Page 25 of Little Psycho

The finish line is the only thing on our minds as we zip down the street, the roar of the engines drowning out everything else.The three of us may have come from very different backgrounds than the other racers, but out here on the streets of the underground, we’re all fucking equals.

I forget about the other cars in the race and focus on myself, seeing the checkered flags near the finish line just up ahead after the curve.Dropping gears, I ease off the pedal and grip the wheel tighter, turning just enough to take the curve with perfection and not spin out or drift out of first place.

Glancing in my rear view, I see Dom behind me and Kill coming up close behind him, the three of us crossing the finish line simultaneously.The crowd swarms around our cars as we park and get out, eager to collect our winnings from Five.

“Still wanna keep your slow piece of shit?”Dom asks Killian, laughing as he slaps his palm against the back of his shoulder.

“Fuck yeah.I still came in third, so I’ll take it.”

After collecting our prize money, I anxiously scan the crowd for the blonde girl I saw earlier, wondering if she watched the race and if she’s still here.But I don’t see her, which surprisingly has me feeling a little bummed, and I’m not even fucking sure why.

“Yo, Five?”I ask, turning around to face him.

“What’s good, Ash?”He lights a cigarette, his eyes flicking up to his apartment, a small grin appearing on his lips.

“That blonde you were talking to earlier—who was she?”

He smirks, flashing a subtle wink as Dom and Kill head for the bodega to grab a few beers and a blunt wrap.“Ah, you talking about Little Mystery?”

“I guess.The chick you were with right when the race started,” I point out, feeling annoyed that he’s beating around the bush.

“Yeah, that’s Little Mystery.Why, what’s good?”He looks at me with intrigue, trying to play it cool, but I can see the hesitation behind his eyes.

“What’s her name, and where did she go?”

“Uh, I think Addy, and she left right before the race ended.Why?”He pulls me off to the side where the noise is less hectic.

“Never mind, she just reminded me of someone I used to know, but Addy isn’t her name.”I shrug, disappointed, even though I know it's a long shot that the girl could be Calista.

Still, I was fucking hoping it was her.

“She’s staying with me for a few days, so I’m sure you’ll get to meet her eventually.”He flashes another wink, this one not subtle at all.

I shake my head, not wanting to meet another groupie.“Nah, I’m all set, but thanks.”I force a smile and pull out a smoke, lighting it as I walk back over to the guys.

I take a deep drag off the Marlboro, trying to shake the feeling of unease that lingers within me.As we leave, I can’t help but wonder if the intriguing ‘Little Mystery’ is somehow connected to my past—to the pieces of my life that I’ve been piecing together ever since shit changed all those years ago.

“Ready to smoke?”Dom asks, handing me the already rolled blunt.

“Yeah, I’m ready to get fucked up.”

Once we’re all settled back in our cars, I feel a sense of anticipation growing within me.The street lights drape across the asphalt like a finish line beckoning us, and the roar of the engines fills the night as we speed off down the road to the parking garage.

I still can’t stop thinking about that girl and how quickly she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.But I push aside the strange feeling of longing and confusion that courses through me and join my brothers as we head into our rundown apartment to celebrate another victory.

* * *

The second myback hits the worn cushion and I sink into the couch, I close my eyes, feeling the effects of the alcohol vigorously coursing through me.I succumb to the darkness that overtakes me, and slowly, I begin drifting off to sleep, even as the room spins around me.But of course, that sleep is short-lived.

My eyes fling open, hearing loud, angry pounding on our front door.Killian looks at me wide-eyed, dropping the straw he just used to snort a line of coke onto the table beside the leftover residue.Dom curses up and down, angrily throwing the needle he was shooting up with—currently filled with blood—and removing the torn leather belt from around his upper arm.

“Who the fuck is that?”he asks, narrowing his pinned, hooded eyes as he gets up with a huff.

“No fucking clue,” I say, my voice raspy from the cocktail of Dilaudid and liquor streaming through my veins.

“It’s fucking three am,” he groans, stomping to the door, hardly giving us time to hide the drugs and paraphernalia scattered all over the table.

Looking through the peephole with one hand on the doorknob and the other on his gun tucked in the back of his sweats, his entire body noticeably stiffens, and every bit of color drains from his face.

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