Page 64 of Her Sloth

I risk one glance at our work. This will hit like crazy. A smirk appears on my face.

“Three.”

I throw the crossbow in the car, shift into first gear, and then it’s what I live for: Racing.

We accelerate at full speed toward South Street.

“See you on the other side,” says Cass as we drift around the corner, she to the left, me to the right.

With that, we’re gone.

“You have seven units on tail,” says Ahmed. “Cass, they’re coming front on FDR. Addy, get lost, because you ain’t getting anywhere on the main.”

I chuckle.

“Didn’t plan to,” I say.

“How’s Brooklyn Bridge?” asks Cass.

“Too risky,” says Ahmed. “2nd up is the only choice.”

“I’m taking West,” I say as I shoot up the Avenue. “How about a flip?”

“Not necessary,” says Cass, followed by screeching tires, a roaring sound, distant crashing metal, and more roaring of the motor.

“Three out,” she says.

Badass, I think to myself.

“I’m betting 5k I can take out all mine in one go,” I say. Cass laughs. “Just because I want to see you fail.”

“I never fail,” I say in playful arrogance.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Addy,” says Jackson through the com.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll chew off your head when I get my fingers on you,” I tell him, much to Cass’s amusement.

“Ohhh someone’s triggered,” he says.

“Nah,” I say while I press the little red button to get a bit ahead of my tail on the nearly empty West Street. “You overestimate your importance on my mood.”

Cass snorts, just as everyone else does. They all unanimously love when Jackson gets his ass served by not only Cass but me, too.

“Watch me,” I say as I am at the big crossing of Canal and West, brake, spin the wheel, and draw close donuts at full power.

Smoke appears around me after ten seconds. The only ten-second window I needed.

I spin more and more until I don’t see anything but white smoke.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Jackson. “You just gave up your window.”

“Watch and learn,” I say, stop my circling and shoot into Canal. I drift in one motion and make a tight turn between two cars around the sharp corner, back onto West Street, completely ignoring the red light. Right this moment, there is nothing else. There is just me, whoever that is, the beautiful Mustang and its power. Never have I felt as powerful as right now.

Have there been close calls in the past? Many. But this here is different. This here is like breaking free. It is risking everything I am for a version of me I cannot yet see.

The cloud of my stunt hasn’t released yet, dipping the entire crossing into thick smoke, and I just sort into the normal traffic on the other lane, heading back downtown. I turn into the next crossing street left, and from there I vanish.

“Fuck me,” says Jackson. “You’re clean. Get home.”