The Legend (60 page)

Jostled,
smashed, bumped, you name it, I was crammed inside the media center waiting for
my husband to speak publicly for the first time since the accident. Though I
hated being in there, I wanted to hear this.

Eva,
Tate’s wife found me before the press conference started. “How’s he doing?”

We hadn’t
seen each other since Jimi’s funeral and she’d missed a lot of the drama that
had gone on with him not passing the exams. “He’s doing
good
but still feeling…the loss.”

“It’s only
natural.” Eva hugged my side holding me a little longer than she usually would.
Eva was a big hugger. “Tate still feels the loss of his dad and it’s been ten
years.”

She no
sooner spoke the words and then covered her mouth as though she said the wrong
thing. “I know of anyone, you understand that.” She said regretfully.

“Don’t
worry about it.” I assured her. “I know.”

I think
Eva understood I didn’t want to talk about it and stood beside as support.

Watching
the crowd, most of which consisted of reporters but there were a few drivers
like Tate Harris, who was retired this year but still running his own team, and
Jameson’s teammates Bobby Cole and Paul Leighty. Everyone wanted a glimpse into
the mystic that made him Jameson Riley.

Standing
near Arie and Casten, Spencer wrapped his arm around me when Jameson came into
my view.

He walked
in, Alley close behind him, with his head bent forward not looking at anyone.

“How do
you feel?” the first reporter asked him. “Do you have any setbacks since your
injury?”

Jameson
nodded, his eyes focused on the microphone. You could feel it, if not see it,
the significance behind his eyes in that moment. “I feel good. Sore at times
but, I’ve recovered and I am ready to get back to racing.”

A few more
questions were asked regarding racing and the direction of Riley-Simplex Racing
now that Jimi was gone when that same reporter Jameson always had problems with
asked if he felt the loss of his father now that he was back.

I wanted to
lash out at the reporter and tell him to shove his tape recorder up his ass but
I didn’t. What he didn’t realize was that now that he was back at the track, it
was painfully real again that Jimi was gone.

Jameson
didn’t look up right away. Instead his eyes remained on the microphone as
calloused fingers I knew the strength of ran over a Sharpie in his hand.

Soon his
gaze shifted from the reporter to me. We shared a moment and I winked, though
he never responded, I knew that his mind was elsewhere.

“Whether I
want to or not, I get to deal with it.” The vulnerability in his voice was
enough to make me want to cry, which I had done a lot lately. “Yeah, I miss
him. That’s a stupid question.”

Thankfully
Alley stepped in. “There will be no more questions regarding Jimi. You may ask
questions related to racing and that’s all. If anyone asks about his family,
the interview is over.”

Jameson
leaned back appearing a little more comfortable. A grin appeared as he crossed
his arms over his chest. “I’d listen to the lady. Don’t piss of Alley.”

The media
center was brought to life with chuckles. Alley smacked the side of his head as
she walked back to her place against the wall.

“See,”
Jameson gestured to Alley. “She uses physical violence to control me.”

Just like
the man I always knew, his wit has the power to overcome the vulnerability he
felt.

“We’ve
heard talk of a possible televised show to account for your progress and return
to racing.” A reporter nearest to Jameson in the front asked holding a tape
record high over her head. “Is there any truth to those rumors?”

Jameson
groaned revolted by the question. Slowly he looked up to meet the questioning
eyes. “No. Those are rumors. I’ve declined all offers.”

Wanting to
show as much of his recovery as they could, the pried every day to get details
and interviews. That first weekend back, they chose that race to have an in-car
camera in his car. It was just another way to go about getting the story even
if he wouldn’t agree to the show.

“Any plans
of racing in Knoxville Nationals?” that same shithead reporter asked.

Looking
back at the microphone, Jameson’s hands found his hat and he tugged on it
lightly keeping his gaze down. “No. I have no plans of racing sprint cars again
this year.”

The
pensive regret was easy to feel in each word.

Fortunately,
the press conference didn’t last long. There were only so many questions they
could ask without getting too personal and pissing off Alley.

After the
press conference, Arie and Casten took off with Emma and went to lunch as
practice started. Dressed in his racing suit, Jameson stood with me beside his
car smiling at Kyle.

Kyle
rubbed the side of the car grinning as if he was presenting a trophy. “I
brought your favorite girl.”

Jameson
threw his head back laughing.

Over the
years it had become a joke between Kyle and Jameson and naming the cars. They’d
agree on a name during practice and then the boys would joke about it. It was
all in good fun and another unity they had, and still had.

When he
got inside the car, I watched him closely and scrutinized his every move for
any indication that he was in pain.

Sitting on
the pit box with Kyle and Spencer, I snuck on the headset.

After his
horrific crash in Pocono back in 2003, Jameson showed some concerns when he got
inside the car for the first time after that. Now, he showed none. He never
hesitated as he got inside. He never hesitated when he fired the car up and he
never hesitated when he brought it up to full speed on the track. But he also
never said a word on the radio until half way through the practice session.

Mired in
thirty-second during practice, Jameson wasn’t pleased. “We need to change this
shit now!” he said speaking for the first time. “I can’t keep it out of the
wall.”

“Okay,
well come in and let’s see if maybe a spring rubber might help.”

“We’ve
made those adjustments Kyle.” Jameson said annoyed. “It’s not helping!”

“I know
that, Jameson. We’re trying but you know as well as I do it’s hard to predict
the changes the tracks going to make when the lights go out tomorrow. We have
to set it up for that.”

“Just give
me a good car.” Jameson responded immediately. “That’s all I’m asking for!”

