Page 173 of Deliverance

Problem is, I can’t seem to stop thinking about this piece of shit.

He’s out there somewhere.

And he's a threat.

And he needs to be eliminated.

I just don’t know how. Not yet, anyway.

A throat clears above my shoulder. “Would you like anything else?”

I lift my face from the envelope and meet the waitress’s gaze. “Just the check, please.”

“Sure.” She smiles and walks off.

Ten minutes later, I’m driving down the PCH. All the info Jensen got me is stuffed into the glove box because I’m not sure what to do with it. The rain has gotten lighter. Only a drizzle now, staining my windshield and giving the wipers something to do. The clouds have parted and the sun spills over the road and the hills and the buildings.

I turn left at the intersection, unsure of where exactly I’m going. My restlessness changes to dread, seeping through me like acid.

Ahead in the distance, a tall, silver-hued car dealership banner flaps in the wind and without giving it much thought, I steer my Jeep into the lot and park it in one of the empty spots.

A lanky dude in a navy suit is immediately at my heels. “How are you doing, boss?”

I survey the sea of cars in front of me and start walking, having not the slightest idea of why I’m here and what I want.

The salesman’s name is Yuri and he's a funny fellow armed with a dozen healthy jokes, which I appreciate since they lighten my mood a little after the shitshow of a meeting I had with Jensen.

“This one’s a classic beauty. Has your name written all over it,” he says with a knowing smile when I stop in front of a newer model, dragging my gaze across its sparkling body. He then starts spitting out the specs, which I already know and don’t care to hear again, but for some reason, I don’t stop him.

I owned a Lexus once. The ride was sleek, sharp, and a little too simple for me. I swapped it for a Lamborghini a couple of years later, the same one I drove off the freeway a few months ago and never bothered to replace.

“This is a V8,” Yuri keeps on listing various reasons why this particular car would be a great fit, his words not reaching me, however.

My mind is running wild in millions of different directions with no destination set out.

“How about a test drive?” I ask absently.

“Absolutely.” He beams and retreats to grab the keys, and once he returns with them and we’re tucked inside, we pull the car onto the road.

Rolling down the windows to feel the air on my skin, I do a few loops around the block, my hand glued to the gear shift, my heart beating double-time.

The cool wind tousles my hair while we zip past rain-dusted palm trees, hurrying pedestrians, and a string of buildings. The interior of the Lexus smells of pine and…realized dreams. Just not mine. And truth be told, I’ve missed the feel of the raw power running up my arm as I shift the gears and the sound of the supreme engine wraps me into the centrifuge of its noise. However, when we return and I climb out of the vehicle, nothing happens. There’s no pull. No overwhelming need to own this shiny new toy.

Honestly, the moment I turn around, I forget what color it is.

It’s as if the last twenty minutes were some weird vision my imagination cooked up. A kind of dream you forget the moment you wake up.

“What do you think, boss?” Yuri asks, expression hopeful, hands balled in front of his chest.

I stare to the opposite side of the lot where the more compact models are lined up in a neat row. There’s one, thunder gray, its roof invitingly down, swollen front glimmering in the sun, and I imagine Drew lounging in the leather seat with her booted feet on the dashboard as we fly down the PCH.

I imagine her laughing.

I imagine her skirt flowing in the wind.

I imagine some obscure band she’s picked blasting from the speakers.

“That an automatic?” I gesture at the car.

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