The Nightcrawler Page 3

  “You need to get in the curb lane. It’s just past the next light. Do you see it?” Sarah instructed him, pointing.

  He nodded and accelerated to get ahead of the neon blue Honda beside them. It had florescent lights that shone on the road illuminating the shadows beneath it, splash decals along the sides, low profile high performance tires, and a whiny sounding motor. The Honda sped up and closed the gap. The driver, who looked to be about eighteen, looked over wearing a smug grin.

  With a devious expression Scott looked at Sarah. “So the little prick wants to play, does he?”

  It was phrased as a question, but Scott didn’t expect an answer and Sarah didn’t give one. Both cars stopped at the next red light, the Explorer continued through the intersection and out of sight, leaving the Charger and the Honda waiting side by side. A steady flow of traffic buzzed through the intersection in front of them. Scott craned around Sarah to get a look at the driver.

  “Do you believe this? He’s barely out of diapers and tonight he wants to race cars.”

  Scott scanned the intersection and got a very hard look on his face.

  “Sarah, this is going to be fun.”

  “Scott, these kids around here are nuts. What the hell are you thinking of doing?”

  “I’m going to do very little. Junior over there is going to do everything.”

  With the car in neutral, he depressed the accelerator. It rumbled with the sound of pure, made in Detroit power. Scott taunted the young man, releasing the gas pedal, and then easing it down repeatedly.

  Sarah nervously looked into the small car barely more than an arm’s length away. The driver’s face was full of mischief, but next to him, a frightened girl looked to Sarah as if pleading for her to do something.

  “Man, they made great sounding cars back then, didn’t they?” Scott said.

  Every time the Charger roared, the Honda replied with a screaming whine.

  “Look at him,” Scott said. “Well he won’t be so smug in a minute.”

  “Just drop it,” Sarah said with great urgency in her voice.

  The Charger let out another roar, drawing Junior’s attention. Immediately Scott put the Charger in gear and the rear tires began to spin, causing billowing blue smoke to fill the wheel-wells. The Honda vaulted forward as the over eager young lad, still looking at Scott, popped the clutch and darted into the intersection. Almost as quick as the Charger lurched forward, Scott released the accelerator and slammed the brakes hard, stopping the car dead. The light hadn’t changed. A loud crash filled the air, vibrating windows in adjacent shops. A red Dakota pickup met the Honda with the force of two tons of steel at forty miles per hour. Pieces of Japanese engineering flew in all directions as the truck spun one hundred and eighty degrees then came to rest against a parked car. The Honda was no longer recognizable, at least from the front. The left fender, bumper and hood were on the road. Broken pieces of plastic and glass were scattered over the pavement throughout the intersection. The left front wheel was at an extreme angle to the other three and the tire was as flat as day old beer. Steam swirled in the breeze as it oozed from the ruptured radiator of the battered Honda.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sarah yelled. “They could have been killed. And the guy in the truck, what did he do to deserve that?”

  “He’s fine and so are those kids,” Scott said.

  The driver of the truck had gotten out and was surveying the damage to his vehicle. Junior was banging on the steering wheel and arguing with the teenage girl in the passenger seat. On the sidewalk, several pedestrians began to gather, chatting to each other and pointing at the Honda, then over to the Dakota.

  Scott drove up alongside of the Dakota and handed his card to the owner, a young man of about thirty give or take.

  “I saw the whole thing. We can’t wait for the authorities to come but if they need a statement, have them call the cell number on my card,” Scott told him, smirking like a child just pulling a gag on his little sister.

  Before the guy could reply, the Charger, glowing red and pristine was heading up the road to Pierre’s. In the parking lot, Scott guided the car to a stop beside a light post. Sarah remained seated as Scott walked to the passenger side and opened her door. He held out his hand but she didn’t take it.

  “What’s wrong?” He was completely oblivious to the cause of her soured mood.

  “They were just kids having some fun. They could have been seriously hurt. Shit they could have been killed.” She was already three steps toward the front door to Pierre’s before Scott closed the car door and turned to join her.

