Chapter 4 — The Pit Stop
Seattle nights felt familiar.
Neon lights.
Rain on asphalt.
Engines echoing through empty streets.
My bar, The Pit Stop, had only been open two weeks.
But it was already attracting the right crowd.
That's where I met Marcus Rivera.
Marcus slammed his beer down.
"You own the garage down the street?"
I nodded.
"You the guy who rebuilt that GT-R?"
"That obvious?"
Marcus grinned.
"I'm a mechanic. I notice these things."
He leaned forward.
"You race?"
I shrugged.
"Sometimes."
He smirked.
"Prove it."