=Late Evening, Beacon Hill=
A red mist permeated through the windshield of Suki's S2000. Brian was in the passenger seat, staring up at the building they sat parked in front. Above this mid-size warehouse, a revolving "Graphics Shop" sign constantly rotated, like it was waltzing in the clouds. Suki shut the car off and watched Brian step out, stretch himself, and smile. There was just something about the way the hot red dome light from the warehouse mixed with the fog from the ground, creating some sort of urban harmony.
Brian tossed a thumb toward the building and looked back at Suki. "So, this is you?"
"This is me, baby. My own little shop," confirmed Suki as she stepped out and twirled her keys around her finger.
On her key ring, she discarded the key to her Honda and switched to the new one she'd acquired just a few days ago, the one to her own new Graphics Shop to call home. She jammed that sucker into the warehouse door, and beckoned Brian inside. Once inside, Brian and Suki took it all in. The place was empty and bare - even more bonestock than a Camry fresh off the line. But it had potential. And most importantly, it was Suki's. Very much a dream come true for her, which was always to own a specific shop for her to work her automotive art all to herself. Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at Suki. His "little sis" had a smile that looked like it hurt, what with the way she seemed so happy that she could die.
"Y'know," started Brian, "most of us just put the money we've earned so far into our rides. Gotta say, this is a much better way to invest it. Now, we got a new place to trash up instead of Rachel's house."
"Mi casa, su casa! Just leave your shoes at the door. Especially Rome, y'know bullshit follows him wherever he goes."
Brian laughed, "I'll tell him you said that too!"
"Go heaaad, shit, I don't give a damn. I'll tell him myself!"
"Haha!"
"Nah, for real though. I owe Rachel big time for hookin' me up with this place. Woulda never found it unless she told me to put my ass on the market and swoop it up before it got sold."
"Yeah," started Brian, walking around the warehouse, imagining where certain equipment and whatnots may end up, "It's gonna make it a hell of a lot easier to operate in Beacon Hill. I'm super stoked to get started racing in this area. You told the team about this place yet?"
Suki crossed her arms and shook her head. "Nah. Besides Rachel, you're the only one that knows. I think I'll take my time on it though. We don't need Angie backing up into the garage door like she did at Oscar's."
"Haha! Dude, I swear, Ozzie was about to have a stroke, he was so pissed! Man, I've never seen him so tilted before!"
Suki watched as Brian laughed to himself as he played the scene over in his head. She couldn't help but smile at him. And in his corner, he couldn't help but feel happy for her. Everything, even with the things that weren't so good, it was still perfect somehow. It was everything Suki imagined and hoped for when she agreed to accept Brian's plane ticket.
"Say, B," Suki started, prompting Brian to stifle his chuckles as she tapped him on the forearm.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Thanks again for, y'know, everything. I'm literally livin' my fucking dream right now. Only thing that can make it better is if Tej was here. I mean it. You could've picked anyone. But you chose me. And it ain't been all sunshine and rainbows, y'know. But look where I am. I'm standin' in my own shop. I mean, I've bought my own shop before my own house or, hell, even an apartment! But y'know the best thing about this?"
"What?"
"I've got my brother right here to share it with me."
"Aww, shut up," Brian chuckled, wrapping Suki up in a hug.
With his chin on the crown of her head, he spoke, "Yeah, you're right… this hasn't been easy. Especially with… well, y'know…"
"That Toretto dude?"
"...Yeah…"
"Man, fuck him. He fuckin' punched you!"
The two siblings, at least in spirit, separated and looked at each other. "Yeah, you're not wrong. He did get a lick in, but in his defense, I mean, I had it coming. I'm glad he got it out of his system."
Suki almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. How a man could be glad he got punched by another man. But it was the nonchalance in Brian's voice, the way he slumped his shoulders, and smirked like it didn't motivate him to care at all about what anyone had to say. Or about how many sucker punches they were able to score.
"You're somethin' else, B."
Brian took it for what it was and took a couple of steps back, and clapped his hands as he continued to look around. "Alright, let's get to it. What do you wanna work on first? Y'know, like, what's the vibe you want to go with? You want lifts over here? Oh, maybe we can put the plasma TV in this corner over here!"
