The Joint
Jaki woke up, in the middle of a nightmare, where he was being beaten by a stock white Nissan GTR R33. For a second, his focus shifted from the road to the driver, only to see a chimpanzee looking at him in the driver's seat.
It was almost noon. The Joint was quiet. The janitor's closet was no bigger than the back of a van. A fan stood half a meter away from Jaki's bed, stuck again, pushing hot air to the shelf where Jaki keeps his books. A light filtered through the blinds and painted the ceiling in stripes. It reminded him of the days he slept under a bridge, when the sun would pierce through the concrete above like it was trying to find him.
Sponge was asleep on his chest, breathing to the rhythm of the rain water leaking from the ceiling to the bucket next to the bar. Plink, plink, plink… He never got it fixed, because it reminded him of his childhood. After realizing Jaki was awake, Sponge's tail flicked once and started purring. Jaki sat up slowly, dislodging Sponge, who immediately leapt to the floor with a soft meow and curled up next to the bed.
Jaki scratched his temple and checked his phone. Two missed calls and one message.
Uncle – 08.17 AM:
"Call me"
He paced outside through the back door, phone in his ear, waiting for Uncle to pick up. There was a silence on the other end at first. The kind that didn't need words to be terrifying. Then a voice, so smooth it could've been mistaken for kind, if you didn't know what hid behind it.
"Jaki."
Dante Riera. Younger brother of Don Julio. Everyone called him Uncle. Didn't matter if you were blood or not, once you were in the game, he was Uncle. Silver hair slicked back, black suit, beige shirt, brown belt that probably cost more than Jaki's car. If Julio was Prime's king, Dante was its accountant, his CEO. He didn't raise his voice, he just played with numbers until they made Julio happy. People, money, power… They rarely did. If Julio built empires, Uncle made them run on time.
"Shipment never came," Uncle said. "You know anything about that?"
"Yeah, I meant to call you about it. I… might've gotten distracted," Jaki said.
Another pause. Then: "Distracted?"
"Some outsider was racing in my turf, I had to intervene. Didn't feel right."
"You saw a car? You abandoned three million dollar worth of NOS because you saw a car?"
"Come on, Uncle. It's worth three million on the market, we got 'em for one fourth of the price. To use, I might add."
A sigh. "People don't belong in Tek all the time, Jaki. That's what Tek is for."
"He had a rotary tuned like a lawnmower but drove like a professional. Said he was from Rory. Scott says he's not. Something's off."
"Whatever. Bash said the driver was three hours late. Apparently, he saw some action around the area when he arrived, it scared him off. I'm guessing that was you."
Jaki got inside, put the call on speakers, paced toward the sink, washed his face with water that never ran cold enough. "Bash is loyal, you can rearrange it."
Uncle sighed again. "I will, but you've cost me time, Jaki. Next time, don't improvise. That's what rookies do. You're not a rookie anymore."
"I know, but come on. He could've left the van in the parking lot, I would've come back for it."
"Maybe he did. Did you check?" Uncle asked ironically. Jaki did not answer. Uncle kept talking.
"You racing tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Win."
Click.
Jaki stared at the phone for a second longer than necessary. Sponge rubbed against his leg. He scooped her up, and rested his chin on her head.
"Always Jaki, fucking up and getting in trouble." he muttered. He had a point.
Sponge purred like a cowboy with tuberculosis.
Jaki toasted some stale bread on his panini maker and ate them plain. Then he got his phone out to prepare for tonight.
Lucille Bianchi was the second-best racer in Prime. Which meant she was the only person Jaki took seriously when he was in the driver's seat. Not that he would admit that to her. She wasn't just fast—she was surgical. Her control over a car felt like ballet in asphalt. Julio found her drifting around Divnyy police cruisers in a stolen Fiat.
He called her Lu. Everyone did. But back when he first heard her name, Lucille, he thought it sounded too elegant for Divnyy. Then he saw her drive. And it all made sense.
She ran the Heartbreakers, Julio's eyes and ears in the city's beating heart. The crew moved like venom in veins. Lu led with precision, dressed like danger, always two steps ahead of everyone. She was older and more experienced than the rest of Julio's racers, but she didn't show it. They met before the crew even had a name. Back when she worked directly for Julio, sitting at his right hand during meetings, taking notes that turned into power moves. No one else could read the map of Prime quite like her. If Julio was building an empire, she was placing the roads.
