Backstreet Boy

|Chapter 05: The Game Begins|

Jason

The grey Aston Martin sped off down the road before turning at the junction.

I bet she was attempting to ignore the black market as best as she could. There were countless black markets in The District that were all speckled around. You couldn't walk ten blocks without bumping into one. You always want to stay clear of black markets; you never know what sort of peril or quandary you'll find yourself in when you approach one.

Marching back into the garage, I was grumbling incessantly. Alex noticed and popped his head out from under the bonnet he's been working on for the past hour. "Has she finally gone?"

"Yeah," I breathed. "And I don't think I'll be seeing her again anytime soon."

Alex chucked a cloth to me and despite how many times I'd rub my hands on this wretched, always-tarnished cloths, my hands would never be clean and devoid of stains. That was an annoyance when it came to my occupation which was working in a garage. Occupation, however, is such a strong word. I merely spend my hours here doing my dad and my other brother's work after school when I should be doing homework and revising. That never works out as planned.

Alex sighed and closed the bonnet. "Do you think Dad will come round tonight like yesterday?"

"And order me to race again?"

Candidly, I did race for money, but not for drugs like that girl – Isabella – accused me of – well, not predominantly, anyway seeing as I do also get paid for working in McCann Motors. Racing gave me an exhilarating thrill like a rush of adrenalin. Some guys got their kicks from drugs (like what I'd do sporadically but not for the same thrill and more for a relaxation indulgence), others got theirs from sex but I got mine from racing my own navy Jaguar XF – a present from my dad. And winning the money was just an added bonus which I'd either owe my dad or spend on fags, drugs or sometimes encouraged: women.

Typically when it came to the "women" option, I just gave them money and sat silently in the room with them until it would be deemed an acceptable time to exit the vicinity. Being in the room gave me time to think. The females would just count the money and smoke, perhaps sometimes sharing the fag or joint with me, too. It helped clear my mind of all the evil and peril in my guild-ridden mind. I'm wasting money on females that give their bodies to guys for money in order to make a living through influence and peer-pressure.

All my brothers normally got in on the action, however. Most of them were quite the contradictory of me. Sometimes I'd like to see the good things in people – not always the negative side of things. It's just Dad and us four brothers now. We used to have another one, but no one ever talks about him anymore since he was an infidelity to our family and the name of McCann.

Dad's name was Jeremy McCann. Then there are the four brothers. In age order from older to youngest, there's Nicholas McCann (twenty-nine), Cole McCann (twenty-six), Alex McCann (twenty-one) and myself (eighteen). There's a sibling rivalry, too. Both Nick and Cole are always defending Dad whilst Alex and I are always on the same side.

"He might ask me," Alex compromised. "Although we all know who's the better brother when it comes to racing." He idly pointed his finger to me factually.

"I'm done for the night," I exclaimed. "I'm not racing. I'll finish up some of the cars here and then we're going home, alright? I hate these streets at night."

No one could abhor where they live as much as most of the occupants in The District. Everyone was fortunate to still be alive, but that didn't mean they also didn't want to die and escape this wretched part of town or at least, win the lottery and upgrade to The Valley.