"Whoa, slow down, B, remember who brought this place! I decide where the plasma goes!"*
=Midnight, Beacon Hill=
"Beacon Hill is a modder's paradise. Tons of young blood are always out there lookin' to show off their trust fund rides. Case in point is the DUB Magazine competition happenin' tonight. At the moment, Beacon Hill isn't dominated by a certain group. Booke's drivers do make up for most of the racers out on those streets, but we don't have to worry about a specific crew to contend with. Meaning we should hop on that turf ASAP. With our talent, we'll smoke out Booke's businesses in Beacon Hill no sweat. Go scope it out and get a feel for the scene." - Text From Rachel
Brian flipped his phone closed and put his attention back on the action. Any drowsiness that Roman and Brian may have accumulated over the tireless nights of working for their crew, was blown away by the lively crowds of Beacon Hill. The district was beautiful, far more attractive than the steel/dusty confines of Coal Harbor. Something about the suburbia air was much easier to breathe.
On the west side of the hills, the landscaping provided an excellent view of Bayview's pier, with even a large yacht and ferris wheel to overlook the scenery. Then on the east, there was other attractions, such as "Pigeon Park", which was a massive subset of winding roads, hiking trails, all cascaded by a fair amount of restaurants to keep tourists filled up. In the passenger seat of Roman's souped up Escalade, Brian looked out at these midnight wonders, and saw why people would fall in love with a city like Bayview. Not to mention the icing on the cake, which was of course, the street racing scene.
"You just haaad to bust out the spinners, didn't you?"
"What can I say, Brian, it's the perfect time to show up and show out with the new whip, know what I'm sayin'!"
The money Roman saved up since racing for Rachel funded his brand new candy red Escalade. The both of them pulled into an expansive parking lot filled to the brim with other SUVs and the occasional luxury sedan. "DUB Magazine" advertisements were everywhere.
"Just sit tight, homeboy, and watch Romey-Rome do his thing."
Brian shook his head as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Why the hell do you still call yourself that, man? You're gonna make me look bad out there."
Once they stepped out and their shoes hit the wet asphalt, it was only natural for the crowds to start pooling around them. Those who recognized Brian and Roman came up to them, dapped them up, and started talking cars. It seemed to be a healthy night, especially to build the reputation for Team Underground. Brian immediately took apart the rival cars in the vicinity with his precise eyes. Based on the appearance of the other SUVs, they were modded just for show and not performance. If a race came to manifest tonight, then Oscar's upgrades to Roman's Escalade would prove useful.
Of course, Roman noticed this and playfully elbowed Brian. "Man, you can never relax, huh? I tooold you, I got tonight down pat. You ain't racin', so just chill out. You damn sure ain't touchin' my chrome 24s even if we do race."
Brian just let out an idle chuckle. Maybe Roman was right, and it was fine not to expect a race every time they went out. So instead, Brian took Roman's advice and started pacing his way around deeper into the parking lot. Hoods to all sorts of different cars sat open, begging Brian to come over and hover over the engine bay. All sorts of neons and custom paint jobs to the headers, strut bars, and even the wires, plastered over the engine bay. Brian shoved his hands in his cargos and leaned into an open soft-top BMW Z4 owned by a woman and her wife.
They instinctively posed, assuming Brian was another one of the many people to take pictures of their exotic cosplay. Brian just laughed, shook his head, and pointed toward the engine. He resorted to sign language since the blaring Reggae from the Impala next to them was way too loud. When they got the message, they finally recognized Brian, looped their arms around his own, and posed with him to a set of cameras off to the side.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, what the hell."
It was the cost of being an up and coming underground celebrity. A bright flash swept across his face. His eyes adjusted, and he was back on planet Earth, where everything in this city seemed to be like some sort of utopia. That's why whenever something seemed off, he had a sixth sense for it. Just like now. With a piercing glare, he looked across the many rooftops of the cars, over towards a random tuckaway of the parking lot. There seemed to be a commotion ramping up. Something wasn't quite right. He smiled and waved away to the married couple, and sauntered over to the other side of the parking lot with a piercing look.
A small crowd of ten or so people were hovering around a scarlet Mazda RX-8 that was trying to back out of a parking space. Whoever was behind the wheel seemed to be having a stroke of bad luck, no thanks to a late model Pontiac that looked more like a shoddy attempt at a gangster car than anything else - it was completely blacked out with smoky taillights, dark windows, and gold wheels.
"Aye, wassup, Bullitt?!"
"What it do, Brian!"
"How you doin' man?!"
Brian nodded here and there, shook a hand or two, all while staring straight ahead, looking to make sure this perfect little DUB Magazine party didn't get out of hand. It was a little too late for that. An ear-piercing tire screech was heard the very next second, followed right up by a deep crunch. When every one opened their eyes, the bumper of that scarlet RX-8 was deep into the fender of the hand-me-down gangster Pontiac.
