Forever Doesn't Last

IV | Street Racer

"Alright. You know the rules." A Hispanic man pulled a blunt from between his lips. "First one to cross the finish line wins. Anything goes. On my mark."

The drivers revved their engines, their headlights being the only illumination on the dark desert road before them. Chiko remained unintimidated, convinced that he could beat his amateur opponent with his eyes closed.

Easiest 6 bands I ever made. He smiled to himself, already mentally spending the money.

The kid behind the wheel to the right of him had fire engine red dreadlocks that touched his shoulders, and wore a permanent scowl, identical to the rest of the men that he arrived with.

The Grillos were decent. Better than most.

Chiko could tell that this one in particular would be a sore loser, hell, most of them were, but he didn't give a fuck. He was as good at whooping ass on the road as he was in the field.

And if that fails, well, no man was bulletproof.

Angel stood in the middle of the asphalt, a smirk playing on his bare face before he dipped his arms, signaling the start of the race. Dry wind whipped through his wavy hair from the cars' sudden movements, and the majority of the people on the sidelines cheered for the vehicle on the left.

The one that contained a notorious winner.

Side by side, they sped down the road and it wasn't long before Chiko stole the lead, much to the excitement of the wagerers in favor of his predictable victory. It was foolish to bet against either of the Fontaine brothers, but especially the oldest.

"Ha!" Chiko laughed at the young man's attempt to ram into the passenger side. He swerved off the road momentarily before regaining the upper hand and crossing the finish line.

"Let's go, baby!" Izzy whooped from the sidelines, his fist in the air.

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

"I don't see you!" Halle complained into the receiver, rolling down her window. "And why wouldn't you tell me that this was in the middle of nowhere?"

"Well, where else would an illegal street racing event be held? In someone's basement?" Sage rolled her eyes, standing on her tiptoes.

Vaughn eased his foot on the brake, bringing the vehicle to a full stop just a couple of feet behind a sizable group of people that were blocking the road. He was very skeptical of his surroundings, but he held his tongue, understanding that it wasn't his place to fill his boss's lady's with doubt.

Busy food trucks on either side of the street provided half of the lighting for the unsanctioned gathering, as well as a few pitiful streetlights spread far between each other. Many of the attendees wore glow stick necklaces and toted plastic cups of alcohol around, including Sage. Hers blinked bright red.

Intimidating leather jackets covered the shoulders of biker's as they posted up beside their two-wheelers, an unamused look on the majority of their faces.

"There she is!" Sameer pointed, guiding his older sister out of the drunken crowd, and with the tap of Sage's thumb, the call was ended.

The siblings power walked towards the snazzy Mercedes SUV that held their friend. The two of them were dressed similarly, cargo pants and graphic t-shirts. Sage's top was tight fitting and cut above the midriff, showcasing her abs while Sameer's drowned his long, slender frame.

Halle exhaled through an O-shape of her lips, mentally preparing herself to be perceived by a bunch of strangers. At this current point of her life, she didn't fit in here. That part was obvious. She'd fallen victim to the same old routine with the same old safe locations.