by Nick Braker
A bit later Greg had called. He pushed hard not to go but Asher would not relent. It took more veiled threats and even a subtle hint of one particularly nasty event to keep Greg on track. He eventually caved but it was clear from the background voice that his wife was livid. Asher hated himself for pushing his friend so hard but he was certain their marriage would survive this.
“Dude, you don’t know what you’ve done,” Greg had said.
While Asher had hoped to leave on Sunday, both Weston and Greg could not work it out, so he cut them some slack and agreed to a Monday departure. He asked that they all meet him at his apartment on the east side of town. As always, his friends arrived at different times. As usual, Greg was there first and on time. The other two rolled in about fifteen minutes later. They loaded their duffel bags and a cooler full of iced beer, which Brandon had made sure to bring, into Asher’s Camaro. Brandon took shotgun with Weston behind Asher and Greg behind Brandon. His Camaro was cramped, especially in the back seat but no one complained. It was a decent ride and, being new, it was reliable. He took the highway north for a bit, then headed east on the interstate.
Their trip had begun and he was determined to make the most of it. Greg appeared the least enthusiastic but at least he was going. He wore a pair of jeans that looked brand new. A dark red dress shirt accented the look. Both pieces of clothing were neatly pressed. Greg was known for his manicured look and perfectly combed hair. It seemed he always went to great lengths to look his best, though Asher thought Greg’s dark brown eyes and rugged looks were already enough to make him attractive to the ladies.
Asher thought about his own appearance and that he too was gifted in many ways aesthetically, but Greg’s shy demeanor had always been a huge strike against him with the opposite sex. Greg was shy in direct proportion to the beauty of any female he met. On the other hand, Asher liked the challenge of making a romantic connection, but he would never give his heart away again. It was already taken.
Intellectually, Greg was his equal and it was that side of him Asher liked most, although recently, Asher wondered if he could keep up with Greg. Something had changed in him.
Physically, Asher excelled at almost everything he did. He loved to lift weights and years of anaerobic and aerobic workouts had packed on some beefy muscle and endurance. He was just over six feet tall and he seemed to attract the opposite sex more than most. He had analyzed it over the years and concluded it was charisma and attitude, along with his looks and physique, which were irresistible. He used them to their fullest, as he loved what he called the hunt. If he was interested in a woman, most really didn’t have a chance. Beth was the exception and he had given it up for her. She meant everything to him. She still did even today. His insides twisted and the pain of loss flared anew. He took a calming breath, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel and forcing his thoughts back to the trip.
“Asher, you okay?” Greg asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Sun got in my eyes,” he lied.
Greg let it go.
“Asher’s fine, bruthahs,” Brandon said, slapping Asher’s shoulder. “It’s a road trip, so let’s rock it.”
Brandon was stoked out of his mind about the trip. He wore jeans too but, unlike Greg, they were faded and, Brandon would argue, comfortable. He wore a tank top to intentionally show off his guns. His jeans, Converses and tank top were his signature gear. Brandon had several attributes going in his favor. His athletic build and speed were his forte. He had a knack for any sport he played and Asher always struggled when they played against each other. It really bothered Asher to lose but his interest in sports was secondary when compared to his interest in the opposite sex, so he didn’t lose any sleep over it. Besides, when he wanted to win, it was easy to mess with Brandon mentally and knock him off his game - a skill he was quite adept with and Brandon usually lost when he applied it. Asher had to admit to himself that, when it came to physical skills, Brandon had the advantage; however; he couldn’t hold a candle to him or Greg intellectually.
Brandon kept looking back at the cooler. He was ready to start in on the beer but Greg had insisted that they at least not break the law before getting out of the state. All of them were surprised when Brandon yelled ‘182’. Brandon was also the craziest of the bunch.
“What was that?” Asher asked.
“Nothing,” Brandon said.
About an hour into the trip, traffic had started to slow down.
“100” Brandon said, out of the blue.
“Guys,” Asher said, ignoring him. “I’m going to try to work through this traffic so hang on.”
With that, he changed lanes four times and passed several cars that were running behind a slow-moving Winnebago. Asher didn’t even look at the driver when he flew by at just over 90 MPH. The car’s acceleration was smooth and, in just a few seconds, he cleared some of the traffic slowing them down. He got some hoots from his friends but then things settled down as the reality of the long trip ahead of them sank in. The excitement had started to burn out and the road that laid ahead of them didn’t change much. It just kept going.
His mind focused on watching for tiny obstacles in the road as he didn’t want to incur any damage to his car. Since he was running behind a large truck hauling timber, his fear of debris hitting his car magnified. He was about to slow down when Weston tapped him on the shoulder to point out a black Super Sport about a quarter mile further up the interstate. It took Asher a second to focus on the car. It took only a few more seconds for Asher to catch that Weston wasn’t pointing at the car but the four women inside it. He looked back at Weston and smiled, giving him a knowing nod. He punched it, as he intended to try to catch up with them, swiftly overtaking the timber truck. He heard a loud snap and then another as the chains holding the huge logs broke in succession. Several of the logs rolled off to the left of the truck and splintered into several pieces, putting gaping holes into the pavement. One of the logs hit the interstate on its end, coming to an abrupt stop and then, with a slingshot effect, fired backward toward where Asher would have been following. Two cars behind his were hit by the crushing logs and one of the cars smashed into a fallen log, coming to a grizzly stop. They could hear the sounds of many tires squealing and glass breaking behind them. They had missed being crushed or speared by less than ten seconds. They watched as the truck driver hit the brakes and begin pulling over to assess the destruction.
