The taxi smelled like pine air freshener and broken dreams.
Phei settled into the cracked leather seat, letting the door swing shut behind him with a satisfying thunk. The driver—a middle-aged guy with a receding hairline and the dead eyes of someone who'd seen too much Paradise bullshit to be surprised by anything—glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"Where to?"
"Sovereign Tower, Downtown Paradise."
The driver's eyebrows twitched. Sovereign Tower. That name meant something in this town. Meant money. Meant tips. Meant shutting up and driving.
"You got it."
The engine rumbled to life.
Phei pulled out his old phone. The cracked iPhone 8 that looked like garbage and contained enough blackmail material to topple half the families in Paradise.
He opened his messages.
Found Brett's contact.
His thumbs moved across the screen.
Phei:Nice play today. You should've considered acting instead of basketball. Maybe you still can after I'm done with you.
Send.
