Showing posts with label Melanie Avila. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Melanie Avila. Show all posts

Monday, February 8, 2010

Road Rage, by Melanie Avila

Janet stomped on the accelerator. The guardrail curved with the road, the scratched metal glinting in the bright sun and reminding her to take it easy. She eased off the pedal. Slightly.

Bruce didn't know what he was talking about. He’d walked in there with his shoulders back and that damned cocky expression plastered across his face, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly when she announced her decision.

Her decision. Not his. Since when did he care anyway? He always did what he wanted, when he wanted, and if it somehow worked its way into agreeing with her plans, great. If not, screw her.

Her fingers twitched at her jeans pocket. Maybe she should call—

A sleek blue car slung out from behind her and tried to pass on her left. “Screw you,” she muttered, and drifted over the center line. She tried to check over her shoulder but the seatbelt dug into her ribcage and kept her flattened against the vinyl seat.

The car fell back and her gaze settled on the rickety bridge that spanned the road. