Honey Flava

Chiyo laughed and went back to the bar. I got angry and started talking even more trash.

“You know what? I’m so sick of all three of you. Let’s settle this, right now.”

Hakaru glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

“I’m challenging all of you to a street race,” I stuttered, struggling to find my tongue.

Quincy said, “Larissa, you’re drunk. Take your ass home.”

Chiyo looked me up and down. “Maybe I should drive her home. She’s drunk.”

I knew what the body-check look meant. “Hell naw, you’re not taking me home. You practically dry-fucked me on the dance floor.”

They all fell out laughing.

“Whatever! I’m going up the point and I’m going to wait,” I said. “Anyone who doesn’t show up is a straight punk. I’ll see you scared motherfuckers when I see you.”

I left the three of them sitting there with silly expressions on their faces. When I got into my GTO and revved it up, I grinned because I knew at least one of them would take me up on the challenge. I loved challenges.

The point was really a long, deserted stretch in Aberdeen, Maryland. People used it for street racing all the time. As for the cops, half of the time they were the main ones watching and cheering people on. Many of them bragged about what they had at home in their garages. Fact of the matter is, a lot of people become cops because they want to be in high-speed chases, and they love to show off their driving skills as much as the next racing enthusiast.

Surprisingly, no one was out there when I arrived. Then again, it was nearly three in the morning and most street racing ended by midnight or one, on a typical Friday or Saturday. I sat in my car, jamming to my iPod until one of those punks showed up. Less than fifteen minutes later, I spotted three sets of headlights coming over the bend, side by side. “This Woman’s Work” by Maxwell was playing, and I was ready to show them what I had. Shit, I was born ready for this race. I closed my eyes and sang the lyrics, taking in deep breaths as I always did before a race. When I opened them again, Chiyo’s Nissan 350Z was on my left, Hakaru’s Porsche 911 was on my right, and Quincy was beside him in his Dodge Viper.

I glared from one side to the other and we all gave each other “that look.” We did not have anyone to wave a flag, as it was usually a hoochie mama who was trying to get laid in one of their backseats. Instead, Hakaru held his left hand up, covered in a leather driving glove, and counted down his fingers from five to one. Then we all hit it. “Come to Me” by Diddy was blasting on my iPod as I floored it. On the track, we went up to 140 mph, but fuck it, I was going

all out and planned to hit 180. In case you’re wondering, we weren’t crazy. All of us had on helmets and racing harnesses.

We took the first hill at about the same time, then I was in the lead. Quincy came up behind me on my bumper but I swerved from side to side to keep him from passing me. Chiyo appeared out of nowhere in his 350Z and almost took off my side-view mirror. That did it! I was not about to lose, not that night. Hakaru was having issues but was catching up fast. I could see him in my rearview mirror. I hit the top gear in my GTO and tried my best to keep all of them off me. There was less than a mile to the end of the point and the “chicken wall.” A few teenagers had hit the wall and totaled their cars; one did not make it, but we were all professionals. At least, that was what we were supposed to be.

“Umbrella” by Rihanna came on, and then it happened: the big bang. Chiyo lost control of his car and slammed into Quincy’s Viper. The Viper flipped over and brushed over my hood; all I saw was red metal as my windshield blew out, along with one of my tires. I hit my brakes and tried to turn to the left. No sooner had I done that then Hakaru’s 911 crashed into my driver’s-side door, crushing it into my side. Then there was silence; dead silence.

I lost consciousness for some time, probably minutes that seemed like hours. I heard Chiyo yelling out my name, then someone yanked open my passenger-side door. I felt myself being pulled from the wreckage, and then I was lying on the ground, next to Quincy’s Viper. I finally regained my bearings as Hakaru removed my helmet.

Hakaru said, “I think she’s going to be okay. Larissa, can you hear me?”

Chiyo yelled out, “Shit! Look at our rides!”

Hakaru took off his jacket and placed it under my head. “Someone call 911.”

Quincy, who had seemingly been in a daze, popped back into reality. “Fuck that! We can’t call the cops! We aren’t supposed to be out here in the first place!”

“But Larissa needs to go to the hospital,” Hakaru said. “Plus we all have to put in insurance claims.”

I pushed Hakaru away from me. “I’m fine. I’m tougher than all you motherfuckers.” I sat up. I had a killer headache, but miraculously, I was fine outside of that. “Besides, asshole, our insurance companies aren’t going to pay. We were racing, dummy.”

Quincy glared at me. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault.” I struggled to stand up. “Quincy, how the hell you figure that? Chiyo ran into you, you flipped the fuck over me, and then Hakaru slammed into my door. Tell me when I hit any damn body.”

Quincy rolled his eyes at me. “It’s your fault, bitch, because your drunk ass had us all come out here.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?” I balled my left hand into a fist. “I will punch all your teeth clear out your head, motherfucker!”

Now I had no problem calling myself a bitch, as I explained earlier, but I sure didn’t play men calling me a bitch.

“I didn’t drive your cars out here. I didn’t force you to do shit,” I added. “You three high rollers came out here together, like gangbusters, and now our cars are fucked the hell up.”

Chiyo said, “Larissa, you were drunk.”