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25 - Manson
The smell of burnedrubber, oil, and gasoline filled the air as smoke wafted through the boisterous crowd. The energy around us was palpable as people cheered and yelled, cell phone cameras flashing as I pumped the gas pedal and my tires squealed.
There were dozens of cars and hundreds in attendance at tonight’s sideshow, all of us gathered in the parking lot of an abandoned K-Mart. We were about thirty minutes outside Wickeston, and luckily, we’d had no trouble with the cops yet. Eventually, they’d get complaints about noise and traffic, then they’d show up to disperse the crowd and impound whatever they could get their hands on.
But for now, we had no fear and didn’t have a single fuck to give.
Jess hung out the open passenger window as I burned out the Mustang’s tires, her phone in her hand as she recorded the cheering crowd. All these people gathered here in the dead of night were car enthusiasts who’d come either to show off or be impressed. There were dragsters of every make and model, show cars that had been restored to pristine glory; a few people had even brought their motorcycles.
These gatherings weren’t legal; the little two-lane road was backed up for a mile because of all the traffic. There had been takeovers of multiple intersections on the way here, dumbasses blocking traffic so they could do burnouts and donuts before the cops came and chased them off. I wasn’t into that shit; I wasn’t about causing public interference with my hobbies. But gathering in an abandoned parking lot wasn’t hurting anybody, not that the police would be convinced.
I wasn’t scared of the cops either. When they showed up — and they would — I already knew they couldn’t keep up with me.
Jess cheered as I did donuts around the pit, the crowd pressing dangerously close. Lucas kept a tight hold on her belt so she wasn’t at risk of falling. He was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but her screaming laughter was getting to him.
It was just good to see them both enjoying themselves. Especially after what happened. Lucas’s bruised wrists were healed, but it was his mental health I was most concerned about. The last time Lucas had a run-in with the cops, it had fucked him up for weeks. He had a deep-seated fear of being locked up. The threat of being taken away and forced into a jail cell was terrifying to him. He’d told me before that he would rather die than go to prison.
It was different this time, and I knew it was because he’d had Jess with him. She had stayed by his side the entire time; she’d fought viciously for him. He hadn’t felt alone. He hadn’t been abandoned. And that made all the difference in the world.
Someone shouted for the crowd to step back, and I stopped showing off. It wasn’t entirely for show though; burning out the tires was going to give me better traction when I raced. My opponent was waiting for me, parked beside the traffic cone that served as our starting line.
The flagger guided me into place alongside my opponent. The crowd was eager, gathering as close as they could. Lucas locked his hands across Jess’s lap, holding her tight and close against him. Now that the windows were closed, the cheering of the crowd was muted. Jess turned up the music, moving her hips in a little dance that made Lucas growl, “If you keep grinding on me like that, I will fuck you in the middle of this crowd.”
“Promise?” Jess said sweetly.
Lucas didn’t have a chance to respond. The flagger waved us off and I slammed on the gas, launching the Mustang forward and pressing us all back in our seats. My vision tunneled, focusing on the finish line as we flew towards it.
A drag race lasted only seconds. But in the moment, I felt like everything slowed down. I was starkly aware of my own breathing as my heart pounded slow and heavy. It made the air on my arms stand on end as the engine’s power rumbled through me, tingling in my fingertips.
My opponent was fast, but I was faster. I flew past the finish line, bringing the car to a screeching halt. I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before Jess leaned over, stealing the little oxygen I had left as she pulled me into a ravenous kiss.
“That was so fast!” she said, parting from me with a wide smile. “Holy shit, you kicked that guy’s ass! I’m still shaking.” She held up her hand so I could see. Her fingers trembled with excitement, and I grasped them to hold them still.
“Did you like that?” I said, and she nodded quickly.
“That was such a rush,” she said. “We should do it again.”
I laughed, rolling down my window as my opponent came up to congratulate me. He was a good driver; I’d seen him at shows before.
“What the hell do you have under the hood, man?” he said, clasping my hand through the open window. I popped the hood before we all got out of the Mustang, but I waited a few minutes for it to cool down before I used a rag to lift it. Showing off our work was exactly what Lucas and I had come here to do.
Lucas let me do the talking, standing to the side with his arms wrapped around Jess. He had a hard time keeping his hands off her, and I couldn’t blame him. Even as I conversed with other drivers and curious onlookers, I couldn’t keep my gaze away from the two of them.
Lucas’s expression was hard, as usual; he looked around like he was ready to fight, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders knotted and slightly hunched. But every time Jess whispered something in his ear, every time she laughed, smiled, or teased him, his hard expression softened.
My phone pinged with a text. It was Dante, who was about to start his first race of the night. I caught Lucas’s attention and we got back into the Mustang, which I slowly drove across the lot. I found Lucas’s El Camino and parked beside him, before giving Dante a call to figure out exactly where he was.
It still took us several minutes of wandering through the crowd before we found him. I recognized the sound of his T-bird’s engine before I saw him, the deep rumble standing out to me. I knew that car, inside and out, and I knew its sound just like I knew the sound of my own.
“Mr. Reed, my man,” Dante bumped his knuckles to mine, then Lucas and Jess. “Y’all ready to see what this baby can do?”
His opponent was driving a fierce-looking Pontiac, but I didn’t have the slightest doubt Dante would win. We stepped back to a safe distance as the flagger stood between the vehicles, checking to see that both drivers were ready. I preemptively put my hands over Jess’s ears.
“What are you doing?” she said, but she got her answer the moment the flagger gave the signal to start. She’d heard loud cars before, but she hadn’t heard Dante’s Inferno.
The Thunderbird launched forward so hard that its front tires momentarily left the ground. The engine’s roar was ear-splitting. It rumbled through my entire body and left my skin itching. Lucas timed Dante’s speed, and when the T-bird rocketed past the finish line, he pumped his fist in victory.
