The late evening air hangs warm over Los Angeles. The wide boulevard stretches under long rows of streetlights, their orange glow reflecting off the pavement. Even late at night, the city carries its constant background noise: distant engines, a helicopter somewhere high above, and the occasional car drifting through the intersection.

You sit inside your patrol cruiser with the Los Angeles Police Department, parked along the side of the road during a speed enforcement shift. The interior of the vehicle is dim, lit mostly by the soft glow of the radar unit on the dashboard.

Cars pass every few minutes.

Most stay close enough to the speed limit.

You watch the empty stretch of boulevard ahead when a set of headlights appears in the distance. As the car approaches, something else becomes noticeable before it even reaches your position.

Music.

Loud music spilling out through slightly open windows. The bass carries down the road, echoing faintly between the nearby buildings.

Then the radar chirps sharply.

87 mph.

You glance at the screen.

The posted speed limit is 50.

You pull your cruiser out behind the car and flip on the overhead lights. Red and blue reflections flash across the street, bouncing off parked vehicles and storefront windows.

The SUV ahead slows almost immediately. The music is still playing as it signals and pulls toward the curb.

You follow and stop several feet behind it, positioning the cruiser at an angle. The emergency lights continue pulsing across the pavement.

You radio the stop in, then step out of the car.

The night air feels slightly cooler outside. The music from the SUV is clearer now, though the driver lowers the volume as you approach. By the time you reach the driver’s window, it has nearly faded to silence.

Inside the vehicle are two people.

When the interior light clicks on, you recognize them.

Behind the wheel sits Jenna Ortega, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. In the passenger seat beside her is Sabrina Carpenter, leaning slightly toward the center console.

The interior of the car was softly lit by the glow of the streetlight above. A couple of coffee cups sat in the cup holders, and a phone was connected to the car’s audio system.

Jenna looked up at you with a small, apologetic expression.

“Oh… hi,” she said quietly.

Sabrina glanced over as well, clearly realizing what had just happened.

You spoke calmly.

“Good evening. Officer with LAPD.”

Jenna nodded.

“Yeah… I figured.”

You gestured slightly toward the road behind.

“Do you know how fast you were going tonight?”

Jenna glanced at the dashboard, then back at you.

“Honestly… probably faster than I should have.”

Sabrina leaned back in her seat and gave a small laugh.

“We might’ve been a little distracted.”

You raised an eyebrow slightly.

“A little?”

Jenna sighed.

“We were listening to music and talking. I wasn’t really paying attention to the speed.”

Sabrina nodded toward the radio.

“That part might’ve been my fault.”

The car was quiet now except for the faint hum of the engine.