“The two guards at the entrance nodded. “That your buggy? God—not much, is she?” “Does what it has to.” “Well, if you’re gonna race, you’ll have to get some tweaking done to it. And you’ll need a sponsor.” “What is that?” “Sponsor, son. Someone who pays your way into the race in exchange for getting their name promoted. Advertising. Not my area of … expertise. Go see Jackie Weeks, the race promoter; he can get you set up. Tell him I sent you. Race is tomorrow. I’ll be there. So will everyone els...e in town.” Clayton again shook his head at Raine’s buggy. “Didn’t know you were driving something so … small, so beat-up. But hell, got you here, didn’t it?” “Yes, it did.” Clayton flipped his monocle device up, like a jeweler looking away from his examination of a rare stone. “I can’t make you any promises, Raine. About anything. But you just remember that today, here, now … I did you …” He leaned close “… a fucking favor.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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