B.R.O.N.X. (Justin Bieber Fanfiction)

"My life is already wrecked. There is nothing that can save it."

Justin

It was all too familiar, awakening memories from the past. The smell of burning tire, gasoline and booze. The sight of dozens of people leaning against cars while music blasted from their stolen stereos, beer in hand. If it hadn't brought such an acid taste to my mouth, I may have even been nostalgic. Missed the races and all that shit. But I didn't. As I parked in a free spot—also known as a patch of ground between two other cars—my skin crawled. I thought I might puke. But I swallowed and took a deep breath, forcing my stomach to settle.

Don't think about it, I told myself.

If I was honest with myself, the only reason I'd wanted to race again in the first place was to get back that sensation of pure freedom and adrenaline you got while speeding past your rivals. It was like energy pumping through your veins and into your brain, until all you could see was the track in front of you and the steering wheel. It was dangerous—very dangerous—but that just made it the more exciting. And you know what they say, the more the merrier.

I unfastened my seatbelt, and hopped off the car, knowing I wouldn't be gone for long. Most people didn't even turn around to check me twice. A lot of new people in the business, I guess. The ones I did know clapped my back or said 'Good to see you back'. I was touched they even remembered me after more than two years. Ha. Not really.

I found Anthony easily. He was around the starting line with his men, smoking a cigar. I lit up a cigarette for myself. If Brooklyn found out I was smoking like a chimney again, she'd kill me. Not that she didn't have enough reasons to want to kill me already. I'd been a prick to her after everything she'd done for me and my family. I knew I had to apologize, but for what exactly? Hey, I'm sorry I'm hiding things from you and treating you like shit. I'm still not going to tell you what I'm doing in my free time, though. Will you forgive me anyway?

I knew she wouldn't put up with my crap much longer, but for now I pushed thoughts of her to the side. I needed to concentrate for the race. I needed the numbness, the nothingness to envelop me. I needed to forget about my fucked-up existence for a while.

Anthony gave me a man hug when I approached him. Secretly, I'd just come to see how much money I would be bringing home with me tonight. Mom thought I was out with guys—or at least she pretended she did—but I knew Jazmyn was putting two and two together. She must've been very observant during her hibernation period.

Anthony patted my shoulder as he exhaled the smoke of his cigar in my face. I kept myself from cringing.

"So glad to have you back, Justin. You're gonna be big one day," he said.

I wanted to snort. How big can you get in a business that's absolutely illegal, moves black money, and exposes you constantly to death?

I simply nodded. "How much?" I gestured at the wad of greens in his hand that he'd been counting before I arrived.

"Impatient, aren't we?" He chuckled hoarsely, the cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. "It's gonna be a good one tonight. Not many know you're back at it, but as soon as you show 'em what they've been missing, you'll be golden, kid."

There it was again. Kid. It took all of my willpower not to punch him. I hoped he was right. I mean, I was aware of his keeping at least half of what we made, and considering he had around 5 people racing every time, he was the one that'd be golden in no time. If I could make 200 or 300 bucks for every race, though, I was good. Mom's job was paying most of the bills, but I knew my siblings needed new clothes and stuff for school, and there was still the grocery shopping to do. And my car needed gas. And I wanted to be able to take Brooklyn out somewhere nice that wasn't Betty's or McDonald's. How did it all come back to her? Ugh.