"Ah… shit…"
"Damn…"
"Yo, somebody get security! We even got security?!"
Opposed to before where everybody seemed to be tuned into the drama, they were taking steps back now, like they expected something terrible to happen. The men from the Pontiac stepped out, clearly not happy with the fender bender, much less with the driver who did it. And speaking of the driver, she stepped out of her Mazda, but seemed more pissed than those men. Despite their intimidating appearance, with their comically large gold chains, and bandanas covering their mouths, the female driver slammed the door shut to her car and started hassling. She threw out insult after insult that seemed to amuse some in the crowd, but scare others.
"Aye, shutup," some of them would tell her.
But Brian watched as this woman insisted that the accident was the fault of the gangsters, and the real tragedy was the dent in her car. She was right, Brian thought. He glanced over her RX-8 and sure enough, it looked much better than the Pontiac. It boasted a Mazdaspeed bodykit, a Seibon carbon fiber hood, and an APR GTC-200 wing. White tribal vinyls plastered the sides, which looked more like tattoos for the car than anything. The car sat on a set of twenty inch 5Zigen Gravis', and based on the sound of the idle exhaust notes, it was seriously modified under the hood. Way more than that stock-box from T.K., or any other RX-8 that Brian had come across so far.
But truth be told, Brian could care less about the car. It was impossible not to take in the details of her.
Just her.
She was impossibly beautiful, the type of beauty that made you stop and make sure you were breathing. The type of beauty that left you no choice but to stare, even though you knew you shouldn't out of respect or decency for such a person. But you just had to look and make sure your eyes weren't screwing you over, while your heart and lungs screwed you over for sure.
Even under midnight, the golden undertones of her skin bloomed like she just stepped out from the sun. Her curly hair, an almost illusionary mix of strawberry-blonde, rippled like waves against the open of her back. She sported a red sleeveless top that barely covered her at all but did everything it could to accentuate her toned midriff - and olive chino shorts that were way too short and tight for Brian's sanity.
"…Damn…"
He could remember the last time he looked at a woman like that. That last time got him in trouble, and if Rome were by his side, Brian was sure he'd be shouting nonsense in his ear about how Brian "always got in trouble over a female." Brian approached the commotion with a steady stride. He glanced behind him, and saw an even bigger crowd following him, as if he was a patriarch or a hero of sorts. There was no backing out now. Not even Rome was in sight to give him a hand.
Without an exit, Brian did what he did best and just went by the seat of his pants. "Hey, what's up? What's going on?"
"What?! Who the fuck are you, white boy?!" The men took a couple of steps forward, sizing Brian up, not sure what to make of another hostile party introduced.
The woman that caught his eye, she glanced at Brian for just one second, before returning her fury to the others. She snapped her fingers, fishing for their attention, and stepped forward.
"Forget him! You should be worried about me! My car, hello?! I can't afford a trip to the body shop right now, so you and your boys need to figure this mess out!"
"Who the FUCK you talkin' to, twat?! You need to watch that fuckin' mouth!"
"Back the fuck up!"
Despite their verbal warnings, the woman continued to step closer without an ounce of fear, posted up in their face, yelling to her heart's content. If Brian didn't know better, she seemed to be enjoying it. Even so, he picked up the hostility in the gangster's eyes, and Brian moved in between them, just like he had to during his second night in Bayview, to ease the tension.
"Whoa, whoa, say, let's just relax. Alright? Can we do that? Can we relax?!"
All of a sudden, the woman's anger was bound for Brian. She shoved a finger in his face and let loose, "No, SCREW that! These bastards ran into ME! I don't care which one of you mouth-droolers it is, SOMEBODY is paying my body shop bill tonight!"
The tallest and meanest looking thug shoved Brian to the side and grabbed the woman by that same hand she used to point a finger.
"Ungh!" She winced and tried to pull away her hand to no avail.
"'Told you time and time again to watch yourself. The only time your mouth should be open is when it's on a cock. Dumb bitch-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, he felt his shirt being pulled, and Brian's fist careening into his face.
Blood exploded from his mouth, and his boys scrambled to pick him off the ground. When they looked up, they saw Brian standing over them with a crazed look in his eye, ready to fight. Brian kept looking back and forth between the woman, the crowd, and the men on the ground, not sure what would happen next. Regardless, he was damn sure to get his hands dirty if need be.
