The Meaning of the Street Racing Competition

Amid the crowd's loud boos, Tej hurried over to Alvin like a lackey and led them to a less crowded spot.

Alvin narrowed his eyes at Tej, who was bustling around. When Tej finally gave him an ingratiating smile and tried to speak, Alvin sneered. "You money-grubbing bastard, have you lost your mind?

Was Death Race not good enough? Did you really need some attention-grabbing gimmick?"

Tej tugged hard at his tie and gave a bitter smile, not daring to answer. He was afraid he'd get beaten up if he actually said what he was thinking.

Alvin turned to look at the packed crowd around them. There were scores of reporters and cameramen, and even a Broadcast Van was parked not far away.

Countless young men and women filled the huge plaza. Just as Alvin was about to praise Tej for putting together a decent event, a young man suddenly bounded onto an empty stage, setting off a wave of screams.

Alvin watched the young man sing and dance, driving the girls below into a frenzy. It took him a moment to remember: this was that little punk Justin, the guy who'd smoked too much Marijuana at the Television Station, tried to pick a fight with him, and then pissed on the bar in his own restaurant.

Alvin glared at Tej, who was still following close behind him with an ingratiating smile. Amused, he said, "You've got to hand it to them. A television broadcast, an opening performance—you're treating the Street Racing Competition finals like the Super Bowl, huh?

"But you're not even charging admission. Where's the money coming from?"

Tej had just been waiting for the chance to talk about this. The Black man rocked his head from side to side as he said, "ABC bought the broadcast rights