Alex
I dump my bag on the floor as I enter the apartment, and head straight for the kitchen. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten a single thing for almost an entire hour. Ripping open the fridge door I inspect the contents. “You know you don’t actually live here, right?”
I look behind me to find Abby sitting at the kitchen table with an annoyed look on her face. “Oh, hey Short Stack. Didn’t see you there.” I smirk at her. You know Abby, right? Brant’s girlfriend? She loves me.
“You’re so annoying.” She sighs and goes back to stuffing her nose in a book.
Okay, so maybe this isn’t technically my place, but I don’t want to go to mine. There’s nobody else there, and it’s too quiet. I don’t like quiet. I can’t stand it.
“Brant around?” I ask through a mouthful of potatoes. She points her pen in the direction of their bedroom. I take two sausages from the fridge and stuff it into my bowl. What? I’m a big dude.
I let myself into their room to find Brant up on a chair hammering a nail into the wall.
“Hey, man,” he gives me a nod as I flop down on the bed. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I shrug. “Just came to find out if you’re gonna be at the race tonight.”
“And to eat my food.” He grunts out as he hangs the painting and jumps off the chair. “I don’t know why you do it.” Brant shakes his head at me.
“Eat your food?” The spoon freezes in front of my mouth, and I raise my eyebrows.
“No, dumbass. Why you keep risking your life in those races.”
“You know why I do it.” I shrug and stuff the spoonful of potatoes in my mouth. I take my eyes off the expression on his face. I know what he’s thinking.
“It’s not just for money, Alex.” See? Told you so, Cheerio. Whatever. Who cares if he’s right. I don’t have many good memories but the ones I have all involve cars. And being behind the wheel, going at certifiably insane speeds, only ever on the very of edge of being in control. It’s a fucking rush. So, what if it’s illegal? I get paid a lot of money doing it. Dude, you have no idea how much money gets you. I have things now that are mine. That nobody can take away and that feels fucking great. Yeah, I could do one of about a handful of other jobs, but I’m good at this. Fuck, I’m great at it. I’m the best I’ve ever seen at this. And like I said…
“So, what if I like it, man?” I sound defensive, and it’s because I know what’s coming.
“I don’t care if you like it, man. I’m worried about why you like it…” Yup, called it. I leave the thought hanging in the air. This is what you get after you get drunk, and spill your guts to your best friend. It’s been like this ever since.
“It gets me chicks.” I shrug. “So, are you gonna be there or not, asshole?”
“Yeah, man,” he sighs.
“Great, there’s a party at the frat afterward. Tell Short Stack to wear something sexy for me.” That gets a laugh out of him. He knows I’m not serious. I would never dream of getting with Abby. Brant is my best friend, and the only person I can call mine. Not in a weird I’m-in-love-with-my-best-friend way, come on. I just don’t have much in the way of family, and before I came here, I’ve never been in one place long enough to make any friends. After four years, he’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. So maybe I do idolize the asshole a little bit, and maybe I would take a bullet for the guy.
Besides, Abby wouldn’t even give me the time of day. That makes her the second woman who’s not into me. My mind drifts back to the redhead from the party. Damn, she was hot. And that balloon thing? Fucking adorable, man. I frown as I get up from the bed and wave goodbye to Brant. Sucks that she has a boyfriend.
“Bye, beautiful,” I shout at Abby on my way out.
“Bye, constant irritation.” See, she loves me.
I stuff my earphones back into my ears as I close their door behind me. The sounds of The Rolling Stones fill my ears. Damn, it’s hard to stay in a bad mood to the opening chords of . Listen to it and tell me I’m lying. Let me tell y’all something about music. There is no such thing as bad music. It’s like said, “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.” Music can take you to a million places all at once or keep you steady in one. It can create the biggest high, or get you to the lowest place. It can say things you don’t even have the words for. And, it’s awesome to fuck to.
I’m already bopping my head and shaking my ass when I’m out of the building. I turn the volume up when Mick Jagger starts to shout ‘Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. WHOOOO!” And then it hits. I start running with the music blaring in my ears, playing the same song on repeat. And I feel no pain. I let the almost euphoric feeling wash over me as I run through the streets. My feet pound the pavement I cross, and my breathing becomes harder. I keep pushing and punching the air, clinging to that feeling.
I’m exhausted by the time I reach my apartment. I don’t waste any time here. I grab two apples from the kitchen and start peeling my clothes off on the way to the shower. I eat my apples in the shower because who has time to waste. I’m dressed in jeans and sneakers in five minutes and I pull a shirt over my head on the way out again. I run down the stairs as I secure the beanie on my head and come to a stop in front of my one true love in life.
