Ricochet

Testosterone

Jaimie woke up as usual. He wondered if he'll be able to sleep like a normal person anytime soon. His breath was heavy and was sweaty in an air-conditioned room. Judy observed that Jaimie felt ghastly and asked if he was okay.

"It's fine. Don't let it bother you," he replied. However, the concern in her face was something which he appreciated.

"You are going insane. This is nuts. You got to get your head checked." Judy said while struggling to pull her sheets off. Just as she found her balance, she got out of the bed and headed into the washroom while saying "Damn it. You know I can't stay here. It is already getting late. I have a busy day ahead."

He replied "Don't go driving around like a lunatic now. You are not sober enough to make it."

"As if you are" she replied smiling.

"Good thing that your craziness affects only your sleep or it would be such a waste of time."

Jaimie laughed. "You know you can bet on that."

She continued "Seriously. If something's up, just try to let me know... I'm not here just to recommend a free massage."

He smiled. He tried to stop her as she was about to leave the door.

"I'll get a cab or something... I wasn't born yesterday. I can manage." she said finally and left.

He wasn't sure what was going on between them but he wasn't complaining. He needed it. And of course, she was beautiful.

Ever since the day he had that massage, his life had fallen lower than he thought was possible. Nightmares about the black sedan incident and the bloody street brawl developed new scenes. He could hear in his sleep the muffled scream of a pale faced woman who was blindfolded calling out for help in a desperate attempt to survive. He could feel her asphyxiate as she was handcuffed to the door handle and choke-pressed to the car seat.

That started as a road-rage. He was fully loaded after a night at the club and had given up on driving. He managed to park the car somewhere before he had blacked out. He had just come to his senses, contemplating about life when there was a thud as a black sedan zoomed past him, shattering his side mirror.

Granted, he was quite close to the middle of the road rather than to the side. But it was a remote, low-traffic area and the sedan dented his pride more than the car.

He was a man of the streets. He knew the way around town better than anybody else. He had been in petty fights throughout his life. This could be dealt with after the fact.

Nobody could get away after ramming Jaimie's car. Mirror for mirror.

He took a shortcut to the next main street, going at full throttle. After a while the black sedan came into view. As the road was empty save for these two in early part of the day, he was able to close the gap considerably until he came level to level. Then he had his weapon of choice, the half-filled spare bottles of alcohol he had in the car. "Slow down motherfucker. We need to talk" he yelled as he hurled one at the Sedan while trying to maneuver the car. The bottle landed on the Sedan's door splattering its contents on the dark tinted glass and the glass pieces rebounded some of it towards his car.

"Shit..." he cursed as he raised the tinted glass on his side still trying to keep pace. He weighed his options. He didn't like this car. Airbags were working. He had his seatbelt on. He had a hockey club with him. A pocket-knife. He shook his head to not get carried away. Just as he reached the level of tail-lights of the sedan, he saw or heard shots with one bullet entering through the front glass missing him by a distance he didn't want to measure.

His bravado and smugness turned into fear and pure panic as death stared at him. He involuntarily accelerated and rammed against the side of the sedan which was much bulkier than his.