Page 26 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“Some nigga named, Juice,” I tell her. After I heard about the race at the barbershop, I asked a few of the girls and they filled in some of the blanks for me.
“I wonder how much is the buy in.”
“A grand,” I say and her eyebrows peak.
“Did you know about this before me?” she asks.
“No. You told me you love to drive, so I found out about this.”
Her arms fly around my neck then she pecks my lips over and over. “I’ve been so busy at the hospital, I didn’t even think to see if they raced here. Thank you,” she gushes.
A group of people walk by as we embrace and one of the guys says, “Bruh, nice ride. That bitch clean.”
“It’s hers,” I say and he stops.
“Shit. We got two bad ass females with hellcats out tonight,” he says.
“Two? Where’s the other one?” she asks.
“Closer to the line. It’s a deep wine challenger.”
“Thanks.”
“Aye, my man. You know who Juice is?”
“Yeah. Short nigga with the wicks. He’s posted up in front of the black Whipple F150. You’ll see him.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you’re racing,” he says to her.
“Me too.”
He walks off and we follow. Both sides of the street are packed and lined with cars. Some are still running, blasting music and showcasing their engines, rims, and lights. Her excitement is off the meters and as we approach what appears to be the starting line, she gets even more excited. Her pretty smile is cemented on her face.
Before we reach it, a loud bull horn sounds over back-to-back and engines start to rev up. The people who are filling the street start to move off it to the shoulders. The street parts and an ATV creep by. The driver is blowing the horn and a female is standing up behind him waving two red bandanas.
“I think they are about to race,” she exclaims.
Hurriedly, we make our way to the F150. It’s off to the side but still in the road, engine and high beams on, spotlighting two motorcycles lined up right in front of the railroad track. Just like ol’ boy says, there’s a nigga with wicks posted up on it. He’s collecting money from a few people. Imani and I approach and he looks up. I watch as his eyes size me up. I’m at least twice his height.
“Who’s up after this?” she asks.
“Three races but you can be after those if you have the buy in? What’s your ride?”
“2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Redeye, with a 6.2L Hemi V8.”
“Shit!” he says, impressed and shit so am I. She sounds sexy as hell talking about her ride.
“Give me your money and I’ll find your match. Cash only though.” I reach into my pocket, pull out the cash, and hand it to him. He nods as he counts the bills. “It’s track to track, start to finish, a mile and a half. Winner takes fifteen hundred.”
“Got it,” she says while nodding.
“Come up now while the road is clear.”
Imani
“Are you nervous?” Daymir asks.
