Raining on Jamie

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Summary: Jamie begins to get frustrated and gets ready for the season to end.

AUTHOR: Jaik
EMAIL: jaik@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Jamie McMurray, Jamie POV
SERIES: The Fabulous Life of.
COMPLETED: June 22, 2007
WORD COUNT: 2,036
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: To Mick, for making me laugh with her Jamie.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Once again; not a sequel, just the next one.
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: ~*~ denotes passge of time.
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Texas Motor Speedway , November 4th, 2006

“Another day, another dollar.”

If only everyone really knew how true that was. I swear if I sign another car today I’ll pummel someone. I’ve already signed 3,000 cars today…can’t I just have a tiny break?

NO.

Not even ten minutes to myself, all work, work, work…sometimes I wish I was someone else. But I’m not…I’m the idolized pretty boy. The one everybody thinks is perfect. The one who does nothing wrong and knows exactly what to wear and when.

Maybe I’ll go out later tonight. There’s gotta be somewhere in this town I’ve never been to…after all, everything’s bigger in Texas, so aren’t the parties too?

~*~

Hmm…what should I go in…Armani, maybe Versace? Or Gucci? Versace’s been good to me recently, I’ll stick with her. White slim fit shirt, dark gray sweatshirt, navy resined straight jeans, now for the shoes. Should I go for the Prada or Puma? Ooh! Those new Pumas I got a week ago, why haven’t I worn them yet? Oh yeah, I haven’t had a life outside of autographing the past two weeks.

I slide back to the bathroom and look myself over once. “McMurray…you’re such a pimp.” I dabble a little Redken in my hair and grab the flat iron to put it up in a fauxhawk. After putting my hair into the proper flows and curves I head to the front of the coach and grab the keys that were placed on the rental hook.

I walk outside to find the newest, shiniest Mustang on the planet that I’ve been rewarded with. It still doesn’t have the appeal of the Vipers though…I shrug and slide on into the driver’s seat and turn the ignition. The engine quietly hums to life and the interior glows to light as well. The radio comes on and I start searching through the presets, trying to find something worth listening to. I settle on a Top 40’s station that’s playing the new Rihanna song.

I flip the lights on and back out of the tiny parking space. I pull out of the infield and head for the exit gate. I see the Speedway Club and Lone Star Tower on my sides as I flash my ID at the guards and sing to myself “Now that it’s raining more than ever, you can stand under my umbrella, you can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella-a-a-a.”

I get past the gates only to find the usual pre-race craze of traffic. Sighing, I turn the radio up a little louder and raise the bass level as Fergalicious comes on. I wish my life was as simple as hers. Sing a few songs, show some skin, and then lay back as the radio stations and producers do the rest. Every now and then a concert tour, but how hard can that be? Nowhere near as tough as an annual 38 week work commitment.

After a couple songs of Gwen Stefani, Nelly Furtado, and P!nk go by I finally make it through the congestion. I turn right for once in my life and tear off down the highway, determined to have some major fun before I have to go back to work in the morning.

~*~

I pull into a parking spot on the third floor of the garage and get out; heading for the elevator down to the street. There’s a small crowd of people moving across the street for a bar called the Flying Saucer. “God I hope it’s not a bunch of nerds trekking out,” I mutter, but at least there’s gonna be some atmosphere. I follow the small group in and find that the bar’s name is dead on.

There are plates everywhere from the ceiling to the floors. Each one baring some kind of design, except for a few rows nearest the ceiling. They have random names on them along with a quote. Some of them are all red or green, most of them are black though.

The waitress runs up as soon as we all plop down on the couches in the corner. The lights are dim and she’s obviously had a long day. Her mascara is slightly ragged and her lipstick started to fade a few hours ago as well as her Kohl’s perfume, the smell of pickles and beer surrounds her, but I go easy on her, she seems nice.

“Hi, I’m Shannon, I’ll be your server tonight. Is there anything I can get you to start with? Some pickle popcorn maybe?” she asks sweetly while she sets down a glass of water. I’m a bit blown away that this poor thing can still be so cheerful after what looks like a year of hell.

“I’ve actually never been here before, can you help me out?” I smile up at her and I can see her eyes go a bit softer. There’s still a glimmer in her eye as she grabs a menu from a table behind her.

“Alright, these are all the items we serve in green. The beers in red are what have been suggested to go with that meal. Personally, I like the Big Dipper with the Hummingbird Water instead of the English Pale Ale.” She points to something about halfway down the page.

“What’s the Big Dipper?” I ask her, trying to get her to talk a bit more.

“It’s a roast beef sandwich with swiss cheese and horseradish. It comes with an awesome dipping sauce too. Fries or chips on the side.” She leans on the couch next to me and I can feel the warmth coming from her legs.

“That sounds gOOd.” I can feel my face burn as my voice cracks.

She laughs quietly before getting up and pulling out her order pad. “So what can I bring a cutie like you?” She waits patiently for an answer as I glance at the menu again.

