chapter eighteen

word count: 533

Cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his heart pumped like a rock concert, guitars about to be smashed in a blazing finale. Tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets of pain. Stan clutched the steering wheel and hit the gas, swerving through lines of traffic like a madman, zigzagging from lane to lane.

He wanted to be free, free of this whole mess. The baby, Jessica. All this because he wanted a good lay once in a while. He couldn't help it, could use some right now, calm him down. He could high tail it up to the "hill" and get one of those black whores. Shiny black skin, and they were never skinny. Well, the hardcore junkies were, but he'd pick a good one. Girls hanging out of windows, "Ten dollars, come on in!" Blow jobs were cheaper. Ha! Poor man's sex. He could hear the chorus of eager voices right now in his head. He went there all the time, before he met Jessica. Then she became a free piece and closer to home. A movement in the rear view jarred him back to reality. A black dot of a car turning the corner with him. He was positive he first saw that black saturn blocks ago. He was being tailed. He gunned it.

The black car weaved in and out of traffic following his same pattern, slower and with more ease, at a distance, but it mimicked his every move. What the hell? Was it a cop? Had they fingered him in Jessica's murder? Impossible. He'd dumped the car. DNA! A cold blade of fear stabbed him. NO, wait, He was clean. They didn't have any samples. He'd never been booked.

"Stay calm," he whispered. "We can deal with this." He turned down an alley and watched to see if the car followed. It did. Driving slowly down cobblestone streets, honking to clear ghetto kids playing, he watched the black saturn a couple blocks behind following his lead. The road finally broke free of neighborhood streets and led to an empty lot, abandoned by an old factory years ago along the river's edge. He jumped out of his car and stood to meet the other man. He waited. The saturn had paused at the edge of the lot. He spied the guy behind the wheel of the saturn, a guy, fierce looking, a force to be reckoned with. Didn't matter. He was pumped. Ready for anything.

The other guy looked at him from the safety of his car, then with frantic movements started a retreat. Stan would have none of it. Racing to the car, he grabbed hold of the driver side door and yanked it open. The startled driver hit the gas, but he wasn't fast enough. Stan dragged him out and threw him to the ground. He kicked him. He pounded his foot into the guy's head til blood ran onto the street. Stan couldn't hear his screams, wails of protest that echoed through the empty lot. The voices in his own head were louder. "Kill him. Kill him before he kills you."