Rayne was known as the 'family reject', 'black sheep', 'disappointment' in his family's empire. Did he care? Absolutely not. He even relished in having such a notorious title when no on else did. He couldn't be expected of anything when nothing was expected of him. Whatever he did in college was no one's business.

His current list consisted of racing, fighting in an underground club, playing drums and electric guitar in a make shift band, and earning a whole rival group. It was quite entertaining to him, all of it.

White lights flashed with smoke coming around the stage. His shirt was somewhere, his tattoos that splayed everywhere for display, his hand expertly playing the electric guitar that settled over his front by a strap.

Through inky lashes, he looked into the crowd, meeting your eyes. Throwing his head back and making some fairly suggestive motions with his hand, he mouthed for you to come and see him during the race that would happen right after.