“Wow, we just missed getting delayed for hours behind that wreckage,” Asher said.
Greg blinked several times, trying to focus on Asher’s face.
“Dude, we just missed getting killed--”
Asher ignored him, staring back at Weston in his rear-view mirror.
“Shouldn’t we stop?” Greg asked.
“Nah, nothing we can do,” Asher said, keeping his eyes intently on Weston.
“Dude? Are you serious? We should stop to help,” Greg insisted.
“Yeah, I am. Tell me, what can we do? Anyone here a doctor? Hell, does anyone even know CPR?” Asher asked. “Okay, who wants to stop?” he said, pointing at Brandon with a questioning look. “How about you, Dr. Welby?”
He pointed at Weston next.
“Are you ready to step up or do you just play a doctor on TV?”
Both Brandon and Weston gestured to keep going.
“Jerks,” Greg said.
“Dude, look back. There are several cars pulling over already. One of them will get help and someone will know how to help more than we could. Let’s leave the incident for what it is.”
Asher focused back to Weston. Weston, like the others, was well-rounded physically and mentally but Weston was also lucky. Asher didn’t believe it was anything more than perception combined with physical skill, though Weston did seem to have more of it.
The situation didn’t matter, Weston always came through. About four months ago he bowled a 298 but had never played the game before. There were hundreds of stories like these in Weston’s life. Asher believ
ed Weston was simply good under pressure. Today, however, seemed extreme, even for him. Weston must have seen the girls drive by earlier and simply chosen that moment, by chance, to tell him. If Weston hadn’t pointed out the Super Sport, they could all be dead right now. He gave Weston a nod of thanks in the rear-view mirror.
The Super Sport was getting away and Asher was willing to bet the car would be a very interesting encounter. He punched it more and, in just under a minute, managed to catch up to them. The car sparkled in the nearly noonday sun, indicating a recent wax job and immaculate cleaning. Asher loved fast cars but overshadowing that was his interest in the girls inside. He wanted to do the talking but if he pulled up to them on their left, Brandon would naturally be the one to speak. He had a plan. He drove past them and changed lanes, getting in front of them. He slowed the Camaro down just a bit and, just as he expected, the driver moved over into the passing lane. She stepped on the gas, while Asher timed it so he stayed with her. He scanned each woman in succession. The girl riding shotgun was brunette with stunning features. He loved the way her red, short-sleeved shirt perfectly matched both her makeup and the red ponytail tie she had in her hair. The driver was blond with dark red lipstick and a hot pink, loose-fitting shirt. She was gorgeous too but she focused on the road and not him, so he moved to the next one. The girl behind the driver leaned forward into the front seat, waving at him. She had a dark tan and sandy brown hair. She was so far forward into the front seat, her bra, which was pink with light blue polka dots, could be seen under the low-hanging top. It struggled to restrain her full breasts and, Asher thought, she knew it. The last girl was also obviously outgoing, as she was leaning up and had her right arm hanging out the front window waving at them. She wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses covering an exquisitely flawless face. She was also brunette but had red highlights. The effect of her beauty surprised him but he didn’t show it.
Damn, that is the one.
She looked right at him and smiled. The windows on both cars were already down, so he yelled over to her.
“Isn’t this the part where I deliver an incredibly funny pick-up line and you laugh with me while coming back with an extremely intelligent response,” Asher said.
Both cars slowed down, Asher deftly matching the Super Sports deceleration. He continued.
“I then introduce myself and the crew to you, you do the same, and we hit it off spectacularly well, with me asking you if you’d like to have lunch?”
He again adjusted his speed to keep pace with the other driver who was intently focusing on the road.
“I was thinking,” he continued. “How about we skip all that and just move to hitting it off over lunch at the next exit?”
Asher read her reaction and knew he had her. She laughed, as did the other girls. They looked at each other very briefly and the one he had targeted yelled back at him.
“You catch us at the next exit, at the restaurant we pick out, and you can buy our lunch as we hit it off spectacularly well.”
Asher liked this one even more. The words stunning and smart came to mind. He nodded back just in time to hear the driver floor it. The Super Sport took off as the turbo whined with power and the car exploded forward down the interstate. Asher didn’t even look at his friends. It didn’t matter if they wanted to or not, he was going to catch those girls as his friends needed some uplifting after the long drive and the near miss. The diversion could be just the ticket. He down-shifted to third, hitting 80, and then to fourth, as the car responded to his control. The Super Sport was fast and it had power. The car must have been modified, although, stock, it was already a monster. They took the exit ahead just as he crested the hill. The driver was either crazy or damn good because she was easily doing 110. He didn’t care, it was easy to keep up with them. Brandon leaned back enjoying the ride without fear. Weston held on, white knuckled, looking around for an exit while checking his seatbelt. Greg was taking a deep breath and looking at Asher in the rear view mirror getting more upset with every MPH increase. He took the exit and noticed the girls had pulled into a restaurant parking lot right off the interstate. Brandon pointed them out, as if Asher needed directions.
