Page 117 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
Anyway, Milicent catches my attention straight-off.
“Anyone else notice the distinct lack of police presence in Prescott? Where are all the random traffic stops, the illegal raids so the cops can smoke all our good weed? If you ask me or anyone else who’s lived in Prescott long enough, there’s a conspiracy goin’ on. Less cops mean less arrests.
It’s like, go ahead Mayor Kelly, tell your constituents in the more affluent parts of Springfield that you’re cleaning up crime on this side of the tracks. You ain’t done shit but act like there’s nothing goin’ on over here. How is that right?
My two cents: don’t go out after dark unless you’ve got a good crew. Not that the police were ever truly on our side, but there’s been a lot more gang activity on these streets recently. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was eggin’ ‘em on.”
Milicent lets out a long, tired-sounding sigh.
“Anyway, here’s a favorite of mine: this is “Redline” by Escape the Fate. I’m out for the night. Sleep tight, Prescott.”
I start my car, making my way down to the track to line up alongside Alexei. I’ve been doing a lot of these one-on-one gigs lately, but I really do enjoy a full lineup. Whatever. As long as I get what I need out of this.
A small pang hits me, making my chest tight. I need to avenge my girl and take care of my crew, but I’ve got bigger dreams. I want to dig my claws into the vintage car races in Portland and start making some legitimate money with my skills.
I can’t lose sight of that.
Narrowing my life to Prescott won’t do me any good.
I’ve got eight months till graduation, but just another few weeks until my birthday. I’d drop out of Prescott, get my GED, and focus on my career but … I’d worry too much about my girls. I’ll just ride this thing out until June, snatch my diploma up (not that a Prescott High diploma is worth much—my aunt makes $12.75 an hour which is Oregon state’s minimum wage), and make sure there’s a new queen to take my place.
I don’t give a fuck what the Prescott boys do after I leave, but for the girls, I’ve got my eyes on Shirley’s cousin—a tough chick named Stacey Langford.
I glance over to the right, to where Alexei is waiting, his gloved hands on the wheel.
It’s not raining today so hopefully there won’t be any more freak accidents with tree branches or whatever the fuck. The track is still muddy as shit, but this morning, I called in a favor from one of my girl’s older brothers and had him bring his bulldozer over to flatten it out a bit.
It’s as fresh and smooth as it gets over here in fall or winter.
I won’t have much of an advantage right now; it’ll be my skills behind the wheel up against Alexei’s.
A smirk curves across my lips as I turn back to the track.
The song switches over to “Halloweenie IV: Innards” by Ashnikko, and I grin. It’s perfect, considering that the holiday is coming up on us fast. Halloween gets weird here in Prescott. I’m guessing Bohnes will be throwing one of his pop-up parties. I can’t say that I’m not looking forward to it.
If I get groped by another guy, would he cut his dick off for me?
That’d be romantic.
Not that I want or need romance. Jesus, what is wrong with me?!
The green flag flashes, and off we go. I let Alexei take the lead so I can study his driving style. If I suspected him of being careful or cautious—you know, because of his skittish nature about germs and whatever—then I was wrong.
He’s a speed demon.
He blasts down the straights and eats the curves for breakfast as I raise both brows. Wow. I didn’t expect that. Really didn’t expect him to turn into the slides as his wheels spin in the mud, using it to his advantage.
“Well okay, Rich Boy,” I say with a laugh, cranking up the music even more. I lick my lips, shifting gears and picking up speed in a way I haven’t been able to recently, not with the track the way it’s been. But today?
Oh yeah. I’m about to show off my driving skills paired with Bastian’s expertise beneath the hood. Not sayin’ I couldn’t manage without him, but my true love is speed and stunts. I like to do things that make other people blanch or curl up on themselves. I love the adrenaline, the speed. I’d go so far as to say that I’m addicted to it.
Bastian, as much as I love him, is only okay behind the wheel. But put a wrench in his hand and he’s a god.
I show off the modifications to the Devil by outpacing Alexei like it’s nothing.
