Page 27 of Trading Paint

I made it about twenty feet from the pit bleachers where I stopped and signed a few autographs from some of the kids racing quarter midgets that night.

Chelsea sighed beside me, “Why do they always have to interrupt us?”

I scowled at Chelsea when the child frowned.

“Here you go buddy.” I handed him his program back and offered him my hat as well.

“Thanks Jameson.” He chimed skipping away, thankfully undeterred by Chelsea’s comments.

Sway walked out of the bathrooms in fresh clothes before I could say something sarcastic to Chelsea. I may or may not have turned a hose loose on Sway when we got her to get even but in my defense, she deserved it. I had to walk through the pits in my black boxer briefs because of her.

“I hope you piss yourself...” Sway mocked walking up to me. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Do you always follow Jameson to his races?” Chelsea asked her as she wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have much of a life, do you?”

I wanted to smack her for talking toSwaythat way.

“I was invited.” Sway replied glaring in my direction. “Were you?”

Chelsea arched an eyebrow at Sway while running her right hand down my stomach—I caught it before it went further. “Well, I am his girlfriend.”

Not that word again.

I groaned in misery. “Sway, Tommy is looking for you. Can you give him this,” I handed her my credentials. “Chelsea, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked once Sway walked away.

She smiled possessively. “Sure babe.”

Rolling my eyes, I walked with her toward the pit bleachers to get ready for the drivers meeting.

“You need to stay in the stands if you’re going to be here. Only pit members are allowed down here.”

“What about Sway? She’s not a pit member.”

I lost it and threw my hands up in the air.

“Will you stop it?” I yelled. “Just stop! Stop acting so goddamn possessive over everything.” My infuriated eyes focused on hers, wide with surprise. “Sway is part of my team. Every week she’s out here helping me, what do you do?”

“I help in other ways...ways she can’t.” Chelsea purred in my ear standing on her toes to reach around my neck. My harsh clipped tone did nothing to deter her. “Did you forget what I did for you the other night?”

I hadn’t forgotten. Wanted too but unfortunately, I hadn’t.

Until the other night, I had only kissed girls and maybe the occasional dry humping session but nothing underneath clothing. Against my better judgment, I let Chelsea jerk me off after we went to the movies. Since then, she thought she had some materialistic claim over me as though I was hers.

“Are you for real?” I snapped and then realized how childish this all was. “I have to go.” I told her and walked away.

When I got to the pit bleachers dad was sitting there with Justin and Shey Evans.

“Girl problems?” he asked laughing.

“Fuck you,” was my reply.

Yes, I said “fuck you” to my dad.That’show annoyed I was.

I hated that I even had to deal with this shit in the first place. I pushed the thoughts aside when Clint, the chief steward for Skagit, rolled up on his 4-wheeler to began the drivers meeting. I focused on what was important, racing.

He talked about procedures for the hot laps, time trials, heat races and then the feature events.

I glanced across the track when he started in about cautions and what to do when the yellow came out, as if we didn’t know. I watched as the stands began to fill with spectators.

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