“I got it, man. They aren’t getting away,” he replied. “Nor do they want to,” he said quietly to himself.
He pulled the Camaro into the lot and parked near the road. It was a habit of his since getting his new car. Getting out, he noticed they had already gone in.
“Hey guys, go on in,” Asher said, pointing toward the door. “I have something to check out first.”
Greg gave him a quizzical look but he rubbed his stomach and shrugged. They piled out and headed inside. Asher walked over to the back of the Super Sport, checking the tags.
Massachusetts plates.
Moving around further, he focused on the interior of the car, mainly where she was sitting. He spied a sun visor with the letters M-I-T written on it. It didn’t look new but it was in good shape. The mirror had a menagerie of trinkets hanging from it, including the three letters P-D-D. That probably wasn’t going to help him with her but he’d keep it in mind just in case it came up. He peered into the rear window and spied a book she must have placed there. He hoped it was hers, as it was on the correct side of the car. It was a dog-eared paperback. From the look of it, she had read about three-quarters of the book since the pages were ruffled to that point. He could just make out the title through the glare of the sun on the window, Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina.
I got her.
Asher entered the restaurant, catching the seven of them sitting down at the table. A waiter had pushed two tables together near the middle of the room. Seated around the table from the far left side, going clockwise, were the driver, the sandy brown-haired girl, the brunette, and then her on the end. Brandon sat on the far side, opposite the driver as he liked blonds.
Greg struggled with indecision and was obviously nervous. He had already pulled off his wedding ring. Greg wouldn’t cheat on his wife but he also knew he wasn’t going to raise any suspicion for the rest of them. Greg sat next to Brandon, opposite the sandy brown-haired girl. As he walked up, Asher had to move quickly to intercept Weston, since he was about to sit across from the one he had his sights on. It would be obvious but that would go in his favor. It would hurt Weston in the other girl’s eyes but that was just collateral damage. He caught up to Weston and smiled at him.
“Dude, that seat has crumbs. Wouldn’t you prefer to sit there instead?” he said, while dusting the seat across from her.
Weston laughed looking at Asher’s target and nodded. Weston adjusted quickly and sat across from the other brunette who had ridden shotgun. Asher tuned out the conversations around him and focused on her.
“Okay, cheesy line incoming,” Asher said.
“Do I come here often?” she interrupted.
He rolled with the punch, “I’m sure you don’t but I’ll bite, do you?”
“Never been here before but it looks like it has potential,” she smiled.
Her face lit up when she did. She was a beauty. The waitress, who was taking their drink orders, distracted him. One of her customers was hailing her and at the same time a man rushed to the restroom who had just entered the restaurant.
Focus.
Her eyes were hazel with a touch of blue near the outer edges. Her lipstick complemented them perfectly but it was the intelligence behind them that intrigued him now. While maintaining eye contact with her, he assessed the rest of her peripherally. She wore a bright yellow top that came down to her belly button. It was tight fitting with frilly sleeves. He was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her jeans took over a bit below her naval and hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She was a fantastic beauty and he guessed she was just shy of twenty.
“Looks are important but it’s what comes out of the kitchen that matters most,” he replied.
“Interesting,” she said, gazing into his eyes while leaning in toward him. “So what if the food were the best
you’ve ever tasted but the atmosphere was sub-par?”
“Personally, I’d have to keep looking for the right restaurant. One that had it all... atmosphere, taste, variety, service.”
“And if you found it?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t need to go anywhere else then, ever,” Asher said.
Touchdown, and the crowd goes wild.
“Is this the part where you introduce yourself? Obviously, you’ve just delivered the funny line,” she replied coyly.
Sacked. Time to take a stronger offense.
He gazed deeper into her eyes, making sure she returned the look. He started to tell her his name but was momentarily distracted. The man from the restroom was leaving in a hurry, heading out the front door. He regrouped and continued.
“My name is Asher, and yours? No wait, let me guess,” he paused dramatically and said, “’He could not be mistaken. There were no other eyes like those in the world. There was only one creature in the world who could concentrate for him all the brightness and meaning of life. It was she. It was... Kitty?’”
She leaned back in her seat, her mouth dropping open, looking impressed. Asher had just thrown a long, bullet pass for a first down and he could see her defense was scrambling to recover.
“Actually, my name is Candice,” her voice wavered just above a whisper, as she leaned forward again, closer now than before. Her interest in him now was palpable, as her breathing quickened and her cheeks flushed.
Game over.
“Well,” she replied. “’I see a man who has serious intentions, that’s Levin; and I see a peacock, like this featherhead, who’s only amusing himself.’ Which is it?”