Jaki found her in the middle of a warehouse bust once, slapping a crooked contractor with a lease agreement and a lawsuit at the same time. "You should be one of us," he'd said. "Race for control, manage civilians."
"I am," she replied.
Later that year, she smoked him in a race through Divnyy's lower deck.
She was colder back then. Tay was still out, racing like the streets owed him a life.
Taylor Holloway. Her ex. The madman. The reason Cy belonged to Julio now.
Tay was reckless like it was an artform. He lit fires to see what would burn. British by descent, but born and raised in Prime's forgotten edge, called Badlands by the locals and Cy by anybody else. He ran from home, never looked back. Hooked up with Jaki and Scott in their teens. The trio was infamous, robbing train yards, sabotaging racers, flipping stolen parts for favors. Tay made things loud. Jaki made things disappear. Scott was mostly there for emotional support after Tay joined them.
But Tay got too bold. Pulled a job on a cartel warehouse in Cy. Alone. Left a trail of bodies and burnt bridges. That move gave Julio the excuse he needed. Cartel pulled out, fearing federal heat. Julio moved in. Cy became his.
That's what Julio did. He didn't conquer. He curated. He bought land from desperate people, built things that looked like hope, and handed it back wrapped in shiny promises. Affordable housing. Public transport. Job opportunities. Schools. But under the sidewalks and fresh asphalt, Cy became the perfect route for smuggling. If a bridge ever connected Mexico to Prime, Cy would be the first place anything illegal crossed. Julio always played the long game. And people respected him for it.
On paper, Cy got a fresh start. Julio always gave the people a reason to cheer. But underground? Cy was a gold mine.
Tay got caught. Julio tried to take the blame off of him. Found him a dozen accomplices and gave him the best lawyer money could buy. They sentenced him to 5 years and 7 months in prison. That was 3 years ago.
Milo took it the hardest.
Milo Sinclair, Tay's one soft tether to reality. Quiet, careful, soft-spoken. Drove like he was whispering to the car. He was Tay's shadow back then. A little brother, though no blood was shared. Tay pulled him into the Hotheads, back when Tay ran it. Milo never left.
Now Scott ran the Hotheads. Milo followed him like he used to follow Tay. But every time someone mentioned Tay, Milo flinched like a dog hearing thunder. The kid missed him.
Jaki scrolled through his contacts. Called Lu first.
"Lucille," he said, stretching the name for fun.
"I told you not to use my full name unless I'm getting knighted or buried," she said. Voice crisp. Like a gear click.
"Race tonight. You in?"
Lucille lit a cigarette, "What's the format?"
"Four cars. Mid-street rules."
"Who else?"
"You, me, a mystery boy, and I'm thinking Milo."
"Oh, a mystery boy, somebody's got a crush."
"Be careful, he's good."
"And you're not just saying that because he made fun of you?"
Jaki got pissed. Ryan had gotten into his head again, without even being present. "Did you talk to Lys?"
"Ha ha. text me the meet. See you there."
Click.
He grinned anyways. Deep down, he wanted Lu to be better than him so the pressure on his shoulders would be less.
Next up: Milo.
He found him under "My Low".
"Yo," Milo answered, voice softer than morning light. He was at a body shop, at least that's what Jaki thought from the background noise.
"Race tonight. Four-man."
"I'm not first choice, am I?"
"You're always my first choice for The Corny Road."
Milo chuckled. "Who's the mystery driver?"
"Scott told you? New kid. Says he's from Rory. Nobody knows him. Black RX-7 FC."
"Low horsepower, you want to give him a fair race by including lots of corners. And that's why you want me in."
"Precisely. So?"
"I'm in. I'm taking Daisy."
"See you there, Milo. Tell Scotty I said hi."
"Take care, Jaki."
The team was set. Him. Lu. Milo. Ryan. And Prime would be watching.
He stood in The Joint, looking out the front window. A couple teenagers rode past on electric bikes, laughing. Neon signs blinked at Jaki, one by one, painting the street like graffiti in motion.
He turned to Sponge.
"You think this is gonna be a good one?"
She blinked.
He headed to the garage.
Time to prep the beast.
Tomorrow wasn't promised in Prime. But tonight?
Tonight they're gonna race like hounds.