  The entrance was old and stunning. Large wooden double doors curved to a peak at the top where they met. Big bronze handles gave the patrons a sense of entering a European castle. The doors were sheltered by a long burgundy awning, “Pierre’s” in large white cursive text emblazoned on the side.

  As they approached a doorman greeted them, “Welcome to Pierre’s.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said.

  They stopped in front of the maitre’d. “Hello my name is Serge, welcome to Pierre’s. Do you have reservations?”

  “Scott Randall,” Scott announced.

  Serge looked on his sheet. “I’m sorry, we have no Scott Randall booked this evening. Would you like to put your name in for a stand-by table?”

  Scott chuckled to himself, “Stand-by, what is this Delta Airlines?”

  Sarah stepped to the front. “Try Thomas Andrews.”

  “Ah yes, now I recognize you, miss. Mr. Andrews will not be joining us this evening?”

  “No.” she said. “He wasn’t available tonight.”

  “Yes, yes.” Serge said. He led them to a table in the very back corner of the room. “Will this be suitable?”

  “This will be perfect, Serge.” Scott said. Who knows, maybe with some luck and some good wine he could get this train back on track. He really didn’t want to go back to his room alone tonight.

  They didn’t talk much before dinner, but as he hoped, both loosened up after a couple glasses of wine. Scott gave his best effort at being remorseful about screwing Junior over. They both had a few laughs at Thomas’ expense. Sarah had tapped his hand once while making a point about Thomas, and Scott felt sure she let it linger just long enough to be suggestive.

  Soon, they relaxed into the casual banter of two people on a first date. They discussed movies, music, favorite books and TV shows.

  “So, do you have anyone special back in LA?” she asked.

  “Does my dog count?”

  A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Come on, there must be someone back home.”

  Scott gave her a history of his relationships. How he lived with someone for four years but it didn’t work out. How she couldn’t get used to him spending so much time at work. How she often accused him of cheating, so they ended it. How they are still friends. How she has moved on, now married to a nice nine-to-fiver, they have a baby boy now. How this, how that…blah, blah, blah.

  Sarah gave him a similar tale. Scott had a good idea that Thomas Andrews figured into her story, but she didn’t let on.

  “So you have a dog?”

  “Sure do. She’s the closest family I have.”

  “What kind of dog is he?”

  “She is a Doberman. She’s two and a half and her name is Max.”

  “A girl named Max?”

  “Well her real name is Equinox Dark Angel, from the TV show. I got her from a nice old lady in Vancouver. She knows everything there is about dogs.”

  “What do you do with Max when you’re on the road?”

  “Well, the first time I had to leave her in a kennel. She wasn’t the same for a month. It was a good kennel. I checked them out and they were the best in the area. I guess it just wasn’t home. Now one of the girls from the office stays at my place when I’m away. She isn’t allowed dogs in her building so she looks forward to my trips.”

  “One of the girls,” Sarah repeated with on
e eyebrow raised.

  “What?”

  “Girls?”

  “Okay, one of the women,” he said, adding, “And she’s just a friend.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask.”

  The waiter arrived at the table, “Will you be having dessert or cocktails? Tonight’s dessert special is New York style cheesecake with cherries or blueberries. But quite frankly all the desserts are special here at Pierre’s.” The waiter’s name was Bob. A tall, thin man who enunciated more clearly than any man Scott had ever met.

  “Bob, dinner was great and I couldn’t eat another bite. Sarah, would you like anything else?”

  She looked directly into Bob’s eyes saying, “No thank you.”

  “Very well,” Bob said. “Then if you’ll just sign here. Mr. Andrews has left instructions to forward the bill to his office, so I will say good night and thank you.”

  Scott signed the bill and handed it back.

  He got up from his chair and as Sarah retrieved her purse from the floor beneath her, he walked to her left to help her up. She smiled and told him she needed to use the ladies room before they left. She disappeared behind a swinging door, with the word “Mesdemoiselles” written in the same script as the awning out front. He leaned against the wall as nonchalantly as he could, waiting for her return.

