High Speed Date

At the beginning of the day if you would have told me that I would currently be gripping the handlebar of a car for dear life I would have told you that sounds like the plot for a good story. Situations never seem as scary until you experience them. With every acceleration, I could feel the sole of my shoe pressing deeper into the floor mat of the car.

“I’m going to need you to do exactly as I say if we are going to make out of this alive.” The deep sound of his gravelly voice is muffled under the palpitation of my chest.

Left turn. My body hits the passenger seat door crushing my shoulder. I guess Newton was right, every action does have an equal and opposite reaction. Right turn. Fear builds in my right arm as I hold even tighter onto the handlebar to avoid my weight from shifting me vigorously. My blood is pumping so fast. The road ahead looks blurry through my glossy eyes. The flashes of light become faster as we whip through the city night. I push harder on my seat buckle as if that would make me more secure.

Then a sudden feeling of lightness comes over me; an almost sense of serenity. There is a subtle shift in the balance between gripping tightly and simply holding on. Boom my body jerks forward then back in one swift movement as the car lands and accelerates. With the rush of blood pumping through me, my body doesn’t have enough energy to feel pain. Just fear.

“Julia,” his stern call of my name brings me back to the present. I cannot believe I am in this position. I guess this is what online dating gets you.

“Say it back to me” he yells trying to raise his voice over the rumbling sound of the engine. ‘Say it back to me,’ I think to myself.

“Julia!” He yells again, gripping my arm steadily. His hands were cold. How could he be this calm?

“No! You don’t get to yell, Sean,” I scream back, as my heart races faster. The subtle gloss over my eyes turns into a complete blur. ‘Is this how I am going to die?’ My nose becomes intoxicated with the smell of burning rubber. My head presses into the headrest as though an invisible force was pushing me back.

“You’re right,” he says calmly, “but you need to listen to me, alright?” The car fell silent, leaving only the whispers of wind against the metal exterior as we whip by other vehicles.

“Say it back t--” his words are cut short as he becomes distracted by something in the rearview mirror. He looks back quickly as if to confirm what he is seeing. Returning his eyes to look in front of him, he shifts in his seat, readjusting his seat belt. His one-handed casual grip on the steering wheel is now a firm two-handed grip. This is the first time since we sped out of the mansion driveway that he showed any type of uncertainty. His dark brown eyes focus forward as his jaw tightens. With every flash of light, his skin went from dark to caramel then back. There is a shift in his demeanor from steady to unease.

I am too scared to look back, looking forward is scary enough. I watch as the car is swallowed by the night. Nothing ahead but a dark path with the dim headlights barely lighting the road. Although a calm mountainside looms ahead, we are still driving at a high speed.

Abruptly, a blinding light appears from behind, illuminating the interior features of the car. My brown skin tone looks pale in this light. I try to turn my head to see who is behind us. “Don’t look. Keep your head down” he says in a frantic voice.

“Alright, when I say go, I need you to pull up on the emergency brake like you would yank the chain of a lawnmower,” he says pointing at the lever. I have never started a lawnmower in my life. I stare at the emergency brake for a second. He reaches his hand to mine and places it on the brake.

“When I say so,” he says while lightly stroking my shaky hand with his thumb. He may not know, but that subtle touch gave me the confidence to swallow at least some of my fear. I clear my throat and readjust my seatbelt, then I take multiple deep breaths. ‘When I say so’ replays in my head. My eyes are closed as I envision myself pulling the brake on his trigger words.

“Now!” he yells. Every ounce of energy I have left is thrown into pulling the lever. I don’t know when my other hand left the handlebar, but as the car made a sharp turn both hands are clutching the brake; arm and shoulder muscles locked to steady myself during the precipitous shift. I can hear the wear-and-tear put on the tires as the pressure of the brakes causes a sudden stop, then the immediate acceleration to follow re-engages the car in a forward motion. Almost instantly we are back up to high speeds.

A loud smack is heard in the background. The bright light is no longer on our tail. Our path is once again dimly lit. We cruise rapidly along the side of the mountain, curving swiftly with the road.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he shouts, beating the steering wheel with vigor. He grabs my arm, shaking it in excitement. My eyes have not blinked since I pulled the lever.

“Hey, I’m sorry about tonight, I know you didn't expect all of this when you swiped left,” he says apologetically, but enthusiastically.

“Sorry!” I yell. In my mind, I am beating him senseless. ‘Sorry?’ “You think after all of this, sorry is enough? Mentally, I may never recover from tonight. Who was chasing us? What did you take from the mansion? Why did you rush us out so quickly?” I demand.

