Page 48 of Velvet and Valor
“Not much further,” he says, his eyes flicking over to me. He twists his torso around until he can more easily look into the back seat. “Man, you’re gorgeous. You got a boyfriend, babygirl?”
“Oh, I do,” I say, batting my eyes dramatically, “but you’re such a man that I’m totally going to leave him to hook up with you.”
The fake cop in the driver seat laughs. Hard. I get the inkling that despite being partners, they don’t like each other much.
“Hey man, fuck you,” the fake cop in the passenger seat says. I’m starting to differentiate them now. At first all I saw was uniforms, badges, and guns. Now I can see that the Casanova inthe passenger seat is a bit on the portly side, with some white sprinkled into his porn mustache. The driver is closer in size and build to Axel, but with obviously steroid-infused biceps–maybe even implants.
Already, my mind wants to buzz with a script idea: failed bodybuilder turns to crime. Then I remember they just did that a few years ago with Dwayne Johnson. Then I remember I’m in terrible danger and supposed to be distracting the bad guys while Axel escapes the handcuffs. How is he doing that, anyway?
“Ah, you couldn’t afford this,” the driver says.
“Yeah, you strike me as the type to sell your ass,” the portly one says. “To other men.”
“Geez, man, it’s not 1955 anymore,” says the driver. “Don’t you think your attitudes are a little outdated? Try not to ‘other’ people when you’re trying to be clever.”
“Yeah? Well, try not to, try not to…” the portly one sputters. Then his eyes glow like the fourth of July. “Try not to sell your ass to my foot!”
Awkward silence descends on the vehicle. I break it with laughter.
“Wow, that was pure cringe. You want another take?” I ask playfully.
The portly cop gives me a truly withering glare. I shrink back a little bit in spite of my earlier bravado. I can see it in his eyes. If he can get away with it, this man is going to kill me.
“Hey,” the driver says. “Check on the army guy. He’s been quiet for a long time.”
I had almost forgotten Axel. I look over and see him laying back, his head lolled to the side. His eyes are rolled back so only the whites show, and a line of foam dribbles down his face.
“Axel!” I scream.
“He don’t look so hot,” the portly cop says.
“Shit.” The driver mutters. He puts on the brakes and starts glancing to the right. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What are you doing?” the portly cop demands.
“Looking for a place to pull over,” the driver replies.
“What the fuck for? The girl’s the important one, right?”
“You know we’re supposed to bring them both in, alive.”
“Axel!” I grab his slack arm with my cuffed hands as best I can. “Axel, wake up!”
Is he faking this? He has to be…but what if he’s not? I don’t know everything about his history. What if he had a traumatic brain injury in the army and never told me? What if this is a seizure or something worse?
“I think he’s really in trouble,” I say, startled by the tremor in my voice. Have I really come to care for this man in so short a time?
The SUV sends up a curtain of gravel behind us as it pulls off the main road. The driver quickly parks around a slight bend in the gravel trail and throws the truck in park.
“What the Hell are you so scared of?” the portly one asks. “Don’t tell me you believe all those stories about Ming Xa.”
“Man, you weren’t here last year when they caught two westerners snitching on the organization. Ming Xa made them fight to the death with dull knives, then the winner had to eat the loser.”
The portly one’s jaw falls open.
“Will you guys shut up and hurry?” I sputter.
Something nudges my knee. I look over at Axel, but he remains zombified. Did he just try and give me a signal he’s okay? Or is he just having a spasm?