  He was checking his watch when she came out. It was nine thirty-nine.

  “I wasn’t that long, was I?” she asked.

  She looked beautiful. He was once again aware of the way her jacket cradled her breasts. The V-shape made by her lapels seemed to be saying “look here” and he found it hard not to listen. The slender cut of her slacks, hemmed to accommodate her heels, combined with the vertical pinstripes made her legs look five feet long.

  “Not at all.” He put his hand gently on her shoulder and motioned her toward the exit.

  They walked quietly across the parking lot to the Charger, parked strategically under a light. Scott crouched down looking along the lines of the car. He scoured it from the hood to the trunk lid.

  “What are you looking for?” Sarah asked.

  “Sometimes tiny dents stand out better in artificial light.”

  Returning to the front of the car, he reached his hand into the grille and released the hood latch. He lifted the hood and began to inspect the machinery within.

  “Is something wrong?” Sarah asked.

  “Not a thing,” he said. “Everything looks great.”

  Sarah stood beside him as he admired the source of the Charger’s power. It was spotless. Black hoses glistened as though polished. Red wires fanned out from the distributor. Large letters on the breather spelled SIX PACK.

  “What’s a six pack?” she asked, pointing.

  “It has three two barrel carburetors,” he answered without looking up. “It wasn’t available in the 69 but it is a fine engine.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the keys. Holding them out he asked her to start it up. She took the keys and got in.

  Scott was leaning on the car with both hands when it started. He closed his eyes and listened as Sarah depressed the gas pedal and the engine rumbled like rolling thunder in the distant sky. The way Scott stood over the 440, his eyes closed, he could have been listening to a violin solo. He shut the hood and saw through the windshield that Sarah had shifted across the gap between the seats to the passenger side and was playing with the radio. Once again, his eyes were drawn to her breasts while she reached for the volume control. This time he was more than enjoying the view, he was getting aroused.

  Back in the drivers seat, his eyes were locked on her every movement as she finished adjusting the radio and sat back.

  “So where should I take you?” he asked.

  “My car is in the garage at the office,” she said and turned to look toward the street. Not what he was hoping to hear, but he didn’t hear any fat lady singing yet.

  “How did you get to the hotel?”

  “I walked. Thomas didn’t want to pay for parking.” She grinned sheepishly. “You’re not supposed to know that.”

  The drive to Sarah’s car started out a bit edgy, their conversation forced. They spoke of one neutral topic after another, the weather, sports, Thomas Andrews. As they neared the office, Scott threw out a few subtle innuendos.

  “I‘m wide awake. I know I won’t be able get to sleep tonight.”

  “I know what you mean. A big meal like that this late isn’t a good idea.”

  “Do you want to grab a nightcap? There’s a cozy piano bar in the hotel.”

  “That sounds nice, Scott, but I have to be at work early tomorrow. I really shouldn’t have come to dinner.”

  “What was it you were supposed to do tonight? Back at the hotel you said you had something to do.”

  “Nothing really. Just something with my sister. Nothing I can’t do tomorrow.”

  So it went, until they pulled up to the parking garage entrance. Scott looked at her. The door was closed and he didn’t have the key.

  “Oh yeah!” she said grinning. Her purse was between the two front seats, she turned toward him and he looked directly into her eyes. Sarah averted her gaze and Scott noticed her hands were a bit unsteady as she fumbled through her purse. He took her passkey making sure to stroke her hand as he retrieved it.

  “Nice ride,” he said motioning to a candy apple red Miata. It was the only car left in the garage, and he pulled the Charger in beside it.

  He walked around to open her door. Standing beside the car, his right hand holding the open door, Scott extended his left and this time she allowed him to assist her.

  He watched as she raised herself out of the car. Standing, she released his hand as they came face to face. He put his left hand on the roof blocking her escape and looked deep into her eyes. She held his gaze and they moved toward each other until their lips met.

