Play Time

“This is your place?” Raven was not sure what he expected, but the warehouse where he had tracked the car to previously was both appropriate and unexpected. Where would a punk rock chick live after all? He could not imagine her in a neat and tidy suburban house with a manicured lawn, nor in a tight, barren apartment like his.

Both Vixen and Shadow laughed as she activated the garage door and drove them down into the bowels of the building.

“Holy shit,” Raven breathed as the lights came on. There had to be over fifty cars, in various states around this level. He could see a spray-booth in a corner, and stacked toolboxes, all sorts of equipment for washing and detailing, even a little office tucked away with glass windows. “It is a chop shop.”

“No, we are legit,” Vixen parked the Ferrari next to another that was half red-half black with a sexy fade in between. He saw the customised yellow 4WD drive a few cars down. “We customise cars. The band, that is, in between gigs and rehearsals