Page 32 of Fast Forward

“Kelli! Where the hell are you?” a young female voice asked in a whispered yell. “It’s 3:35! Will is doing his best to keep Mr Turrow entertained but we need you here right now!”

Oh God. The meeting! I’m late, I’m late, I’m… “Arghh!”

In a cruel twist of fate, I tripped on the chair leg at the table Grant and Charli had been sitting at. As I fell forward onto a large middle-aged man with his shirt untucked, I was bombarded by an unsightly bulge of fat and an inch of bottom crack in my face. Unbalanced by my unfortunate momentum, he fell forward, sandwiching a teenage boy between himself and the pavement.

“Get off me!” the boy said.

I struggled about trying to find my feet again and hoped the curved hem of my skirt didn’t ride up as much as it felt like it had. “I’m sorry, so sorry!” I said to the man and the innocent bystander who was flailing about underneath the mass of flesh.

I held out a hand and it took all my effort to help the heavier man up. Eventually he made it, his shirt now even more untucked but thankfully hiding the revolting bottom crack. The kid ran off like it was the zombie apocalypse and I turned my attention to the voice on the phone.

“Kelli, are you all right? What’s going on?”

“I just tripped in the street, that’s all.”

“In the street? You’re not even in the car yet?” Her voice escalated in tone but remained a whisper in volume. “Right, I’ll tell Mr Turrow that you’ve been caught in an unfortunate traffic incident that’s out of your control and you’ll be here in about ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can!” I raced back inside as fast as my old legs would carry me and found my way back to the car. Automatically reaching for non-existent keys in my non-existent handbag, my hands then flew to my cheeks. How do I unlock the car? Not only that, but where in the name of Dior is this bloody meeting?

Chapter 11

Three Hours and Twenty Minutes to Go

"The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." – Lucille Ball

Think, Kelli, think! How did Ryan open the car earlier? Okay, okay. I circled the car, while memories from this morning circled around my mind… the e-pad, he did something with his e-pad. I held my e-pad out and scanned it along the side of the car, hoping for a scanning device, or a miracle. Nothing.

Maybe it just opens the normal way? I glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then, hoping I wouldn’t set off an alarm, lifted the handle on the front door. The door stayed closed, but a slight beep sounded. I bent over to get a closer look at the door handle. A thin red laser protruded from underneath and I held my e-pad to it.

Click! I opened the front door and slid into the driver’s seat with relief. Problem one solved. Now, to drive this thing properly and find the location of the meeting. I tilted my head and looked to where the ignition would normally be and of course, in its place was a small round scanning device. I held my e-pad to it and the engine purred. Geez, what would stop someone from stealing my e-pad and then my car?

Something flashed on the dashboard: Please activate approved driver fingerprint recognition.

Huh? I glanced around for somewhere to roll my thumbprint onto, but nothing appeared to be for that purpose. I placed my hands on the small steering wheel and the words disappeared from the screen, replaced by: Welcome Kelli McSnelly. Oh, why thank you.

After a few moments of getting my mind around all the controls, making sure I knew where the brakes were, the car spoke to me: “Where would you like to go, Kelli?”

“Twenty-five years into the past?” Hey, it was worth a shot. “KC Interiors,” I said when the car failed to respond to my time travel request.

A map formed on the screen, little flag symbols popping up. “There are five results for that location. Can you be more specific?”

“Um… KC Interiors…” I tried to think of something more specific than that. That was all I knew about where the meeting was. Hang on, five results. That must mean KC Interiors stores. Huh! Maybe I have franchises scattered around the city or something. This little business must be doing all right.

“There are five results for KC Interiors. Could you be more specific,” Miss Car repeated.

Of course, duh! I slapped my forehead. “KC Interiors Head Office,” I said.

“Calculating route…” I thrummed my fingernails on the steering wheel. “Estimated travel duration: nine minutes and forty-seven seconds.”

About half an hour late. Damn! I was about to put my foot on the accelerator and veer out of the parking spot when I realised the car was packed in tight. When Ryan drove into this spot the car moved directly sideways. I turned the steering wheel as far as it would go to the right and ever so lightly pressed my foot down, but it began to move diagonally. Not enough to ease out of the spot.

Bugger! I thrummed my fingernails again, my eyes scanning the car’s interior for a solution. There was a button on the dashboard with an arrow pointing to the right and another to the left. I pressed the right arrow and the car moved by itself out of the parking spot. Awesome!

But it looked like the rest was up to me. I followed the signs around to the other side of the lot, careful not to over-steer the steering wheel, as it seemed to have super-sensitivity. I approached the exit and while I waited for the gate to rise up, I leaned over and wrapped my lips around the straw I’d used before and warm coffee ran down my throat.

“Turn left,” Miss Car said.

Okay, this wasn’t too bad. I was doing it. I was driving the car of the future. Young Grant would be so jealous! I continued to follow the car’s directions, opting against auto-drive along a straight bit of road, preferring to keep control.

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