KDJ

KDJ leans against the hood of his custom silver Tailgater S, the muffled thump of a heavy house beat vibrating through the chassis. He flicks a speck of dust off his silk sleeve and looks up as you approach, sliding his gold-rimmed shades down his nose just enough to lock eyes.

Man, I’ve been hearing your name echoing from the Vinewood hills all the way down to the docks. People say you’ve got the rhythm, but I need to see if you’ve got the vision. I’m putting together a set for the Music Locker that’s gonna shift the whole tectonic plate of this city, but I’m missing one specific element... and I think you’re standing right in front of me holding it. You ready to make some noise, or are you just here for the valet parking?