"Don't you ever put your hands on a woman, man!" Shouted Brian.
Brian felt contact on his shoulders. He looked to his right and saw some newcomers that looked just as intimidating as the men on the ground. Only difference was, they were on Brian's side. They itched at the chrome-plated weapons in the back of their pants and flicked their eyebrows at Brian.
"We got you, Bullitt."
"Say the word, bro."
It was nice to know his street cred took him so far to have people back him up with guns. But he remembered what Rachel preached about doing whatever it takes to use violence as a last resort. Brian waved away the thought of guns with his hand, and pointed down at the gangsters at his mercy.
"Hey, someone get these guys outta here!" Commanded Brian.
He let the crowd take care of the trash. Afterwards, everything became a blur. There were too many people bumping into him, asking him this and asking him that. Of course, Brian was looking for the woman from before. His shot towards the RX-8 that started revving its engine, and sure enough, there she was in the driver's seat. Brian swam through the sea of people, over to the driver door of the RX-8, because he knew that he'd kill himself, revive himself, and kill himself all over again if he didn't at least get her name to remember her by.
Hell, he could give two fucks about a number or an address or whatever the hell. He just wanted at least the name to give her due respect for standing up to her conviction. He took his knuckles to the window, knocked for her to roll her window down. She turned her attention from the steering wheel, over to the window, and proceeded to give a dirty look to Brian. He couldn't tell if it was out of confusion or frustration. Whatever the case, she didn't seem too happy to be bothered. She complied and lowered the window.
"Hey." Brian greeted. Now that he finally got her attention, he was at a loss for words.
"Hey, what?" She sassed.
"Hey, where you going?"
"Where does it look like? I'm gettin' the hell out of here! This place is a bust!"
The car started coasting and Brian walked to keep up with her. "Look, I know you had a shitty night. Let me make it up to you. Lemme at least escort you outta here. C'mon."
"I'm fine."
"No really. I wanna make sure nobody tries anything else with you. You're a hot topic right now."
"Look, Prince Charming, thanks for havin' my back 'back there. But I'm good." She poked her head out her window and nodded toward the space between Brian's cargos and her fender. "Now move before I run your foot over."
"Lemme at least get your name…"
The woman let her car coast to a stop. She gauged the look in Brian's eyes that didn't quite look desperate, even though you could certainly argue that's what he should be called at the moment. But something about him seemed honest and pure, as much as a criminal could get. And maybe just a hint of cuteness to the blue hues of his eyes, with a dash of child-like naivety sprinkled here and there. She caught him stealing glances at the custom gauges in her dash, and other areas on her car, like he was genuinely curious about the car just as much as her.
"Tell you what," she started, "If I catch you around here again, I'll give you a ride."
Brian let a smile crack onto his face. "A ride?"
"Yep. You can help me test my new setup."
It was out of the blue, but more than he asked for. He'd take it.
Brian shrugged and flashed her one of his trademark toothy smiles. "It's a date."
"Don't get your hopes up." The woman couldn't help but let a teasing tone lace her words.
Brian stepped back, stood up straight, and watched as the mystery driver sped off towards the front of the parking lot. He chuckled to himself, "Guess I'll just have to hold my breath."*
All the mainstream attention seemed to be funneling toward the front of the DUB Competition parking lot, and Brian craned his neck over a bunch of spiky hairdos to see what was going on now. He couldn't help but smile at what he saw. It was Roman's Escalade and three other SUVs lined up next to him, getting ready to race. Ear piercing shrieks from the tires echoed throughout the parking lot as the SUVs took off, as well as the crowd to chase after their preferred racer.
"Pedal to the metal, baby, you got this Rome!" Brian shouted.
He knew that there was no way that the fleeting Escalade could hear him, but there was just something about putting the good vibes into the universe that kept Brian motivated. But like a crack of lightning, everything flipped on its head the moment everyone heard sirens in the distance. Then came the red and blue strobes on the midnight horizon.
"COPS! COPS!"
Everyone broke into a scramble towards their cars and if they didn't have cars to begin with, they hauled ass on foot as fast as they could. Closer and closer, the sirens got, making Brian wish he had stuck with Rome the entire time. Rome was long gone at this point, and couldn't be bothered to break off the race to just fall back and pick Brian up. Brian's mouth went dry. He was on his own. Even being somewhat of a sanctioned event, the DUB Magazine officials didn't push their luck, and used megaphones to urge everyone out of the vicinity. Engines roared to life around Brian, and tires squealed away from the parking lot. Brian's head shot to and fro, looking for any potential people to help him out, but they seemed to be preoccupied with their own livelihood to even notice him present. Brian let out a dejected groan. Figures. Good thing he was a fast runner.
