Ch. 34 - The breaking news

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Sixty miles per hour. Sixty-five.

The muscles in his jaw and neck contract as he feels the familiar surge of adrenaline. There are more curves than straight-aways, now, full of guard rails and signs full of yellow arrows marking steeper drop offs. The roar of the bike is louder, chattering his teeth and vibrating his palms. He continues to roll the throttle while the pressure begins to build in his ears from the elevation. He blows past a sign with a curvy black line, thirty-five miles per hour written underneath. The trees on either side thicken as he takes a blind curve, leaning his bike, his front wheel crossing over the yellow line.

BEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!

A corvette appears suddenly around the curve, slamming on the horn, snapping him into focus as he swerves, overcorrecting and coming close to swiping another car backing out of a driveway on the other side. His heart pounding in his ears, he can barely hear the driver yelling at him.

"FUUUCK!!" he screams, easing off the throttle as he comes up on signs showing hair pin turns and a further decrease in speed limit.

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Sandra skips down the stairs that morning after completing her run on the treadmill, still clad in her running pants and sports bra. She walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of orange juice and setting it on the counter. Gesine is in the living room, watching TV.

"Breaking News: Actor Jude Molinari collapsed in the early hours of this morning at the age of twenty-six. It happened outside the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, a trendy West Hollywood nightclub. He was rushed to Cedar-Sinai Hospital where hospital officials say he was pronounced dead..."

She walks into the living room to see Gesine crouched on the sofa, remote in hand, arm outstretched, resting on her knees. She's staring intently at the screen.

"At this point in time the exact cause of death is still under investigation..."

"What are you watching?" Sandra asks her sister, who initially doesn't acknowledge her presence.

"Los Angeles homicide detectives say an autopsy will take place in the next few days and should reveal what caused the actor's death..."

"Gesine. What is this?"

"What?" Gesine whips her head in Sandra's direction, then back, abruptly turning the television off.

Sandra takes a couple steps toward Gesine, leaning in, pointing at the television. "What was that? Why'd you turn it off like that?"

Her feet now firmly planted on the ground, Gesine let out a long breath, her shoulders slumped. "Sandy, sit down for a minute," she urged, patting the seat on the couch beside her.

"I don't need to sit," Sandra's voice is lower and firm. "What was that?" she repeats her question.

The skin on Gesine's neck and chest redden as she begins to speak, carefully choosing her words. "Sandy," she pauses for another breath, "something happened. Something happened to Jude Molinari last night."

Sandra's color fades as she turns away from Gesine, covering her mouth, before quietly asking, "Is he hurt? How bad?"

"Sandy, please. Please sit down."

Sandra crosses her arms and glares at her sister, baring her teeth between tight lips. "I said, how bad is it, Gesine?!?"

Gesine's voice cracks. "It's bad."

Sandra's falls to the floor, her legs crumbling underneath her like a house of cards. With her knees hugged into her body, she starts rocking. "Is he," she strangles a lump in her throat, her eyes pleading, "is he okay?" 

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