A sky-blue Ford Shelby GT-500. Fuck me; she’s a sexy bitch. All the trimmings too. I spend as many hours on her as I do inside her. Sound sexual? Good. It’s supposed to. I have fine-tuned her into the perfect beast.
I jump inside her and make my way out of the underground parking lot, the sounds of her growling engine echoing through the basement. I thumb through my and settle on as I ease my car out into the street and head towards where the race will be.
We are all notified of races happening on the day. An address is texted from an unknown number; sometimes you have all day to prepare for it, sometimes the text comes an hour before it starts. Being the upstanding, law abiding organization that it is, those locations are never in the kind of place you’d want to lose your wits in. Tonight’s location is way out of town, and once I get there, there are already hundreds of people milling through the cars standing around. I find a parking space and get out of the car. I greet a few people with a handshake, and then go in search of Erik. I’m stopped when I feel a creepiness crawling up my spine. I turn my head to find a pair of eyes trained on me. The eyes belong to a man whose features I can’t quite make out from the shadows. The only thing I can make out is the toothpick hanging from his lips. Racers come to race, girls come to get with racers, and other come to make money off who wins or loses. Bookies are always around, and depending on how many dollars are in your pocket, you could walk away with more money than the winning racers in bets. So, I’m used to seeing bad people around here. He nods at me from his place in the shadows, I narrow my eyes but continue on my way. I come to race, and sometimes I take a chick home, I don’t come to start shit with bad people.
I find Erik standing off to the side with a girl draped around his shoulders. He’s always talking about having some girl back home, but I’m pretty sure he’s making that shit up. A guy with a girlfriend doesn’t carry on the way he does, but even though they’re always around, I’ve never seen him do anything with a girl. It’s more like he carries them around as a chick carries around her bag. They seem to be more like an accessory to him than anything else. I walk over to him, and once I know my spot in the lineup, I head back to my car. I don’t particularly enjoy the guy’s company, but this and being President and VP of our frat throws us together.
I slip into my car and wait for my turn. Finally, my number is up, and I let the sounds of wash over me as I ease my baby into place. As soon as the starting drums beat themselves into my heart, I can feel the vibration from my car under me. I relax into the seat and press down on the pedal until I feel that familiar twitch in my dick. A smile splits my face when we’re given the signal to go as soon as his guttural screams fill my ears. My eyes flit across the streets for hazards, opportunities, chances to get ahead. It’s like the music takes everything else away and makes your sense keener, your body more in tune with the car underneath you. The motions of shifting gears, swerving, tensing, relaxing – over and over again, becomes like a dance, and it’s like my mind is on autopilot. I’d believe it was if it weren’t for the pounding in my heart. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I am aware of everything, like a kind of super focus and I am high. High on speed. High on Adrenaline. High on music. I fucking love this shit.
I don’t even know how I did it, but I’m miles ahead without having even blinked, and just as the last lyric is screamed into my ears, the car screeches to a halt. Jesus Christ this shit makes me horny. I rip the earphones out of my ears and jump out of the car. A crowd of people are already rushing towards me. Their screams get louder as they all try and hug or congratulate me at once. I love the attention. And, it feels good when girls rub up against my hard-on. Go ahead, roll your eyes. I don’t even care. I fucking won, baby!
Erik shoves his way through the crowd, he grabs my hand and pulls me into a man hug, shouting his congratulations into my ear. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about, baby.” The words sound strange coming from him. Like a rich white dude in school who always try to come off like he’s from the hood. I mean, that is what he’s trying to do. And while I know why I am doing it, I have no idea why he does it. The dude was born with everything. He’s good-looking, rich, smart, and president of our frat. Why would he risk everything to get into illegal street racing? Maybe he’s just rich and bored but something never quite sat well with me, but he got us an in, and I agreed to race for him for a seventy-thirty deal on winnings in my favor. I’m one of three guys racing for him on any given night, but I’m the best of any guy here.
“Gonna see you at the party?” He shouts in my ear. “Yeah, man. Gonna head there now.”
“I’ll have your cash for you then.”
“Yeah, thanks, man.” I shove past him, but I don’t miss the fact that the guy from before has been staring at me the entire time. I signal to Brant and Abby that we’re leaving. I appreciate them coming out, but there’s no way we’ll be able to hang out with this crowd. And, I’m excited to get to that party. Not because I’m getting paid, but because maybe she’ll be there, and I’ll have another shot at her. Who cares that she says she has a ‘boyfriend.’