As more sirens began sounding off behind him, he rocketed out of the parking lot and down the street. One quick glance behind him and he could see the number of Chevy Impala cruisers pulling into the area. Brian steadied his run into a jog to seem less suspicious now that he was out of the main area. Multiple speeding vehicles blew past him. He turned to the right, to start working his way up an uphill street.
In the distance, he spotted a gas station and figured he could duck in there to wait the police out. He picked up his pace back to a jog, not wanting to take the chance of the police sniffing him out of being a regular civilian. The oil grease on his Chuck Taylors and his "West Coast Choppers" might give it away that he was at least present at the parking lot. And one suspicion was all a cop would need. Brian got ready to cross an intersection when the sound of a rumbling engine cut him off at the street, followed by the crackle and wail of a megaphone.
"You there! Halt and get down on your-"
"-Shit!" Brian didn't have time to hear them out.
The words from the megaphone became an unintelligible mess as he broke into a sprint and let the rushing wind and the beat of his heart drown it out. Out into the distance ahead, he was approaching the upper suburbs, which meant tighter roads and alleys. Good. Because no matter how fast he ran, outrunning a police cruiser was certainly not possible. He could hear the sound of tires screeching and an engine banging through its gears to catch up to him behind.
"Shit, shit, SHIT!"
Then came his saving grace. It was the flurry of a rotary engine from up the street. Brian's heart skipped a beat when he saw that familiar shade of red, now skidding to a stop next to him - the mystery woman with the red RX-8. She was the last person he expected, but he'd take any help he could get. Just an inch away from his feet, she quickly leaned over and pushed her passenger door open.
"Hey, come on!"
He did so, diving inside the interior, and struggling to gather his bearings under the sudden force of the Mazda blasting off. Too busy to worry about fumbling with the seat belt, Brian opted to use the ceiling hand grip and catch his breath. The same cop from down the street could be spotted, headed straight for them in the same lane. She dropped a gear, let out a power slide to the left and watched the red and blue lights sweep right past them. She straightened her car back out and returned to the proper gear, leaving the cruiser in the midnight dust. Brian let his head flop back against the headrest of her seat. His eyes glanced at her.
Among his fleeting breath that he desperately tried to catch, he struggled to come up with a witty opener, only to say what first came to mind. "Gotta work on my cardio."
The mystery woman flashed a smile and didn't reply. Her focus was clearly on the road. They were driving on Bayview Bridge, a large connector that put them on the main interstate of Bayview. When she got comfortable enough, she turned her head to Brian.
"Figured I'd make good on my word and give you that ride. Just not like this."
With his breath finally caught, he replied with a nod. "Thanks."
"It's 'Mia' by the way."
"What?"
Everything stopped. If he didn't know any better, Brian could've sworn they hit a brick wall at full speed. His breath was caught, only to lose it again. It showed on his face that looked like he'd seen a ghost.
That name…
"You alright?"
Brian blinked away the spell of the past scars, and shook his head, trying his damndest not to look like some sort of junkie or literal crazy person in front of her.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I just…" He squinted his eyes at her and just couldn't believe what he heard. It's not like he'd never meet another woman with the same name of his ex-lover in his entire lifetime. But something about this just seemed so wrong. So twisted that the one woman he let himself catch feelings for, albeit for one measly night, just had to have the same name. "...What did you say your name was again?"
This time, she looked away from the road and directly into his eyes, as serious as she'd been the entire night.
"My name is Mia."*
For the remainder of the drive, Brian kept silent. It wasn't like it was his intention. He just genuinely didn't know what to say. All his poise and wit seemed to have up and gone with the wind. He just sat there and stared out the passenger window, reluctant to look over to the left where she sat.
"Hey, what about you?"
Brian fought through the awkwardness and glanced over to her. "Huh?"
"You got a name? Or should I keep callin' you 'Prince Charming?'"
Now that things weren't so hectic, Brian was able to hear Mia's voice for what it really was. She spoke with a bit of a Beverly Hills accent that still managed to somehow sound South Central. The hint of sarcasm at the edge of her syllables splashed a dollop of sass that made her addicting to listen to.