“How about some Beer Cheese Soup and a Big Dipper with Hummingbird Water?” I hand her the menu and she fumbles with it slightly but manages to plop it on the table and zip off before she embarrasses herself further.

I can’t help but notice as she watches me from across the bar. I try to keep it coy and pretend that I don’t see her eying me. I make a bit of casual conversation with the people I walked in with, they’re all busy talking about things they’ve heard or movies they want to see. I enjoy getting absolutely no notice of the fact that I’m the Jamie McMurray, famed pretty boy of Roush Racing.

But there is one set of eyes that I’ve enjoyed on me. Hers, ever since Shannon had walked off she’d been watching me. I could feel her undressing me and staring at my chest and abs. I knew she obviously didn’t have much experience with guys or else she wouldn’t have been staring so hard-core. That and I doubt that she’s ever met a guy who uses more beauty products than she did. It does cause a lot of the guys I run with to harass me, especially Harvick’s smart ass. And I may get more numbers from my waiters than waitresses, but I enjoy the attention. Well, most of the time.

I look up as she starts to head back over to me with a platter and glass in hand. She sets them down and seems to be about to ask if I want anything else when her manager slips by quickly and tells her she can go on break if she wants to. Her eyes seem to light up as she looks back at me. I pretend that I don’t hear her manager and I decide I’ll use it to break the ice further.

“Would you mind…staying, a bit?” I ask, trying to be meek.

She nearly does a cartwheel into the chair beside me. “Oh sure, I’m on my break anyway.” She takes off her small apron and sets it under the cushion out of sight.

“Like a drink?” I offer her the glass of water she’d brought me when I first arrived.

“Thanks. I haven’t had a drink all day.” She takes it and gulps it down quickly. As she sets the glass down she realizes how much she’s drank and how fast. She looks away slightly embarrassed and I soften at the thought, this poor thing thinks she’s looking rough after waiting a few tables…if she could even attempt my job.

“Man…they must work you guys like slaves.” I try to steer the conversation in a positive manner so that she’ll open up more.

“Yeah, it can get pretty rough in here sometimes. I try to keep a happy face on though.” She finishes quietly. It’s rather amusing to watch this poor thing kick herself for being so insufficient with men. Kind of cute how she wants to be perfect for me.

“So, what’s it like living in the big city of Fort Worth?” I try to put more interest into her so that she’ll open up finally…and stay off the subject of me.

“Oh I actually don’t live here, I live about 20 minutes away in Arlington. Where do you live…?” She trails off waiting for my name. Oh great, hopefully she knows nothing about Nascar.

“Jamie,” I tell her flashing a coy smile. She starts to tint red again but catches herself. I get up off the couch I’m on and find a new one that’s a love seat. “Shall we?” I ask, gesturing to the seat next to me.

“Of course!” She nearly jumps out of her chair and plops next to me on the squishy pillows. She struggles to keep from leaning towards me, so I do instead. I lean over and get right beside her. As I slide my arm around the couch behind her I see her knuckles get slightly white as she grips her knees.

“So…how’d you get roped into a gig like this?” I ask. I know if I can get her to start talking she’ll gush like Niagara. I let my arm fall lightly across her shoulders and feel her start to get nervous.

“I umm…just needed a job…while I’m taking classes…to be a masseuse. I’ve always wanted to…do something like that. Work with people, make lots of money easily.” She starts to look around the bar, finding the scenery that encases her daily suddenly interesting.

“Well…do you still have time to go out and unwind?” I’m about ready to whip out a recorder and tape these huge amounts of information for later review. This girl’s turning out to be as interesting as a lecture on turning left.

“I try to garden some. But it’s hard since I have an apartment. I keep trying though, I know I’ll get a talent for it one day.” She starts to twiddle a lock of hair falling loosely against her ear.

Maybe I should steer it towards me…I wonder. “That’s cool…do you ever watch racing?” I hope that she’ll be into it at least a little. Maybe then I’ll find out if this girl is human or not. This is ironic…at first I didn’t want to even fathom racing, now I’m dragging her towards it I think.

“Not really…I’ve heard about that one guy…Dale Gordon the III or whatever his name is.” She turns towards me with a face that I’ve seen only on doctors breaking death news. “I don’t like racing because the tires aren’t properly disposed of and it damages the environment. Also, the gas emissions are devastating to the ozone. Not to mention that the drivers are all ugly rednecks.” She finishes with a matter-of-factly tone.

My jaw drops open and I cock an eyebrow at her. “I’ve gotta go,” I say acidly as I push up off the couch.

“Huh? Why?” She seems all kinds of offended now that I’m leaving.

“My redneck boyfriend, Elliott Sadler needs me to help him get his car right for tomorrow’s race.” I storm for the door but stop just before I leave, I turn around one final time. “And I’m gonna pit as much as I can!”  

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Jaik - jaik@cryptoffic.com