CHAPTER 20: DON'T HATE THE PLAYER (PART 2)

MAYA.

I stepped into position beside Andrew, maintaining a deliberate distance between us as we faced the frenzied audience of thrill-seeking racers. My heart was racing like a jackrabbit in my chest, threatening to burst free at any moment. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss.

"What in the name of all that's sane am I doing here?" I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

Meanwhile, I passed a confident look, trying to project an air of fearlessness as the audience cheered and chanted our names. My facade was a thin veneer, but I hoped it would be enough to conceal the turmoil brewing inside me.

The announcer's voice dripped with obnoxious enthusiasm as he declared, "It was a long shot, but I knew for sure that if anyone was crazy enough to take up this challenge, it had to be none other than our very own infamous hooded rider himself!" I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck that way. Seriously, dude, calm down. I'm not exactly thrilled to be here, risking life and limb for a prize that's only marginally worth it.

Andrew's expression was a picture of bewilderment as he glanced at Hossein and Min, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was clear he hadn't expected me to accept the challenge, and frankly, I was surprised myself. Well, that makes two of us, buddy! I thought wryly. As the crew scrambled to prepare our bikes, I discreetly pulled out my cell phone and made a split-second decision to take a risky gamble.

It was a long shot, but it might just be the difference between life and death, ensuring that both Andrew and I returned home safely to our loved ones tonight.

I typed out the message with a sense of trepidation, unsure if I'd get a response. "Fifty percent of tonight's win for a safe passage into your territory. As long as both riders are unharmed." I hesitated for a moment before hitting send. To my surprise, my phone chimed almost instantly, signaling an incoming text. I glanced at the screen, and a wave of relief washed over me as I read the simple, four-letter response:

"Deal."

A small smile crept onto my face as I shoved my phone into the pocket of my cargo pants and zipped it securely. I sat securely on my bike, waiting for the starting signal that would send us hurtling into the night. The truth was, winning or losing didn't matter to me. I could easily part with the promised amount, drawing from my past winnings without dipping into my upkeep money or touching my trust fund. This was about something far more valuable – ensuring Andrew's safety, and mine. The label of "trust fund baby" didn't faze me. It was a fact, plain and simple. So, what about it?

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Three hours later, the night had transformed into a vibrant, pulsating party. Maya let out a contented sigh as she downed her drink, the warm liquid sliding smoothly down her throat. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation.

"This is what dreams are made of," she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the glass of amber liquid in her hand, the ice cubes clinking softly.

Maya used to find it amusing when people would say, "There's no time like the present." But in this moment, surrounded by the thrum of music and the joyful laughter of friends, she couldn't agree more. The present was all that mattered, and she was determined to live it to the fullest, letting go of worries about the past or future. The here and now was all that counted, and Maya was reveling in its beauty.

Sasha sauntered up to me, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence. You sure took your sweet time, didn't you?" she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I downed the remaining liquor in my glass, making a point to smack my lips loudly, just to provoke her. Sasha's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You knew I'd take my time getting here," I said, meeting her gaze with a mischievous glint in my eye. "And deep down, you're glad I'm here." Sasha's eyes flashed with mock anger, and she made a playful swipe at me, but I dodged out of the way just in time, chuckling at her antics.

"That darn smart mouth of yours will be your downfall one of these days," Sasha warned, shaking her head in exasperation. "Just you wait, Eric will be here soon enough, and then you'll be sorry."

I cracked my knuckles, a confident smirk spreading across my face. "You know I'm not scared of him. I can take him down anytime." Sasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

Just then, as if summoned by our conversation, Eric emerged from the crowd, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Ah, speak of the devil!" Sasha exclaimed, pointing at him. I chuckled, loud enough for Eric to hear. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."

Eric stopped in front of us, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Please, if that were true, you'd pop up every time I mention your name," he scoffed, his voice laced with sarcasm. Sasha burst into laughter, her eyes shining with mirth.

"Oh, Eric, you're the perfect match for this smart mouth of theirs!" she exclaimed, still chuckling.

I chuckled, impressed by Eric's quick wit. "Ohh, homeboy's got jokes now, huh? That was a solid comeback, I won't lie. But you still have a lot to learn, my boy," I said, giving him a light, playful tap on the shoulder. Eric shot me a mock glare, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

After a moment, Eric quipped, "Hanging out with you and Sasha all these years has clearly rubbed off on me... in all the wrong ways." Sasha's face contorted in a dramatic pout, her voice rising in mock indignation.

"Hey, what did I do?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. I couldn't help but stifle a laugh as I gave her a gentle rub on the back, trying to placate her. Sasha grumbled good-natured, still playing the role of the affronted baby.

Eric handed us bottles of premium, sealed liquor, his expression thoughtful. "Here you go. This way, you know exactly what you're drinking." I smiled, touched by the considerate gesture. Where had he managed to procure these?

Eric's question broke the brief silence. "So, how was the scream house?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. I grinned mischievously.

"It was...therapeutic, as always. You guys really missed out." Sasha let out a dramatic gagging sound, and I playfully pushed her. "Oh, stop it!" Eric chuckled at our banter.

The scream house was an exclusive, secretive spot that only a select few of us frequented. Its allure wasn't just due to the hefty membership fee; it offered a unique, adrenaline-fueled experience that was hard to find elsewhere.

Let's face it, the scream house isn't for the faint of heart. Eric would never set foot in there; the noise levels would be too much for him. And Sasha? Forget it. She'd rather preserve her immaculate nails and cute outfit than risk getting sweaty and disheveled from smashing junk. I mean, girls are supposed to be delicate, right? Please. They just didn't want to admit they were scared. Newsflash: it's okay to be scared. But no, they'd rather come up with lame excuses. Weaklings.

As you've probably gathered by now, the scream house is our go-to spot for unleashing pent-up frustration – a place where we pay a hefty fee to smash and break things to our heart's content. It's like an extreme amusement park, but instead of roller coasters and cotton candy, you get to sign waivers and assume all responsibility for your own safety. I confess, I've been using the scream house as a cover story for my nocturnal activities – and my friends have no idea I've been participating in an illicit underground racing scene. But the scream house has grown on me; I've developed a strange fondness for the cathartic release of smashing junk.

Just then, Sasha exclaimed, "We should dance!"

Sasha's infectious enthusiasm swept us up, and she dragged Eric and me onto the dance floor just as the DJ spun "In Da Club" by 50 Cent. The iconic beat dropped, and Eric, being the lovable goofball that he is, launched into a hilariously awkward robot dance. I couldn't resist joining in, laughing out loud as we performed our mechanical moves in perfect sync. It would have been cruel to leave him to bust a move alone!

Sasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eye, as if to say, "This is just another day with these two." She shrugged good-natured and dove into the dance party with us. Together, we let loose, our laughter and music-fueled joy drawing a crowd of onlookers.

For one fleeting moment, the stresses of the day melted away, and we were free to be our quirky, carefree selves. But as the song reached its climax, my mind began to wander back to the events of earlier that day...