Page 71 of The Champion
“I can’t believe some of the shit that turns us on.”
“Mmm,” I kissed her forehead once. “But that’s why we getalong so good.”
“I was thinking...”She let out a little snort-laugh as her body shuddered again from repressingher laughter.
“That’s never a good thing.” I smirked into her hair.
Sway smacked my arm. “I think we should do it in theannouncer’s booth sometime. I’ve always wanted to try that.” She giggled again,why this is funny to her is what I want to know.
“Why is that funny though?” I asked.
“And we can leave the PA system on...” she continued in a quiet voice that I had to strain to hear.
“What are you talking about?” I looked at her inconfusion.
“While we’re doing it...wecan leave the microphones on...givennobody should be at the track when this occurs...”Sway’s entire body was shaking at that point with pent up laughter that shecouldn’t finish her sentence.
I shook my head.
“And that,” I took her face between my hands and kissedher, “is why I married you, you crazy, crazy woman,” I whispered against herlips, remembering the way they conformed to mine. “We should get back outthere. My heat race is in a few minutes.” I smiled softly and helped her up.
She acquiesced with a little grunt and pushed herself offthe desk, reaching for her jeans. A few more giggles escaped her while shecontinued to dress.
“You guys outta install a sound deadener in those walls.”Aiden suggested with slightly flushed cheeks when we stepped into theannouncer’s booth.
Spencer threw his head back with laughter. “Your shirt’son backward little brother,”
Pulling my shirt over my head, I heard Spencer chuckleagain and ask Sway, “Soo...cartalk huh?”
She slapped the back of his head as he took a drink ofhis beer. “I hope you choke.”
After fixing my shirt and smacking my brother again, Swayand I went our separate ways for the night.
She was helping Andrea and Mallory in the concessionstands tonight until the memorial race and then she’d be in the flag stand towave the green and checkered flag.
Emma waddled up to me as I headed toward the pits to getin the car for the heat race.
“Jameson,” she waved at me to meet her half way. “can yousign these for me? They’re for Bucky’s grandkids.”
“Yeah...sure...” I raised my eyebrows at her appearance.She looked exhausted. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down there humpty?” I gave herthis nickname recently when she started to resemble humpty dumpty. She hatedit, which it turn—made me very happy.
She snorted punching my shoulder. “Don’t call me thatasshole.”
Humpty left after that, leaving me in my element, thepits surrounded by dirt and sprint cars.
I inhaled a deep breath, my senses overflowing with thesweet smells of methanol exhaust mingling with the sharper burnt smell of thetire siping irons. I listened to the noises as air tools chattered, generatorshummed and grinders rasped as crew members roughed up tires. There was theoccasional loud “romp” of the revving nearby sprint cars and thefamiliar twang of country music from one hauler to the next.
This was my home.
I looked around at the hundreds of cars that gatheredhere, rememberingwhythey were. It was essentially Mallory’s idea to dothe memorial race for Charlie and it was also something I’d been thinking aboutfor a while.
We got all the cars around the Northwest to come over.Dad, Justin, Tyler, Tate, Bucky Miers, Shey Evans, and Bobby were also here insupport. Even a bunch of my old buddies from racing in the USAC series werehere along with Ryder and Cody Bowman.
Originally I wasn’t going to race but I couldn’t pass upthe opportunity to race sprint cars when I had the chance.
After the first heat race, I noticed my car wasn’thandling the way I wanted. Tommy and I ran through the different possibilitiesof set-up changes we could make before dad approached us, his suit pulled downto his waist where he had it tied.
“Change the springs.” My dad leaned into the wingcrossing his arms over his chest. “it’ll make a difference.”