  He guided her away from the car door and closed it. Scott pressed his body against hers and forced her against the side of the car. With each breath, their lust for each other grew, overriding any inhibitions. Sarah’s earlier reluctance to continue their evening with a drink was now forgotten as she surrendered to her desire. This wasn’t dating or courting, it was desire, lascivious hot passion. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

  He slipped his hand between them and unbuttoned her jacket. She willingly allowed him to maneuver her to the front of the car. Their hands twisted buttons and pulled at belts and zippers as they moved. Her jacket had slid down her arms to her elbows. His hands were all over her. She reclined on the hood of the car, Scott following her, his lips moving from her neck to her breasts. He slid her bra under her breasts, not bothering with hooks or clips. Completely given into the sexuality Sarah reached over her head and clung to the edge of the hood along the windshield. Her back arched as his lips traced the lines of her abs until he reached the line of her lace panties. Scott gently guided the lacy garment to her slacks, which were already down around her knees. She moaned when her completely bare ass made contact with the warm steel of the hood.

  They were beyond turning back as he rose up to meet her, their bodies slick with sweat in the hot humid air. They moved with a rhythm that quickened as they drove each other closer to climax.

  They did it right there on the car. It was exciting, fast animal lust and it was exactly what they both wanted. When they finished, he collapsed on her, both gasping for air.

  Scott didn’t get back into the Charger until Sarah was out of sight. When he did, he was in no mood to go back to his room. He left the garage and began driving. By twelve-fifty, he found himself on the 696 heading east. The throaty drone of the Charger, and the wind coming in the open window were the only sounds. Ninety-five miles per hour and she has lots more. One hundred, one ten.

  Very nice he thought.

  Chapter Six

  Roger woke to a loud banging noise on the side of Pete’s rig. He cried out at the suddenness of the thumping. His clothes were damp with perspiration and
he could feel his heart pounding inside his chest. The absolute dark inside the sleeper had the boy a bit confused at first.

  The familiar sound of Pete’s voice cleared that up, “Damn, Rog, you gonna sleep all day?”

  In spite of the smell of sweat, stale air and his damp clothes, Roger felt recharged by a good nights sleep. He scrambled around in the dark for a way out of the truck. The early morning light struck him in the face with the force of a camera flash and he winced while holding his hands up to shield his eyes. The passenger door of the truck hung open and he climbed down to see Pete grinning like a dad waiting to take his boy to his first NHL game.

  “Like I said last night, I hate sleepin’ in that thing. Don’t seem to bother you none though, do it? Anyway, I dropped in on a friend last night and slept in the house there. She got some breakfast started if you’re hungry.” Pete’s endearing Kentucky twang came across with added enthusiasm.

  “What time is it?” Roger asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes and still squinting from the harshness of the sunshine.

  “’Bout six, maybe a little after. You been sleepin’ since nine or so.” Pete studied Roger and added, “You look like crap, boy. Ya feelin’ okay?”

  Roger ran his fingers through his hair then brought his hands down across his face. “I’m good. I was just dreaming.”

  A look of fear seemed to seep into his expression. “There was a car. It was big and old but new too. A red noisy car. A guy standing over me. He seemed pissed. Pissed at me.”

  Roger stopped and looked at Pete. There was a genuine look of concern in Pete’s eyes.

  “He was mad at me but I was hurt, lying on the ground bleeding and bent into weird contorted angles. It seemed so real.”

  “Sometimes dreams don’t make sense but they feel like real life. Funny huh?” Pete put his hand on Roger’s shoulder and guided him toward the front steps.

  It was a small white frame cottage with green shutters and a white picket fence. The paint on the house and fence needed some attention but the yard was well-kept and the flowerbed in front was full of color reminding Roger of his mother. The front porch spanned the full width of the house. Potted geraniums bloomed bright red on both sides of each step. A two-seat swing sat empty in the shade of the porch overhang, swaying slightly in the early morning breeze. The only sounds were their foot falls on the wooden stairs and the birds enthusiastically welcoming the day.