When Tony had moved to Los Angeles, he had been escaping the specter of his parents. Everywhere he turned in New York, memories of his parents and his butler, Edwin Jarvis, hit him like a sucker punch.

Booze and drugs did little to make that better, and so Tony fled across the country, built a mansion atop a cliff, and upon inheriting Stark Industries at twenty-one, he officially moved the headquarters to Los Angeles as his first act as CEO.

Tony had been fresh out of MIT when he moved to Southern California, and with tons of time to kill while he waited to receive his inheritance, he had to find something to occupy his time. Because even for him, there was a limit to how much drinking and fucking he could do.

His drunk driving arrest forced Tony to pick up a hobby or two. Plus, he learned a few more languages, figured out how to fix cars and motorcycles, and got into illegal street racing.

The last thing was something not even Rhodey knew about.

At the time, Tony had resented Rhodey for enlisting in the Air Force right out of college and leaving him to his own devices. And in the end, Tony had never gotten around to telling his best friend. He knew Rhodey would give him the lecture to end all lectures if he ever spilt that little secret.

Tony only raced until he was able to take over as CEO of Stark Industries, and by then he was too busy to continue that specific bad habit.

But it didn’t mean Tony hadn’t kept up with the people in the community. So when he pulled up to the parking lot of the bodega on Crenshaw, his dark red 1953 Ghia Cadillac wasn’t the only classic car parked alongside the shiny, souped-up foreign ones.

And if anyone was curious about its owner, Tony had worn a mask that he would never admit had been inspired by the Mission Impossible movies. It completely changed his facial structure. His face was rounder and clean-shaven. He had round eyes, a thin narrow mouth, and his nose was now a short, button-like thing instead of his usual Roman nose. His hair and eyes were the only things that stayed the same.

This mask had come in handy more than once when Tony wanted to go out without being recognized or mobbed by the press.

Tony, with his disguise firmly in place, wore a black Pantera T-shirt and jeans that didn’t stand out all that much. The place was a showcase of people who were clearly there to show off their designer T-shirts, low-sagging jeans, expensive big chains, and sneakers that sometimes cost as much as the cars they bought.

Tony eyed a beautiful Black woman with long twists that fell to her ass and who was wearing a halter and pleated skirt that showed off a lot of her dark umber skin.

‘Find Dom now,’ Tony chided himself. ‘Ogle, women later.” He walked towards the place where the camera had been located and found Dom’s red 1993 Mazda RX-7.

Dom leaned against his car, his arm slung over his partner’s shoulder. Tony had never met Brian O’Connor officially, but he knew from his little intervention in that truck-jacking case what Brian looked like. And the photos didn’t really do him justice. He was tall with light blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and a gorgeous, mischievous grin.

He looked like a combination of a cherub and a Calvin Klein model.

“What you are looking at?” A gruff-looking white man with a beard, wearing a tank top and jeans, rushed towards Tony.

“Whoa.” Tony put his hands up. “Nothing, dude. I’m just checking out the car. This is a sweet Mazda.”

Dom turned and gave Tony a look. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, Scarecrow,” Tony said. “Just a miscommunication.”

“What the fuck?” The man gestured to Tony. “Dom, you know this asshole?”

Dom blinked, and then he looked him up and down. Brian looked between the two with confused looks as he silently mouthed, ‘Scarecrow’? Only Mia, draped all over a pretty Latina woman, remained unconcerned.

“Oh my god,” the pretty Latina cackled. “That is so gay!”

“Stop it, Letty.” Mia rolled her eyes. “You are just as gay as he is.”

Letty pouted at her girlfriend, and Mia just shook her head and kissed her on the lips.

“It’s okay, Vince.” Dom threw an annoyed look at Vince and then Letty before he turned back to Tony with a small, wry smile on his face. “Besides, there is only one person stupid enough to call me that to my face.” He pulled Brian forward, and the group followed behind him. “Hey, Tin man, I didn’t think you would show.”

The two exchanged a dap, and Dom shook his head. “You changed a bit. Didn’t recognize you.”

“Tin man? Scarecrow?” Brian asked. “What’s with the Wizard of Oz references?”

Dom and Tony exchanged an amused look, and both shook their head. It was way before Dom got his crew, and it had involved too much tequila, a Tijuana jail cell, and a punch to the face.

“It’s a long story.” Dom shrugged.

Tony nodded in agreement. “Are they here?”

“Jinx?” Dom asked. “Yeah, she’s racing tonight.”

“You are doing bike racing now.” Tony frowned.

“You’ve been off the radar for a while,” Dom shrugged. “Things changed.”

Someone shouted, and then a party horn went off. As one, the people made their way to the sidewalks to watch the race. The street had been cleared and blocked off from regular traffic. At the intersection of West Segumono Street, five men on motorcycles lined up, but he immediately spotted Kendis’s sleek Kawasaki ZX-6R idling next to them. One man said something to her and grabbed his dick with a laugh.

Kendis, with her black helmet and visor covering her head, simply ignored them, and a woman walked over to stand between them with a black-and-white checkered flag.

“On your mark!”

“Get Ready!”

“Go!” The woman brought down her white flag, and the bikes were off, a cloud of burning rubber trailing behind them.

“10 grand on Jinx,” Tony said as he watched Kendis’ retreating back.

Dom just laughed. “I don’t take sucker bets.”