Speed

Chapter 19

A week had flown by since Ryan's kick-back turned film festival birthday bash, the days a blur of laughter, lingering conversations, and shared looks that spoke volumes. The rhythm of daily life resumed, each of us caught up in our own whirlwinds of activity, yet bound by the anticipation of what was to come. It was under this canopy of unspoken excitement that Jordan proposed a meeting, a gathering of minds and spirits aimed at plotting our next great adventure: participating in a huge car meet in the coming weeks.

The setting for our strategy session was none other than our trusty garage, transformed back from a cinema into its original state, albeit a bit cleaner and more organized than its usual chaos. The space felt familiar, a backdrop to countless memories and plans, its walls now echoing with the hum of anticipation for what was to be discussed.

As Jordan, Ryan, and I, along with a few members of our crew, gathered around the makeshift table we'd set up, the air was thick with the scent of oil and rubber—a reminder of the many late nights spent tinkering and talking, the garage a witness to the evolution of our friendship and shared passions.

"Alright, team," Jordan began, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and leadership, the kind that had always made him a natural at rallying the crew. "We've got an opportunity to make a statement at this upcoming car meet in Los Angeles. It's not just about showing off what we've got under the hood; it's about coming together, making an impact."

The group nodded, the shared energy palpable, a current of readiness and anticipation buzzing through the air.

Ryan leaned in, his enthusiasm undimmed by the late hour. "We're in. You know we've been itching for a chance to really put ourselves out there. This meet could be huge for us."

I chimed in, the idea sparking a thrill of excitement within me. "Definitely. It's a chance to showcase not just the cars, but who we are as a crew. We've got something unique, and it's time the world saw it."

Jordan smiled, the confidence and vision in his gaze infectious. "Exactly. But if we're going to do this, we need to be strategic. It's not just about turning up; it's about making an entrance, making sure we stand out."

After the initial rush of planning and excitement, Jordan turned the conversation towards a more serious vein, his demeanor shifting to match the gravity of what he was about to propose. He leaned forward, the makeshift table between us suddenly feeling like the boardroom of high-stakes decisions.

"Listen, there's something else we need to consider for this car meet. It's not just about showing up and showing off. There are high stakes involved, and I mean really high," Jordan began, his voice carrying a weight that immediately captured our full attention.

Ryan, always ready for a challenge, leaned in, interest piqued. "What kind of stakes are we talking about?"

Jordan glanced around, ensuring he had everyone's undivided attention, before continuing. "Pink slip racing and bets in the ten thousands. It's big money and even bigger risks."

The revelation hung in the air, a palpable shift in the room's atmosphere as the implications of Jordan's words sank in. The idea of pink slip racing, where the loser hands over their car to the winner, was not new to us, but the scale of the bets was another realm entirely.

I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension churn in my stomach. "Ten thousand? That's... that's not small change. Are we ready to gamble that high?"

Ryan nodded, his expression serious. "It's a huge risk. We're talking about our cars, our pride, and a whole lot of cash. But think about it—the reward. Winning could put us on the map, not just as a crew but as legends."