This is a sneak peek from my novel, Flirting With Danger, released July 2023!
At exactly six that evening, with the sidewalks lined and congested with hundreds of onlookers, a swarm of cars flew down Chelsea and simultaneously came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the street as if the maneuver was choreographed. In a large opening purposely left in front of the Church’s Chicken, a single lime green Challenger sat with its engine running. The crowd held its collective breath in anticipation until the tires squealed loudly while the driver did a burnout.
“Clear the street on the west end,” Jackson instructed over the radio. “Get the traffic moving.”
When the Challenger pulled out of the clearing, a red Mustang replaced it and whipped into a series of donuts, much to the bystanders’ entertainment. The driver stopped in the middle of the clearing, rolled the windows down on the car, and suddenly the street filled with the sound of Yo Gotti’s voice rapping “Str8 From Da North”, the song’s bass thumping from the car’s sound system. The crowd cheered, and the Mustang, joined by a yellow Kia Stinger, whipped into a duet of donuts.
River and the other officers hurried to try to clear the street, but the crowd was too thick and the cars refused to move out the street. The clearing in the center of the crowd grew larger and the show grew wilder as two men stood in the street recording as two cars performed donuts around each of them.
“We gotta get this crowd outta here!” River shouted over the radio. “I’m going to walk down here and start clearing some of these people out.”
Unable to penetrate the crowd in his squad car, River jumped out and ran down the street into the throng of onlookers. A white Nissan Altima was now the center of attention as a group of four women hung out the windows and sunroof waving assault rifles while the driver spun the car around in circles while blasting Big Boogie from the car’s factory speakers.
What the fuck, River thought as he watched the car spin wildly in the street. If this ain’t the most ignorant shit I’ve ever seen! Ain’t shit special about that damn car! Listen to those tires! She gone need some ball joints in the morning with her dumb ass!
River stopped and stared at what was really going on. There were cars parked along the street blasting music, and the bystanders were sitting on the hoods and trunks of the cars watching the show. There were people of all ages, male and female, watching, singing, and dancing as the cars performed the dangerous tricks for the crowd. For what must’ve been one of the very few times in the city’s history, there was a large group of Black people gathered in one place, and there wasn’t one argument or gunshot heard. Everyone was getting along and having a good time. If they hadn’t been impeding traffic and wielding semi-automatic and automatic weapons out the windows of cars, River would’ve been tempted to leave and allow them to enjoy the festivities. However, because one mishandling of a gun or flick of a wheel in the wrong direction could’ve resulted in an innocent bystander being injured or worse, River knew he had to stick to the plan and follow orders, no matter how peaceful the assembly currently was.
Tapping the hood of a black Maxima at the front of the line, River shouted to the driver.
“Keep going! Move on, move on!” The thin female pulled off down the street, and River continued to the next car, a blue Infiniti, issuing orders to move the car. One car after another, he instructed the drivers to move their cars out the road until he glanced up the street while shouting at the driver of a gold-colored Mercedes Benz and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
River’s jaw struck the concrete pavement, and his heart stopped. He thought he must’ve been looking at a mirage, and he nearly passed out. The shock on his face quickly morphed to a burning anger as he stood there watching the mother of his twins bent over on the hood of her car with Glorilla’s “FNF” blaring from the speakers, one foot on each of the headlights, twerking like it was thunder storming hundred-dollar-bills as a crowd of men and women cheered her on. What was worse was that her pregnant best friend was standing on the roof of the car throwing her ass in a circle and shaking her belly so hard he was sure CPS would’ve been interested in hearing about it.
In that instant, River lost all sense of self-control. He bolted down the street and in one swift motion, scooped Alayzia off the hood of her car, holding her underneath his arm like she was a football he was trying to get across the goal line.
“Get the fuck down right now!” he screamed at Chardae. “Get yo mother fucking ass off the damn car now!”
“Put me the fuck down!” Alayzia shouted as she squirmed under his arm.
“Get your mother fucking ass in the damn car and get the fuck outta here, Lay! What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed as he stood her back on her feet in front of her driver side door. “You ain’t been home all night, and I come out here and find you shaking your ass in the middle of the street! What the fuck is wrong with you? Get the fuck in the car!” he barked.
Alayzia did as she was told, and when Chardae finally climbed into the passenger seat, River boomed through her open window. “Go drop Chardae’s pregnant ass off and take your stupid ass home, Lay! I ain’t playing with you! Don’t be at home when I get there and see what happens!” he threatened.
“Shut the fuck up, River. You ain’t gone do shit!” she replied and rolled her eyes.
“Try me and see! Try that shit and see! I dare you!” he warned her.
Alayzia’s tires squealed as she snatched off down the street and out of sight. River’s blood was boiling, and his head was throbbing so hard his pulse sounded like a Ghanaian drum in his ears. He turned and glared at the people in the crowd who had been cheering her on before barking orders for everyone to clear the street while his partners continued trying to clear the cars out the middle of the intersection.