Imani
He texted me on Wednesday night and I’ve been rereading our conversation too many times to admit.
I miss the hell out of him but I know that his son really needs him right now.
He’s in a new city, a new school, and with his father who he just met a few weeks ago.
That’s too much for an adult to digest; I can’t even imagine for a child.
“My girl Evette can smoke that,” Hazel says.
A pretty ass baby blue Corvette just pulled up to the line to race a smokey grey charger. Both ladies actually raced last Saturday but on the oval track. This is a rematch on the drag strip. Miss Charger doesn’t like her loss.
Every other Saturday, Motorsport allows open racing.
It hosts scheduled races and events throughout the year but leaves these Saturdays open for all races from noon till night and it’s a time.
Big burnouts, huge wheel-stands, supercharged engines, nitrous breathing, and bad ass rides with mega horsepower is always a good time in my book and today is no different.
I’ve quickly learned that Crescent Falls has a ton of ladies that love to drive and drive fast. On my first Saturday, I only spotted two other ladies driving Hellcats, a powder blue one and a metallic yellow one.
Today, it’s just me but there are plenty other rides with fast speeds, including Chargers, Corvettes, Mustangs, a supped up Civic, a gutted-out Miata, and a few Cameros.
Each car is unique and tailored to their female owners but they are all fast.
I’ve found my community.
“You should race her next,” I suggest.
“I might but I’m dying to shut Moon’s shit-talking ass up. She’s been talking mad shit about her new Miata,” she says, referring to one of her friends.
Hazel playfully shoots her middle finger to Moon then they both laugh.
Then, we turn our attention to the drag-strip.
The tall, shirtless, muscular flag boy walks to the line then pulls the red bandana from his pocket.
He raises it in the air and both ladies rev their engines.
The minute he drops it, they are off and seconds later, Miss Charger loses again.
While these Saturdays are open to everyone, the ladies have no doubt taken over. There are only a handful of male drivers out and they are not pleased by the substitution of the males for their normal flag girls. The guys are all Hazel’s idea and I love it.
When the drag-strip is clear, I leave them and walk to my baby.
We’re up next and I need to pull up. As soon as I get in, I grip Imari’s chain and say my prayer.
Then, I drive onto the track and cross over to the drag-strip.
My opponent who I met my first time here, Tiece in a midnight black Camaro, is already at the line.
I shift into park, steady my hands on my steering wheel, then rest my feet above the gas petal.
I glance over at Tiece, she nods with a smirk and I do the same.
This win is mine. I watched her in her first race today.
Although her Camaro ZL1 is lighter than my baby and has better handling capabilities, a win comes from the driver and Tiece can’t handle her ride.
She jerked on takeoff during her race and her back tires slid.
With my baby’s horsepower and my ability to command her with ease, I’ll be bragging in less than eight seconds when I cross the line before her.
The fine flag man steps to the middle of the line, he raises his bandana then drops it.
I shift into drive at the same time as my foot mashes the gas.
I’m off before Tiece and when her car jerks, I leave her in my smoke.
According to the computerized timing system at the track, she crosses 2. 1 seconds after me. I smoked her.
After u-turning, I slowly creep back to the start.
She pulls up after me. the cocktail of driving fast, pushing my baby to her limit, and winning is the best feeling in the world.
My heart is beating fast. Every nerve under my skin is firing and I feel like I’m floating.
I’m on a high that no drug can match. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, I can’t contain the big ass smile on my face when I get out.
The somber look on Tiece’s face doesn’t diminish mine either but like a true competitor, she shakes my hand and congratulates me.
Out here, on the track, the vibe is different.
Not one of the races I’ve witnessed ended like my street one that night.
I chalk it up to the lack of testosterone. Ladies just know how to act.
“She’s so powerful; I can’t handle her,” Tiece admits.
“How long have you been racing her?” I ask.
“I got her for my thirtieth, a much-needed gift to myself. Brand new off the lot. She’s only nine months old and I’ve been coming here for about two months.”
“Oh, that’s why. You’re still learning how to handle her. I’ve had my baby for five years. You need to race with less experience drivers like Hazel,” I add.
“Don’t do me. I can handle Evette just fine. Watch and learn,” Hazel snaps.
Hazel and Moon are racing next so Tiece and I get back into our rides and clear the strip for them.
They are lining up when I make it back to the front of the bleachers.
