Deceit

Part 1

It seemed like ages ago that I have drove past the "California city" sign with its small population of only 14,120. And now I found myself moving along the roaring engines, walking through the breezy and dark dessert with car headlights being its only source of light.

It's Friday night at the Mojave dessert. Cars scattered around, yet close enough to intimidate their opponents. There are chatters and laughters and bidders. Young and thirsty men. Thirsty for the adrenalin, money, fame, girls or all of the above. However I'm her for two reasons, business and revenge. I'm here to collect whatever information I can get my hands on to better modify engines for my clients, and somehow get closer to finding my dads killer, and the best way to get that information is from real drag racers.

I don't necessarily have to ask them anything just look under the hood of their car while they show off their 'baby' or in other words the precious car. From there I can tell what has been modified, from the engine parts to the physical appearance.

I walked past a verity of racing cars such as 8c spider roadster, Moto 6.5, roadster, m3 sport evolution lll, skyline R34, Porsche lightweight, T350, sagaris, noble M600, Avant RS2, XJ 220 S, 959 S, etc. to name a few, many with the same make but all with different models, of course. Dresses are like cars to boys, no one should have the same car at a race.

Almost every one of the cars had nitrous and some had NASCAR engines, most had spoilers or downforce, most had highly tinted glasses, radar detectors, loud exhaust, undercarriage lighting, studded tires and other kinds of modifications. The cars didn't seem any different then the ones we modify, there was nothing out of the ordinary. I was getting pretty disappointed until I came across a silver Lotus 340R. It's engine looked different. I wasn't familiar with this kind of modification, it's was completely new to me. As I searched the engine for something familiar my eyes came across a stamp, my dads stamp, the one he used to sign his work with. I have to find out how exactly this car functions with such complex engine parts that I haven't seen but somehow it's made by my dad.

"See anything you like pretty face?" A strange voice asked. I look up to find a fine looking dude around his twenty's in black attire with a cigaret in his hand. The same hand was inked from wrist to his muscular toned upper arm with things I couldn't quite figure out in the dark.

"Your engine is different," I said, "enlighten me."

He looked amused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sorry pretty face, but a magician never reveals his tricks."

"But you're not a magician."

"Oh, but I am on the racing track," he coked his head to the side and gave me a good look from head to toe, "listen, how about after the race you come home with me and have a few drinks and then I'll tell you. Hm?"

I ran my hand across the front of his car as I stepped closer to him till I could see the brown color of eyes. "I only go home with the winners," I said while I leaned against his car.

"Then I'll see you after the race pretty face," he said cockily as he walked away to talk to the other crowd surrounding his car followed by some of his minions and girls on each side.

I scuffed after he passed me. Not even in his dreams I would go home with jerks like him.

I shifted my weight from the car and walked toward a black TVR Tuscan. This car too looked different. All the wiring and the organization was so foreign. I looked up to find the owner. He leaned against the drivers door and laid his head full of curly hair on the roof of his car staring at the cloudy sky.

"Yours?" I asked loud enough for him to hear.

He turned his head and gave me a blank stare then returned his eyes to the sky. Rude, I thought, no wonder people aren't talking to him and just admiring the car.

I was just about to leave when the hood suddenly closed, almost talking my fingers with it. I quickly looked up to yell at the rude curly dude but bite my tongue when I saw a blond girl with both of he bottom cheeks hanging out of her booty shorts pulling the curly haired guy to her self as she pulled her self up to sit on the hood of the car and pulling the guys closer to him and assaulting his body with her fresh madly long manicure hands. Just as her hands were about to go lower he suddenly grabbed both of her wrists, "don't you ever dare sit on my car again. Understood?" He snarled at her through gritted teeth and pulled her down from the hood. She looked annoyed as she huffed and walked away to find another dude to entertain. And for one last time we both locked eyes, his expression being blank as it once was.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" A loud voice made me divert my eyes from his to the sound. "ALL RACERS PLEASE ALIGN BEHIND THE WHITE LINE," said a black men with a backward snap back and heavy gold chains around his neck while with one hand he held stack full of cash and in the other a megaphone. At his demand everyone cleared up the track and I followed the crowd to the sideline but stayed silent unlike the rest of the crowd and watched the race. The cars aligned in four rows and three behind each row; maybe a total of 12.

It's Friday night, racers sitting behind highly fast sports car with engines revving are these young men staring each other down, their feet poised over the gas pedal, the anxiously await the girl with short blond hair with booty shorts and hanging cleavage and high stilettos shoes to give them the green light. I guess I didn't get the memo. She held flag on hand and finally she spoke the sacred words.

"Ready...steady...go!" The cars dropped into gear, the pedals are slammed to the floor and the cars are quickly off, screeching their tires and sending up clouds of dust.

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Hiiiiii!!!! I'm so excited for this story and I hope you readers enjoy!!! XOXO