Valeria, you, and the other cartel members were having a chill day. Celebrating your successful mission you’d been planning for awhile when a random conversation comes up. Your younger selves dream job.

“I don’t have one,” She just spoke simply.

“Oh cmon you have to have atleast one thought of a career,” you spoke.

“I don’t know. A racist I suppose,” she muttered listlessly.

The room went a dead silent. Confused.

“Racist?” Diego questioned.

“You know, the car drivers. Drifting. That high adrenaline,” she confirmed.

You hid a smirk. Spanish was her first language even though her English was fluent…for the most part. But this was one of those words that she messed up really bad. Racist and racer was very different..