It’s almost three and more people have filled the park.
Cars, ATVs, and motorcycles are lining the parking lot.
A few more men have pulled up but it’s still a majority of women drivers with their rides.
Hazel and Moon’s race is close, too close to call it. Although Moon swears she won, the timing system clocked them both at 7.9 seconds. They both concede and agree to a rematch the next time we are here.
“I’m ready for a drink, some good ass food, and some hookah,” Hazel says. “Are you coming with us?” she asks Moon.
“Hell yes. Demari is with his grandparents and I’m kid free until tomorrow night. DayLux?” she asks.
“I’m cool with whatever,” I admit.
“It’s not that far from here. Follow me; if you can keep up,” Hazel teases before hopping in her Corvette.
Moon hops into hers and Tiece and I walk back to the parking lot for our rides. When we get to the end of the track, a blue NISMO creeps by. It circles the lot then comes back, driving slower.
“You know them?” Tiece asks, her perfectly arched brows pinched.
“No,” I say but as soon as the window lets down, I correct myself. It’s him. The guy I smoked at the street race. “Yeah, I do. I beat his bitch ass in a race,” I tell her.
His slow crawl comes to a complete stop and he drops his arm out on his door. He stares at me and I glare right back. If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s not working. I’m not scared of any man that bitches up after losing a race.
“Let’s just go,” Tiece says nervously.
Without moving my eyes from his, I say loud enough for him to hear, hopefully over the music playing from a few vehicles, “Nah. He ain’t gone do shit but drive off.
” When he smirks, I know that he heard me so I smile back.
Then, he slowly raises his hand and points at me.
“What?” I scoff and he just shakes his head before placing his arm back inside of his ride.
The window then slowly lets up and he drives off.
“That was weird,” Tiece utters.
“It was stupid. I guess he was trying to scare me but obviously, he ain’t gone do shit but look dumb.”
“Niggas and their egos,” she says while shaking her head.
“I know right,” I admit. After shaking that dumb shit off, I trek on to my car and so does Tiece then we meet Moon and Hazel at the stop sign and follow them to DayLux.
DayLux is a cool ass day club located near downtown. There’s a small line congregated at the main door but it goes pretty fast and we are inside and seated in a back corner booth within fifteen minutes of parking.
Almost every chair, booth, and bar stool is filled.
The tables are filled with drinks, large clear and gold hookah pipes, and delicious looking food.
The vibe is chill and sexy and so is the music.
I glance towards the DJ booth hoping that it might be Dash.
It isn’t her though. I make a mental note to reach out to her because I haven’t since we exchanged numbers at the street race.
“I’m getting the new flight of margaritas. The flight of mimosas is really good so I’m sure the margaritas will hit too,” Hazel says as we each look over the menu.
“I don’t like jalapeno though,” Moon says. The flight has three margaritas: house, jalapeno melon, and strawberry. I’m cool with all three.
“I love it. We can swap,” Tiece says.
“Looks like we all getting the flight,” I say.
“And the rainbow hookah with D-9. You smoke right?” Hazel asks me.
“Yea, I hit my pen sometimes but I’ve never had hookah with D-9. I’m a light weight. Will I be able to drive my ass home?” I ask.
“As long as you eat,” Hazel says.
“I’m definitely eating. The brunch menu is still available. I’m getting the lobster fried BLT sandwich and truffle home fries.”
“Mm, that sounds good. I might get that too,” Moon says.
“I’m going to order Presha a flight too. I called her at the track and she’s heading here,” Hazel informs us.
“She really doesn’t like racing?” Moon asks.
“Nah. Presha goes the speed limit, not a mile below or above it,” Hazel says with a titter.
Our server approaches, a pretty sista with feeder braids to the back. Since Presha isn’t here yet, we just order our flights and a few appetizers for the table, garlic herb lamb lollipops and chicken fried cauliflower bites.
“So, have you picked out a costume yet?” Moon asks Hazel.
“For what?” Tiece asks and my nosey ass tunes in. I want to know too.
“My boss is having a Halloween party at his house. His wife is big on parties and we all have to come dressed. Brick and I are going to be Sticky and Dijonay.”
“Who the hell is Sticky and Dijonay?” Tiece asks and I squint my eyes.
“From the Proud Family. You didn’t watch that?” I ask in total disbelief. Imari and I loved the Proud Family and the Boondocks.