BANE OF HIS EXISTENCE

Chapter 21: PARTY LIFE.

MAYA.

(PREVIOUSLY ON B.O.M.E)

Sasha's infectious enthusiasm erupted into a shout: "We should dance!" She grabbed Eric and me, pulling us onto the dance floor as the iconic beats of 50 Cent's "In Da Club" pulsed through the air. I burst out laughing at Eric's absurdly awesome robot dance moves. Being the loyal friend that I am, I couldn't resist joining in – leaving him to bust a move solo would have been cruel! Together, we grooved to the music, our goofy antics drawing smiles from the surrounding partygoers.

Sasha gazed over at Eric and me, an entertained glint in her eye. She shrugged in a knowing, affectionate way, as if to say, "This is just another day with these two weirdos." Without hesitation, she joined our robotic dance party, her movements effortlessly syncing with ours.

As we danced, our laughter erupted into contagious, tear-inducing fits. The three of us let loose, lost in the joy of the moment, our worries and cares forgotten in the pulsating lights and thumping beats of the dance floor. But as the music reached its crescendo, my mind began to wander back to the events of earlier that day, memories that threatened to disrupt the carefree atmosphere of our night.

-------Two hours ago. Bike racing----

Despite the reassuring text message I'd received just seconds ago, my mind is still racing with worst-case scenarios, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. My heart thudded erratically in my chest as I envisioned all the ways things could go horribly wrong if my opponent reneged on his promise. Pushing aside my doubts, I jammed my phone into the pocket of my cargo pants, the fabric ripping slightly as I did so. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, but I focused on the task at hand. I straddled my bike, waiting for the starter's signal to launch into the night, the darkness seeming to vibrate with anticipation.

One thing I've learned from making deals with shady characters is that nothing is set in stone until the payoff meeting. It's a precarious gamble, really – both parties are relying on a fragile thread of trust, with no guarantee that the other will hold up their end of the bargain.

Embarking on such a deal is a perilous roll of the dice, a perilous leap of faith that borders on recklessness. The parties involved are often ships passing in the night, without the luxury of a prior meeting to establish trust. And even then, there's no ironclad guarantee that either side will uphold their end of the bargain, granting the requested favor or making good on the payoff. Yet, I'm willing to take this gamble, banking on the notion that this particular deal will defy the odds, precisely because the stakes are so perilously high – and I'm not just talking about the monetary rewards.

The night air rushed past me as I sped forward, my bike's engine roaring in my ears. But my reverie was short-lived. I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart skipped a beat as I spotted Andrew closing in, his bike mere inches from mine. He was riding aggressively, clearly determined to overtake me and put as much distance between us as possible.

My mind snapped back into focus, and I cursed myself for the lapse. "Crap!" I muttered, my grip on the handlebars tightening. I'd been so lost in thought that I'd almost forgotten the high-stakes race unfolding around me. It was time to get my head back in the game.

This race transcended monetary stakes; it was about pride, bragging rights, and settling a long-standing score. I wasn't about to throw in the towel and hand Andrew the win on a silver platter. Not only would that put my life at risk, but I also knew Andrew wouldn't appreciate a hollow victory. He wanted to win fair and square, and so did I.