Chapter 56: The Invitational
The hot dog restaurant went still.
Lizzie moved fast — she swung the gun toward Sarah. "Hand it over. Now."
Sarah didn't move.
Simon kicked the gun out of Lizzie's hand.
Lizzie immediately kicked at Simon's groin.
Simon blocked with both hands and caught her leg. She used the position to kick him in the face with her other foot.
Simon went down. So did Lizzie.
She kicked him in the chest from the floor, sending him into the counter. Then she slid toward the dropped gun.
Sarah vaulted the counter and kicked the gun away before Lizzie reached it.
Lizzie swung at Sarah.
Sarah caught the punch.
"You're not a hot dog vendor," Lizzie said.
"You're not a delivery girl," Sarah said.
They fought.
Simon got up, looked at the two women, took out his phone and took a photo. The flash got their attention.
"Help me," Sarah said.
Simon picked up the gun and pointed it at Lizzie.
Lizzie stopped. Put her hands up.
Sarah cuffed her.
Chuck and Casey arrived shortly after. Chuck kissed the ring box when he saw it. Casey told Simon good work. Simon handed over the gun, reminded them about his payment, and left.
Time passed. The invitational arrived.
The race had started as Dom's creation — him and a group of drivers building something together. Over the years it had grown into a major event drawing participants from California and neighboring states. Corporate sponsors came in — car companies, engine manufacturers, automotive brands. The event now had real infrastructure, real security, real organization.
This year's location was a military base in the Mojave Desert.
Simon drove the Mustang through the single entry gate and into the event grounds.
"There are so many people," Meg said, looking at the crowd of cars, drivers, and spectators.
"Over a thousand drivers registered this year," Simon said. "It'll be bigger next year."
They parked near a row of RVs. Simon knocked on Dom's.
"You're late," Dom said, coming out.
"Traffic at the gate," Simon said. "Did you make contact?"
"Yes. They'll take challenges. Minimum ten thousand per race."
"Good."
"Don't get too excited," Dom said. "The cars in that section are serious. Top-level builds. The drivers know what they're doing."
"I know what I'm doing too," Simon said.
"Their section is Area 8. Your call."
Simon and Meg walked to Area 8.
The difference was immediate. Every other section had a mix of vehicles. Area 8 was exclusively Ferraris, Porsches, Paganis, one Bugatti. Cars worth millions, built by professionals, driven by people who raced at this level regularly.
The Mustang looked out of place the moment Simon drove it in.
Everyone looked at it.
Simon parked, got out, and spoke to the group directly.
"I heard this is where the serious racing happens. Can I enter?"
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