Owen pulled in behind a nondescript sedan. “Don’t let its looks fool you. That car is a beast under the hood.”
“Sleeper car,” I said.
“Someone used Google.”
I laughed. “Shut up, man. I grew up around cars. You think we never got requests for parts or labor?”
“Mark does all his own work. He’d never be able to afford a mechanic.”
“Neither can you,” I pointed out. “At least, not without asking Daddy.”
He shoved me. “Fuck off. Let me introduce you to Mark. I gotta brag a little.”
He led the way over to a stout guy in a leather jacket with an intense stare. “Yo, Mark! I brought my secret weapon tonight.”
Mark glanced over. “A better driver?”
I laughed as Owen scowled.
“No, you fucker. A mechanic.” He gestured toward me. “Bailey Steele. He’s tricked me so I can compete with any car on the scene. After I take you down, I’m gunning for Christian next week. His money won’t buy him a win this time.”
Mark assessed me. “You really know what you’re doing?”
“Spent about a decade working in my family’s auto shop.”
“I guess you do know a thing or two.” Mark shook my hand. “Sorry you’ve got to put up with this asshole. You ever want to talk shop with someone else?—”
“Okay, enough trying to poach.” Owen grabbed my arm and led me toward the next car. “Let’s chat up Nyx. He’s got another new car, like that’ll save him. Poor asshole.”
“Is Petie coming out tonight?” I asked.
His BFF had seemed just as into racing as he was when I met them at the pool hall. Owen nodded. “He’s got some shit to deal with, but he’ll come by later.”
We spent the next half hour shooting the shit with every driver. They all trash-talked each other, and I got the impression most of them didn’t like Owen much. The only guy they seemed to like less was Christian, the rich driver Owen had been bitching about the night I met him.
“Time to race!” a rail-thin redhead called. “Get in your cars, fuckers. Let’s get this show started.”
Owen flashed me a grin. “That’s my cue. You better hope this nitrous oxide shit works. If I don’t win, I’m coming for your ass.”
“You could just say thank you!” I called after him.
Mark sidled up to me. “Owen’s an asshole. How’d you get reeled in by him?”
“Eh, I humiliated him at pool.”
Mark snorted. “Uh, okay, how does that equate to you fixing up his car?”
“Good question,” I said. “Guess I was a little restless. I’m a mechanic, but I got shipped off to school, and I missed the work.”
“Ah, you’re the real deal, then,” Mark said, patting my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor, though, and cut Owen loose.”
Mark hopped into his car and pulled it into the road alongside Owen so they could race together. Engines revved. The ginger dude held up a hand, standing a few feet in front of them in the thin slip of asphalt between them, and yanked his hand down.
They shot forward, Owen leaping to the front while Mark seemed more intent on pacing himself.
One of the other guys showed me an app that would play dash cam footage for each car, so we could watch their path on-screen.
Petie pulled up just as the second set of cars drove onto the asphalt, preparing for their turn.
