“I want $5,000 on Mason,” I heard Benny say as I approached the betting table.

I placed my hand on his shoulder as a I came up from him behind. “You know, when you put money on me to win it just adds stress to my races.”

“Hah!” Benny said. “Even if you’re stressed out, you’re as good as any racer here tonight.”

“We’ve got the Bindino brothers racing in the sprints tonight.”

“Yeah, I saw. They’re good. But you should be more worried about Freddy Black.”

“Freddy Black?” I asked. “He’s racing here tonight?”

“I’m not sure,” Benny said. “But I saw him walking around with his goons, and he’s driving his father’s car.”

“You’re shitting me?”

Freddy was the son of Dimitri Black, one of the founders of the races at Rolling Bluff. His car, a black Porsche 911, was rumored to have over $200,000 worth of upgrades, and had won countless races. A couple years ago, Dimitri lost a sprint when his Porsche got a flat tire when coming around a bend, and during that race, he put his pink slip on the line.

That same night, the guy who won the race ended up dead in a ditch, and Dimitri ended sitting behind bars, despite claiming his innocence. Miraculously, the pink slip reappeared and apparently had yet to be signed by Dimitri, so his son Freddy took ownership of the car.

Freddy was an amazing driver, just like his father, but the fact that he had the balls to show up with his dad’s Porsche was a little shocking. I didn’t know the guy who won the race that night, but I’m sure many at the Bluff did.

“I’m not shitting you bro.” Benny placed his hand on my shoulder. “No problem for you though.”

“Yeah…” I groaned.

“Is your brother going to run the sprints?”

“No, I’m not too comfortable with him doing sprints yet. He’s sticking to drag for now.” I tilted my head towards the strip. “I should probably go check on him.”

“Alright.” Benny winked. “Tear the track up tonight.”

I chuckled and headed off.

I saw Caleb chatting with Mike near the end of the dragstrip, and as I approached he ran off towards the parking area full of cars.

“Caleb!” I yelled.

He turned and slowed down for me.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Are you racing?”

“Yeah, I’m going up against a Toyota Supra in the 3^rd race from now.”

I shook my head. “Okay, so why are you going to get your car now? Shouldn’t you be babysitting those girls you brought here?”

“I need to check that my NOS is setup properly.” Caleb turned and started to sprint away.

“Whoa, whoa!” I said and grabbed on Caleb’s shoulders. “NOS? When did you put NOS in your car? You’re not racing with nitrous oxide.”

“I installed it a few weeks ago with my friends. The RSX can fly with that stuff.”

“Yeah, it’ll make your car fly and it’ll make you lose control. I’m not letting you race with it.”

“Come on, Mason,” Caleb begged.

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“A lot of other drivers are using NOS.”

“Yeah, well that’s up to them. But if you’re racing I don’t want you do it. Too risky.”

Caleb crossed his arms and frowned.

“Listen to your brother,” I said.

Caleb sighed. “Alright, I won’t use NOS. But let me just go pull my car around for the race.”

“Alright.”

Caleb bolted off towards his car.

“No nitrous oxide!” I yelled, hammering in that I was serious.

“I got it!” he yelled back.

I shook my head from side to side as I headed back towards the strip. I figured I would grab a bite to eat and watch a little bit of the show before the night’s sprint.

It was a little worrying that Caleb had took it upon himself to install NOS in his car. I mean, I had it in The Beast, but it was there for emergencies only. I knew all too well the dangers of nitrous oxide. ‘Busting a nut’ is what a lot of drivers in The Bluff called it when you shot a load of NOS into your fuel intake. Like an erratic orgasm, your car would gain a ridiculous amount of power in a short amount of time, and the jolt of acceleration was enough that even the best driver could lose control. Braking while busting a nut was nearly impossible, and the risk of an explosion was very, very real.

I didn’t want Caleb caught up in that kind of risk, especially when I knew he got involved in cars because he was following after me. I helped him modify the RSX, which was more than enough power for him without NOS. Maybe he would be ready for something a little crazier once he finished school.

Speaking of High School, I was a bit shocked when Caleb brought the two girls to The Bluff that night. The one with the big tits—I think she said her name was Amanda—probably had no idea how much she was risking by showing up at the races with so much skin exposed. And Layla, the girl I had met earlier, damn… She looked even more gorgeous with her hair down and no backpack on. Judging by how shy she seemed, I guessed that she didn’t even know how beautiful she was or how the junk in her trunk made heads turn every time she walked by.

Sure, there were lots of other cute girls at the races, but they were older girls that could fend for themselves, not High School students. High School teeny boppers at an illegal event filled with high octane and testosterone was nothing but a liability.

My thoughts were confirmed after a I grabbed a beer from drink vendor and headed towards the food stand. There were the two girls, sitting on a bench and looking like deer in headlights as two guys tried talking to them, and from the looks of it they were being more than a bit audacious.

I let out a deep sigh.

I was not in the mood to deal with that.