“I know sorry won’t fix anything, but we’ll be alright,” he says “Better actually,” he continues under his breath.

Finally, we start to slow down for the first time in almost ninety kilometers. We pull up to a gate where four armed men dressed in dark clothing and masks stand guard. I swallow hard, anxiously awaiting what will happen next.

“Where are we?” I ask in a timid voice. He shushes me and rolls down his window.

“Where--”

“Hello, here to see Mr. Garyson,” he says politely, running his fingers through his dark, curly hair. One man radios someone, while two others inspect the car. I sit very still looking ahead nervously trying not to make eye contact.

“Good to go,” said the man with the radio. The fourth guard opens the gate and we slowly idle down a long driveway.

“When we go inside, I will do all of the talking,” he says. Before I can even clarify what he means, we approach a large building. The front arches resemble that of the white house and there is a water fountain with a statue of a man playing polo in it. We loop around the fountain and park at the bottom of the steps. Sean gets out and before walking around to open my door, I hear him open and close his trunk. He opens my door and holds out his hand to help me out of the car. I almost want to slap it away, but I take it reluctantly. He tucks my hand between his and rests it on his forearm. In his other hand, he has a heavy-duty lockbox. We walk up the stairs. This was how our date night started. Us walking up mansion steps, into a place I didn't know. We are greeted at the door by a butler, who escorts us to a room next to the front hall.

“Bobby!” Sean shouts, pulling away from me to greet the older gentleman. He is large in stature, broad shoulders, slouched back. I can tell by the way he talks he is a habitual cigar smoker, with that droopy lip on one side. Sean puts the lockbox on the desk for the butler to open before embracing Bobby. They lightly pat each other’s backs as they clasp their hands. When they pull away Bobby brings his hands to Sean’s face squeezing it firmly while looking into his eyes.

“I knew you could do it. Who’s the girl? Can she be trusted?” he asks, looking me square in the eye. When he makes eye contact I immediately look down at my shoes.

“This is Julia, my--my girlfriend,” he said distractedly. Girlfriend? I cough-laugh into my elbow. He seemed more focused on the box than answering the question.

“So how much, exactly, is here?” Sean asks eagerly.

“Money isn’t the only currency, son” Bobby replies as he squeezes and shakes Sean’s shoulder. Sean looks like he is going to ask another question, but the sudden pop of the lockbox refocuses his attention. The butler steps aside leaving room for Bobby to open the box.

“Ha! No way.” Sean grabs his face in dismay, dragging his features downwards. “No way!” He exclaims, holding his hands on his head, walking in circles. He bends over gripping his knees and begins to laugh.

“Some of the finest! Would you like some?” Bobby asks, walking towards the bar on the far side of his office.

“You know we almost died for this, right?” Sean says angrily. I don’t even know how to feel. I am still partially paralyzed from the car ride here. Bobby walks back over to his desk with three highball glasses.

“Can you believe this?” Sean asks looking, wide-eyed, in my direction. “All of this for one damn bottle of Merlot!” Sean kicks the desk in frustration. “Where is the money, Bobby?”

Bobby smugly proceeds to open the bottle of wine and pours some into each of the three glasses, handing one to me, which I graciously accept. After a night like tonight, I deserve this. He offers one to Sean, who stares at the glass for a long time before taking it from Bobby’s hand. Sean leans back on the desk and throws the entire glass back like a shot, taking all the wine down in one big gulp. He then gasps for air and wipes his mouth slowly before slamming the glass down next to him.

“Let’s go, Julia,” he says austerely, marching out in anger. “What a waste” he yells just as he exits the office. I quickly walked out after him. Upon reaching the office doorway I realize I still have the glass of wine so I turn to give it back.

“No, no, that’s for you, enjoy the wine,” Bobby says with a half smile.

I meet Sean in his car, forehead resting on the steering wheel in defeat. Shoulders slouched, hand lazily gripping at ten and two. What a night we had, I was just happy I made it out alive.

“You know what, as first dates go, this could have ended a lot worse,” I say jokingly. He seems exhausted; I know I am. He starts the car and drives away. After about twenty minutes of driving, we park at the top of a hill overlooking the city. He cuts the engine and sits for a second.

“I would love to give this first date a second try if you would allow me.” He says. I looked down at the glass of red Merlot and took a sip before holding it out for his taking.

“Um, we’ll see about that,” I say with a fatigued smile. He took the glass and we shared a weary giggle. As night turns into dawn, any worry or fear I had disappeared with the stars. A night to remember, or maybe to forget.