway home from the shop. He and Justin had been preparing the sprint cars fornext season and he was set to leave for Daytona tomorrow night for thebeginning of Speedweeks. Every spare minute he had was spent at the shop withJAR Racing.
So by five, I was now wearing sweats and still on theinternet while contemplating making comfort cookies or fudge, lots of fudge.
I couldn’t believe some of this bullshit out there. Thearticles and debates about Darrin and Jameson were sickening. I knew whatreally happened but the idea that there were assholes out there that were stillcaught up in it some twelve years later was maddening. I won’t lie. There waspart of me that thought Darrin was still alive. It’s the thoughts that scare methe most now that we had children. Those were the fears that screamed for me toconvince Jameson to run away with me and never look back.
When Jameson had finally come home, my laptop was inpieces on the floor in the kitchen.
He smirked. “Did it talk back or something?”
“According to Wikipedia...”I began but stopped when his eyes flashed with anger.
Jameson groaned and walked out of the room. “Not thatagain.”
I told him everything I had read and then all the sitesthat believed Jameson had killed Darrin and all the crap about Darrin stillbeing alive when he turned sharply on his heel to face me. “I don’t care whatthose fucking websites say. He’s dead as far as I’m concerned. Don’t Googlethat goddamn shit again.” His face was dark and demanding. “I mean it Sway.”
Despite what the websites said, even if Darrin was alive,it didn’t matter. As Jameson said, as far as he was concerned Darrin was dead.We’d moved on, so we thought. Everyone thinks we have this perfect life becausewe make millions each year and Jameson gets to race in an elite series everyyear but we have problems just like everyone else. We fight just like everyother married couple over the same shit every other married couple fightsabout. But we had other pressures most don’t see. Our lives were in the publiceye.
“I won’t.” I finally said nearly in tears. It’d been arough day.
He sighed.
“Honey, I just...Idon’twantthis. I want to forget about it and...I can’t. I’vetried but I can’t. So please, helpme by not bringing it up.”
I understood why he wanted to forget, but in the samesense, I didn’t really want to forget everything. It was something we needed toremember for the sake of our children. The moment we let our guard down withthem was the moment something would happen.
Too many times I’d had to have Van rescue me at the trackor a restaurant when a crazed fan took it too far. That’s why I never forgot.It was a reminder of how hostile this world really was and how fragile thelives of our family were.
Jameson wanted to forget and I would respect that becausehis was more of the violence. Regardless of what many people believe, Jamesonis not a violent person and tends to shy away from conflict in racing if hecan. But he does believe in his ability and if someone questions it, lord helpthem.
Tommy stopped by on his way to Dog Hollow that night.“Hey Sway,” he called out and then headed up to get Casten and Arie. I didn’tpay much attention to him as he frequently took my kids for the night. Tommymay not be the most mature person I’d ever met but for the most part, he wasgood with my kids and that’s all that mattered to me.
“I’m borrowing them.” He told me before leaving.
Later that night, I apologized to Jameson.
“I’m sorry.” I told him crawling into bed.
He was on NASCAR’s website checking out an article theywrote about him the other day.
He looked up for a moment and then back down at thescreen.
“I’m not okay with you believing that shit they put onthe internet.”
