There’s a similarity between sex and racing cars. They’re both exhilarating. They both get your heart pumping.
But there’s nothing that beats the way a woman sounds when she’s screaming your name because you’ve popped her hood and taken her from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.
Racing can’t give you that kind of high.
However, I love doing it. And it helps that I’m really good at it.
Racing, that is.
Wait, I’m even better at sex. Let me start over, there’s only one thing I’m better at than fucking, and that’s racing. I’m one of the best drivers in the country. Or, I will be once I win this Borg-Warner Trophy along with the hefty prize purse.
Listen, that kind of money doesn’t usually happen to a guy like me.
You know, the wrong side of the tracks type of a guy.
I just have to get through tonight. I take a deep breath as my car engine revs to life.
The pretty blonde flagger, standing in the dark streets with nothing but the lights of the city behind her, slips her white panties down her long legs. She’s got a short little skirt, legs that go on for days, and I watch closely as she holds her panties high above her head, signaling the race is about to kick off.
Street racing is technically illegal, but only if you get caught. And me, I don’t plan on getting caught tonight. The stakes are too high. Brax has something I need.
I stare into his dark eyes through the window of my Dodge Viper SRT-10 and laugh. He’s driving a Skyline, and it ain’t got shit on what I’m packing.
My car’s quick, nimble, and highly suped-up with all the right kinds of things I need to make this an absolute win for me.
Thanks to Kav.
I rev my engine once more, knowing full well I’ll smoke Brax before he even knows what’s coming.
I close my eyes for a split second, breathe, and when I open them, the blonde throws her hands down and I punch the accelerator.
Street racing has been a long time sport around here. But I grew up in the streets of LA. And street racing is almost a birthright. It all started when I met Kav years ago when I was only twelve. I was a scared little boy, unsure of my situation but I knew I wouldn’t survive on my own. I was a product of the system, growing up in foster home after foster home. But, I ran away. I hid in basements of friend’s homes until one night my friend, Darren, told me about his cousin, Kav. He took me in, no questions asked.
As I race down Sunset Boulevard, I shift into gear. This is my zone. This is where I feel free. I have zero time to think about anything else but the car under my complete control.
That’s what I like. Control. In all things. Because the minute I lose it, I know I’m fucked.
And I won’t ever let myself be like the man who raised me. The man who had zero control.
For someone who came from the gutter, I have to say I’ve done pretty well for myself. Or so the magazines say. They say I’m a king. That I’ve got real potential. That I could go all the way.
I’ve even got a ton of sponsors contacting me daily to endorse their products. All for being able to drive a car.
But it’s more than that. There’s a certain skill I possess when it comes to driving. It’s like the whole world slows down, and I can see things clearly for the only time in my life. Yes, just like something out of The Matrix.
All I know is I can’t wait for this race to end so I can get what I need from Brax.
I stare at the neon yellow car gaining on me. How can Brax even think for one second I’d lost the ability to win in a street race?
He should know better.
And I am showing him that fact right now.
We continue on down the street, my car just a hair ahead of his when I see the finish line coming up fast in the distance.
I hit the NOS and sail over the line seconds before he does.
As soon as I pull to a stop, I exit the car with a cocky smile. And I know it’s full on cockiness, full on arrogance. ‘Cause fuck this guy.
“Brax, it’s the second time you’ve lost to me.”
“Man, fuck you. You go and get a contract into the big time and you think you rule the streets of LA.”
I step closer, my eyes never leaving his dark ones. “I do own these streets.” I laugh because it’s the truth.
I was filth. Scum. And Brax knows it.
Brax also knows I’m the motherfucker calling the shots now.
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