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Chapter 7: Tommy remembers
Late for my flight.
Holding the wheel of the rental way too tight.
It was hot. The AC barely able to keep up. Damn car had been sitting through the midday sun. Seat was still hot. Shirt stuck to my back with sweat.
Leaning forward, too separate my shirt from the hot vinyl. Or was it leather, I wondered idly?
Trying to get some AC onto my dripping back.
Over the limit by at least 20.
The meeting had been a disaster. It seemed as though everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.
“Shit.” I pounded the wheel in disgust at myself.
The only good part was that I was heading home a day early.
Maybe if I’d spent a bit more time studying the client, things would have gone better. But, no, thinking clearer now, “not knowing the most basic stuff about them had killed me. I knew better.”
A glance at the speedo, “shit, I’m hitting a hundred. Didn’t think that possible.”
I back off a bit as I pass a semi and notice he’s on his radio and wonder if he’s calling me in. “Shit.”
I’m still well over the limit. Gripped in my path to self-destruction. Passing cars like they’re standing still.
