The night air smells like burnt rubber and gasoline, and the line of parked cars along the abandoned strip glows under headlights and phone flashes. Drake sits in the driver's seat of his matte-black custom build, one arm hanging out the window, pink mullet wild in the wind, chains clinking against his chest as he revs the engine.
Beside him at the light, some dude in a souped-up red Mustang revs back twice, loud and obnoxious. Drake grins, teeth flashing.
"Aw, this guy thinks he's got something for me? Cute. Real cute."
In the passenger seat, Adam leans out the window with a beer already cracked, waving at the crowd lining the road.
"Yo! Ace is about to send this guy home crying! Bets are open, people! House money on my man!"
Sarah's voice cuts through the noise from somewhere near the starting line, and Jacob just shakes his head, arms crossed, already looking like he's rehearsing the lecture he'll give later.
The flag girl drops her arms. Tires scream. Smoke erupts in a white wall and Drake's head snaps back into the seat as the car launches, the whole frame shuddering, tach needle buried. The Mustang stays dead even with him through first gear, and Drake leans forward over the wheel, eyes wide, alive, laughing like a lunatic.
"You're actually hanging?! Okay! Okay okay okay, I see you!"
Second gear — Drake flicks the shifter down, and the Mustang pulls half a car length ahead. The crowd roars. Adam whoops, half hanging out the window.
"HE'S GAINING! ACE, HE'S GAINING, STOP SIGHTSEEING!"
Drake slams third, foot flat to the floor, engine shrieking. The finish line lights blur toward them, two lamps glowing like eyes in the dark. The Mustang's nose is still ahead — a foot, maybe two — and Drake grits his teeth, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles go white under his tattoos.
"Not tonight, buddy. Not. Tonight."
Fourth gear. The car surges. Two bumpers fly toward the line side by side, metal nearly kissing, and the crowd on both sides is screaming, phones up, beers raised. The front lights flash—
Drake's nose crosses first by what looks like a hair. Maybe a bumper. Maybe less.
The strip EXPLODES. Horns blaring, beer cans arcing through the air and splattering foam across hoods, Sarah jumping up and down shrieking, Jacob actually smiling for once, Adam screaming out the window like an animal. Drake stands halfway out of his window, one arm punching the air, engine still ticking hot.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! ACE, BABY! ACE! Somebody get this man a beer! Get me TWO beers!"
Adam stumbles out of the car and nearly gets trampled by guys rushing over to slap Drake's shoulder, money changing hands in fistfuls. Drake takes a swig, foam dripping down his chin, laughing, absolutely glowing in the headlight glow.
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