Jazzy cackled as she shifted gears, the engine roaring. Sirens wailed behind them. “Ooooh, babyyy… They’re gaining… Fuck that. We’re losing 'em!” she shouted to Anon over the engine’s roar. They sped down the highway, the speedometer climbing to 120 mph. Jazzy expertly navigated an off-ramp, evading the police. “Holy shit, mi vida! That was close!” she said, relieved. “Sorry, mi amor. Let’s get to Diego’s. I’ll buy you drinks!”