"No, that's okay, let's just go with 'Brian,'" he confirmed, finding the strength to give her an authentic smile again.
Brian fought with his mind, one half of it wanting to get to know her, and the other half wanting to forget she even existed out of respect for the last woman he truly loved.
"Brian," Mia repeated his name for herself, nodding before returning her eyes to the road. In just the next second, she turned back to him with a smirk. "You look like a 'Brian.'"
Still out of his groove, he didn't have a remark for her, and just stifled a chuckle towards her. Mia looked him up and down and shrugged, "Cool then, Brian. Anywhere you want me to go, or should we just keep driving around like a couple of student drivers?"
Right on cue, Brian's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and read the caller ID. It was Rome to save the night.
"One sec," he told Mia as he flipped out his phone. "Say, bro, where are you?"
"Brian! Man, I got five-o all up IN my ass! Where the hell are you, bruh?! Please tell me you got a ride from somebody."
"Yeah, it's all copacetic, bro, I'm riding with someone right now," assured Brian, glancing over to Mia.
"Alright, cool. Listen, tell them to drive you over to our garage in Coal Harbor. By the time we make it down there, we should've lost the cops."
"Gotcha, see you in a little bit, Rome." Brian flicked his phone closed and opened his mouth to give Mia the location.
She beat him to it, "Coal Harbor, right? I got it."
He nodded, letting himself study her for a bit longer. The fact that she was able to pick up on Roman's instructions while focused on the road, meant she had good observation/listening skills. Also, she seemed comfortable driving, like she'd done so for a while. The way the groove between her thumb and index sat comfortable between her gearshift. For now, Brian let his head rest back against the seat so that his eyes could shoot through her roof. He had to figure out if his fleeting breath really was from his lack of cardio or the woman next to him that blindsided him in too many ways to count.*
=Some Time Later=
Through the orange hazy distance of Coal Harbor's air, Six-One-Nine Customs could be spotted, as well as a couple of flashing lights, signaling that they were ready to receive Brian and his getaway driver. Mia sped into the lot and paused to let the garage door climb up. Inside, Brian could see it was Suki pulling up the door. Then there was Roman tending to his Escalade that had garnered some clear visual damage. Realizing it was Brian, he jogged over to Suki and gave her a hand with rolling open the door.
Once the clearance was made, the garage door slammed back shut, allowing Mia to pull inside, right next to Roman's SUV. Mia swung her head to the right to say something to Brian, but saw him already exiting the car. Roman was there to meet him, helped open the door, and dapped up his brother. They gave a brief hug and a chuckle or two.
"I told you I got this, dog, I STILL dusted those fools even WITH five-o on my ass!"
Brian laughed, using the collar of his shirt to wipe sweat off his stubble. "Yeah, but so much for those precious chrome 24s, huh?" he joked, pointing a teasing finger at the Escalade's damage.
The group of three, Brian, Roman, and Suki paused to give their attention to Mia. She was halfway out of her car, one foot into the car and her elbow resting against the roof. Brian pointed toward her and looked back at Roman and Suki.
"This is Mia. I owe her big time. She saved my ass right at the last second." Brian came over to her and offered his hand in the air, like he was ready to give the biggest down low five in the world. She grinned and returned it, letting Brian give a generous, trusting, shake to their connected hands. "Listen, if you ever need anything. And I mean anything, just call me up."
"You got it. I'll keep that in mind. I gotta go..."
"Hold on, now, what's the rush?" Roman said as he came over to Brian's side. "You had my boy's back, right? You gotta let us return the favor."
"Hell yeah," Suki agreed, perching herself next to Mia's door. "How 'bout a beer for the road, at least? We got the good shit."
Mia shook her head. "I'm solid. But... maybe next time."
She gave Brian a lingering stare. Topping it off was a wink and a smile before she descended back into her car. He let Roman open the garage door again, and watched as the red RX-8 disappeared again. He already missed that smile.
Rome sucked his teeth. "Here we go."
"Man, don't start." Brian said, not even bothering to entertain Roman's philosophies on women.
Brian found himself contemplating his life choices as he descended into sleep one in one of the store rooms of Oscar's garage.
Was it wrong to move on? To expect more from yourself and to look forward to the future? What if the future somehow involved this woman he met? Was it wrong? If not, why did it feel that way. And what could he do to fix it? Brian rolled over in bed and tried to run away from these questions in his sleep. No matter how fast he sped in real life, his past always seemed to catch up to him somehow. And he was beyond tired of it…*