Not more
than two laps later, Jameson wadded the car up in turn two after he brushed the
wall in one, the back end came around on him. My heart leaped into my chest at
the force that he hit the wall. A thousand possibilities of different ways he
could have been injured shot through me.

The camera
shot to Jameson’s in-car camera. I watched his breathing closely and the
trembling of his gloved hands. He hit the kill switch with an agitated flip of
his wrist and then ripped away his air hose. His head tipped back against the
seat and then his hand rose to the wheel pounding it a few times in frustration.

It was
evident that he was beyond pissed when he got out of the car. The safety
officials wanted him to ride back to the infield care center but he wasn’t
having it and instead walked away to pit lane when they called an end to the
practice session to clean up the mess. His car was destroyed.

Making my
way through the pits, I found Jameson back at the hauler standing outside of it
signing autographs for a few young boys who had gathered.

“Do you
still got it or did you lose the fire?” Brody stirred nudging Jameson with a
taunting edge to his tone when he walked past.

Jameson’s
eyes opened into a glare regarding Brody briefly.

He stood
from his kneeling positing by the boy at his feet, shoulders tense and baring a
burden again as he handed the boy in front of him his t-shirt he’d just signed.
Looking at the boy, he smiled. “Here buddy. Enjoy the race tomorrow.”

When the
boys were gone, Brody stood there in front of him trying to push a little more
as did the media.

“Jameson,”
a young reporter jetted his microphone in Jameson’s face. “What happened out
there?”

I could
tell by the huff Jameson let out and pushed the reporter back a few feet. “I’m
not answering questions right now.”

“Come on man,”
the reporter sighed brushing his hair from his face clearly taken back by
Jameson’s refusal. “Just one interview isn’t asking too much.”

“You get
that fucking camera out of my face!” Jameson snapped back at the reporter.

“I’m—”

“I mean
it.” Jameson stepped toward throwing his hand up. “Get lost or I’ll break your
fucking camera!”

“Same guy
you’ve always been.” The reporter mumbled and motioned to his camera man to
walk away with him.

Some may
think Jameson is a jerk when it comes to the media or persistent fans but, they
don’t see the side that Jameson deals with. All his life a camera has been in
his face. As soon as he’s out of the car, he doesn’t have time to process what
happened before he’s being asked to explain it in detail. Yes, that’s part of
this sport, but to judge a driver for reacting emotionally or with anger isn’t
right. You have no idea what he’s dealing with. They had no idea what he was
dealing with. They may think they did but in actuality, they weren’t feeling
what he was feeling.

I followed
Jameson inside the hauler. He stood facing the counter, his back to me. With
his hand gripping the back of his neck, I noticed his breathing was labored.

“Are you
done running from me because there’s some things I need to say.” Kyle said to
him coming inside the hauler behind me. “It’s only fair that you listen.”

Turning
sharply, Jameson caught my stare before darting his eyes to Kyle. He blinked
the stunned expression away and the anger I saw earlier sparked.

“I just
need five minutes. Can you give me that? Five minutes?” Jameson hollered at
Kyle.

Kyle,
knowing Jameson’s temper, turned and walked out immediately leaving us alone.

I didn’t
say anything because no words were necessary. He needed time and no one would give
him it right now. Did they not see what his eyes were telling them?

No. They
couldn’t because other than his parents, no one understood those pensive glares
and the surreptitious squinting he did.

Jameson’s
arms crossed over his chest, his head hung. Looking at him now I noticed that
every day, his demeanor reminded me of Jimi. His calloused stance spoke
volumes. I understood what Nancy meant when she said a part of Jimi would be
forever with her because of Jameson.

Kyle
stayed away for about ten minutes when he came inside. “The guys need to get to
work on the back-up car bud.”

That was
his way of breaking the silence. Jameson nodded with his head for the guys to
come in. Scooting closer to me his arm wrapped around my shoulder drawing me
into him.

“Don’t do
this Jameson. Talk to us.” Kyle was still worked up, his tone evident of that.
“Tell us what we can do to help you in the car.”

Once
again, Jameson said nothing but a blank stare that reminded me of his time in
the hospital.

“If you
hear me Jameson, say something!” Kyle yelled showing more anger than he
intended to. “I need you to…” his voice faded when Jameson straightened his
stance and removed himself from being wrapped around me.

And I knew
why. He had hit a nerve.

Kyle
wanted Jameson to talk to him and he was about to.

“I fucking
hear you.” He growled with a bitter laugh forcing amusement into his tone. His
gaze swept to Kyle with anger. “I hear everyone. Just stop already.” Jameson
then hurled the pile of merchandise setting on the counter next to him. The
crew guys that had made their way in stopped and gaped at him. “I can’t do it!
I’m not feeling the car, I have no idea what’s happening to it or changes that
should be made. Something feels off to me and I can’t place it. Imagine how
that makes me feel right now! All my life I’ve raced and known exactly what’s
happening in any car I’ve been inside. There’s never been a time when I didn’t
know. Now what do I do? I can barely read the fucking gauges let alone feel how
the car is handling. So yeah Kyle, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

The words
were spoken with a vulnerability that was harsh and cutting, reminding us of
our deepest fears. Jameson was scared inside the car.

Nothing
more was said by anyone.

Later that
night, I made Jameson his favorite meal before a race and we sat outside the
motor coach talking with Bobby and Paul as Casten provided the entertainment.
Crazy kid always knew how to lighten the mood.

Standing
near the side, I laughed at Casten dancing around to some hip hop song as he
impersonated Brody at driver introductions from the All Star race two weeks
ago.