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First Taste of Bacardi

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The windows were rolled up and it was hot in the car. She couldn’t even bear the heat
long enough to roll the windows down; Anna needed air! She opened the door and
jumped out of the car and stood in the middle of the street on the unfamiliar road. Right
away the cool night air felt good on her face, bare arms, and legs and she felt better
immediately. She glanced around, thinking how she could have gotten so twisted up,
just by trying to get back to the freeway. Where in the fuck am I at?
A few occasional vehicles went by on the cross street that went all the way through, but
not the street that Anna was on. Thanks to the dead-end on the other side of the light, it
wasn’t getting any traffic at all; except the one vehicle she nearly hit. The quiet night
amplified the hissing noise Anna was hearing. As she cocked her head and listened
intently, Anna realized that the noise was coming from her car. She went to the front of
her Chevy Lumina, where the noise appeared to be coming from.
Anna’s right front tire had apparently run over something in the street. The tire was
leaking air, but she couldn’t tell how much or how quickly. “DAMMIT!!!” Anna screamed
into the night. "Just what I need in the middle of the night – in the middle of nowhere! A
fucking flat!" Anna didn’t even start considering who she should try and reach on her
cell phone. Instead, she began to have a meltdown right where she stood. “I fucking
don’t believe this! I fucking don’t believe this!” was all she could scream. Either no one
in the large expensive homes could hear her, or no one seemed to care that a mad
woman was in the middle of the street screaming at night. Whatever the case, no one
came outside; Anna didn’t even see one light come on nearby as a result.
She had managed to collect herself slightly by the time the van she had almost ran into
had turned around and come back. He pulled up behind her and saw Anna attempting
to examine her leaking tire. That’s when the stranger parked his own vehicle and got
out.
The Other Driver
The driver was an emergency locksmith that most people knew as Smitty. Smitty had
safely executed a right turn, after Anna’s failed attempt at a sudden lane change.
Noticing that the car that nearly hit him, hadn’t moved or continued on its way, he had
gone around the block and come back to make sure she was okay. He was especially
curious, because Smitty had noticed Anna several blocks back after allowing her to
pass.
He had been turning onto the street, away from the house he had just left. Smitty had
finished handling a vehicle lockout for a guy he knew name Jonathan. He had known
Jonathan for several years. Just like most dudes who come up and have money to
throw around, Jonathan had thrown plenty of business Smitty’s way. He was a
cokehead that threw freaky parties and he was always getting locked out of somewhere.
Tonight, it had been his Jag.
 
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