First Steps
Weeks of restless nights and constant planning, and Caitlyn finally found her way in.
Her ticket? A rusted-out heap of metal that barely passed as a car. The engine sputtered like a dying animal, and the likelihood of it exploding the second she floored the gas was high. But it didn't matter—appearances did. If she rolled up in something too polished, they'd sniff her out in an instant.
Now, standing in Jayce’s office, Caitlyn shifted uncomfortably in a leather jacket that felt stiff against her skin, her usual crisp shirts and blazers abandoned in favor of something less… law-abiding.
Jayce, arms crossed over his broad chest, raised an eyebrow before bursting into laughter.
“Ooh, if you think you’re gonna pass as a racer looking like that, you should try again,” he snorted, barely containing himself as he wiped a hand over his amused face.
Caitlyn scowled, tugging at the lapels of her jacket. “What do you mean? I think I look tough.”
“Tough?” Jayce repeated, still grinning. “You look like a cheap Halloween costume.”
Caitlyn scoffed and crossed her arms, trying to puff herself up. “Racers are tough, aren’t they?”
Jayce shook his head. “Racers are reckless. Unpredictable. You? You look like you walked in here with a plan and an escape route. Criminals don’t plan, Cait.”
That was untrue, but she let him have it. Jayce stepped forward, ruffling her jacket, tugging it slightly off her shoulder, and smudging some grease from a nearby rag onto her cheek. Caitlyn gasped in protest but held still.
“There. Now you look the part.” He clicked his tongue, admiring his handiwork. “Perfect.”
The moment Caitlyn stepped into the underground club, the air changed. It was suffocatingly loud — bass-heavy music thrummed through her chest like a second heartbeat, the scent of oil, sweat, and gasoline thick in the air. It was barely 4 PM, but the place was already alive, filled with people draped in racing leathers and grease-streaked coveralls, their conversations buzzing about mods, wagers, and upcoming races.
She didn’t belong here. Not yet.
Caitlyn forced herself to walk deeper inside, her shoulders tense, posture guarded. A few racers glanced her way, their stares calculating, assessing whether she was worth their time or just another rookie. She kept moving, angling herself toward the bar where a woman with dark goggles pushed onto her forehead and braids was pouring drinks with the ease of someone who’d been here long enough to know every face.
A distraction. That’s what she needed. Something to keep her from sticking out like a sore thumb. She got a drink, something simple. A pop. She didn’t want to be drunk and dealing with racers.
She was sitting at the bar, sipping away at her fizzy drink when a racer slid onto the creaky stool beside her, the sudden presence making Caitlyn flinch. Her fingers tightened around her drink as she glanced at them.
They wore a sleek racing helmet, red and black, the visor reflecting Caitlyn’s pale face back to her. The suit clung tight against the racers skin. Caitlyn blinked obnoxiously a few times, her eyes tracing the figure as if trying to read what they might want from her.
Then she realized—they weren’t just looking in her direction. They were looking at her.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched as the racer reached up, unfastening the helmet with practiced ease. A shake of their head sent red hair tumbling loose, vibrant under the flickering lights. Powder-blue eyes locked onto hers, studying, calculating.
A girl.
“You new?” The red haired woman spoke, setting her helmet on the bar with a solid thunk. She shifted in her seat, trying to get a better look at the blue haired girl, her eyes narrowed, inspecting Caitlyn.
“Yes… I just moved here.” Her accent was thick, more so than she noticed ever before. Vi snorted at the British woman, a crooked smile playing on her scarred lips.
“You look too prissy to be here, sweetheart. This is a racing club, not bingo.”
Caitlyn winced, her eyebrows furrowing at the statement. She was already painfully aware of how out of place she looked—how it didn’t matter that Jayce had tried to rough her up. She still screamed outsider.
“I know that. I race, actually.”
Vi arched a brow, seeming unconvinced. She drummed her fingers against her helmet, considering Caitlyn for a beat too long. Then, her smirk widened.
“Oh yeah?”
Caitlyn’s stomach tightened. Something about that smirk made her uneasy.
Vi leaned in towards Caitlyn, lowering her voice to a more threatening one. “Show me.”
Caitlyn blinked. “What?”
“You said you race,” Vi repeated. “So prove it.”
Around them, a few nearby racers had taken interest, murmuring under their breaths. This was exactly the kind of attention Caitlyn didn’t need. But backing down wasn’t an option. She needed to complete this mission. If she hesitated now, she’d lose Vi’s interest—and her only shot at getting deeper into the underground.
Bracing herself, Caitlyn forced a smirk onto her lips. “Fine, let’s do this”
Vi pushed off the bar and grabbed her helmet. “Hope you didn’t bring a piece of junk. ‘Cause I don’t take it easy on rookies.”
Caitlyn swallowed hard, already regretting every choice that had led her here.
But there was no turning back now.