Wrote this kind of fast. Hope it doesn't suck too bad.
Untitled
He locked his laptop and the screen informed him in crisp, bold numbers that it was just past noon. He closed the lid and unplugged it from his monitor. At the desk next to him, Jimmy pretended not notice. But when he scooped his keys up and pocketed them, he turned.
Taking off already?
Whats it to you, fucking busy body?
He mumbled something about a doctors appointment and made for the door. As his bastards luck would have him, Chris, the Director of Marketing came strolling out of one of the fish tank conference rooms and almost plowed into him. Chris looked at his laptop bag before checking his watch.
Taking your work to lunch, David?
Davids pulse moved up a gear. I have an appointment with the dentist. I thought I put a reminder on your calendar.
Chris frowned.
What a prick he was.
Ill have to check, but I dont recall seeing anything. Will you be returning afterwards?
Not likely.
Its on the other side of Piedmont. With the traffic, it wouldnt make sense to try and come back after. Plus, I dont know how long itll be. Its been a while since I had dental work done.
Chris, like the micro-manager he was, stood there, blocking the exit as though there was a decision to be made. Finally, after far too long he stepped aside. Well, I guess well see you tomorrow.
Sounds good.
The steering wheel was loose beneath his hands, slick with sweat and difficult to maintain. In his chest, his heart was playing a cold-blooded game of peek-a-boo.
It didnt make sense staying there anyway. It wasnt like he was getting anything done. And any work he did would simply need to be re-done when his head was screwed on straight.
He thought about where to go as he barreled down the 101. Each time he swerved to overtake a vehicle, clinking sounds could be heard in the trunk like correct answers on Jeopardy. He could go see Maggie. He hadnt seen Maggie in a while. She has kind eyes and didnt talk too much.
He checked the rearview and spotted highway patrol a few cars back. He let off the gas and swore loudly. The speedometer slowly descended back to a more reasonable mark of 70mph. Unfortunately, it was too little too late as the police cruiser moved into his lane and accelerated to meet him.
Goddammit! If he pulls me over . . . If he checks the trunk . . .
For several exits the cop followed him, likely running his plates. On the distance his exit could be seen. He contemplated skipping Maggie. But then where would he go? He was going the wrong way for any other place he could think of but wouldnt getting off at the next exit be daring the cop to pull him over?
He checked the rearview without moving his head and thought about lighting a cigarette. No, he thought, nothing looks more suspicious than a cigarette.
At that moment, the police cruiser changed lanes and pulled alongside him. David turned his head slowly, expecting to see the cop pointing to the shoulder. Instead the officer mouthed the words slow down and sped off.
He moaned in relief and took the next exit at an old womans pace before merging onto the busy causeway.
Built on landfill, the causeway took him through a four-mile stretch of sour-smelling swampland. As he accelerated to overtake the car in front of him, he thought about all the dumping hed done here over the years. It must have been in tonnage. Jim, Jose, J.D . . . hed murdered all the Js. Then of course there was Tom. Hell, Tom was in the trunk this very moment making a racket.
He overtook the car and floored it once more. The stench of the swamp turned his stomach. Not so much for its pungent, sulfur-like smell, but for the memories it conjured.
Why was he like this? Not enough love? Was it the ass whoopings his brother used to put on him? He sneered and looked at himself in the rearview.
By the time he arrived at Maggies his body was trembling and a chill crept up his spine. His feeling could best be described as soulless. His tongue was a swollen sponge, thick with old bile and his lips dry and threatening to crack. He felt, at best, wholly incomplete.
He climbed out and slammed the door of his sedan shut. Without bothering to resolve the situation in the trunk, he crossed the lot for Maggies. A sensation bordering on terror gripped him as he turned to the knob to find it locked. What the fuck is this? He raised a fist to bang on the door when it swung open.
Maggie stood in the doorway holding a sandwich board sign. Oh hi!
He chipper voice was severely unappreciated and stirred a bit of rage in him. He lowered his sweat-soaked fist. He just wanted to be inside, out of the goddamn sun.
Youre early, Maggie told him, the smell of her perfume sickening. Be a dear and set this down by the curb. She handed him the sign.
He clenched his jaw and carried the sign to the curb. Along the way, a pain, like that of folding knife, pierced his side.
Hold your goddamn horses, he said to himself.
He opened the door to Maggies and found the dimly lit room refreshing. He took a seat while she finished tidying up her affairs.
After some time she turned and her words, like he promise of a lover, washed over him. These two words stripped all the hate and self-loathing with which he piloted himself and for the first time that day he fashioned a smile.
The usual?