Page 93 of Cash

THIRTY-TWO - Cash

I twistedthe throttle tight and veered into the lane that didn’t exist. Splitting traffic on the freeways of Southern California required a keen eye, a steady set of hands, and a tremendous amount of balls.

With one lane of cars six inches from my left hand, and the other lane six inches from my right, I blew through the traffic jam at eighty miles an hour, splitting the two lanes in the middle. Most states didn’t allow splitting traffic, as it was too dangerous. It was legal in California, of all places, which made no sense whatsoever – their freeways were far more congested than any other state.

One wrong move on anyone’s part, and I’d have to be scooped up with a shovel.

I didn’t care. I had places to be, people to see, and problems to resolve.

Since Kimberly asked me to leave, it seemed I’d thrown caution to the wind. I wasn’t suicidal by any means, but I placed little value on my life. That much was certain.

With my eyes fixed on the vehicles positioned a quarter of a mile ahead, I shot through the non-existent lane hoping that whoever was at my side didn’t toss one of their doors open to get a breath of fresh air or spit the saliva from their chewing tobacco out onto the freeway.

In fifteen minutes I’d traveled the twenty miles without incident and had only five to go. With flashing lights ahead, I released the throttle and coasted to the end of the line of stationary traffic.

Two police motorcycles, an ambulance, and a wrecker marked the spot of the accident. As I crept past, I noticed a plastic sheet covering a body, a sure sign that someone’s clock had ticked its last tock. Beside the body, the remnants of a motorcycle were scattered beneath a tractor trailer.

May God be with you, my brother.

As I cleared the accident, I twisted the throttle as tight as I could. In and out of traffic I weaved, making the last five miles pass in the blink of an eye. One exit later, and I was entering La Mesa.

The mile of access road passed in seconds, leaving me with nothing but two blocks to travel.

My heart began to race.

Nervously, I crept the remaining distance at a speed so slow I was surprised I didn’t tip over. Before I could see the house out of my left eye’s peripheral, the familiar smell of the flowers caused my nostrils to flare. I grinned to myself, drew a long breath, and closed my eyes – but only for a second.

I killed the engine long before I pulled into the drive and coasted to a stop in silence.

I hoped she’d agree with my terms. If not, I’d live with a life of pain. If she did, I wondered if things would be the way we left them, start back from the very beginning, or somewhere in between. Whichever it might be, I was willing to accept it, if she accepted my terms.

I had no intention of lying to her. Shielding her from the truth, however, would do us both tremendous good, so that was my plan. Eager to begin our future, I took my helmet off, hung it on the handlebars, and checked myself in the mirror.

A tiger may not be able to change his stripes, but he could sure make them less noticeable.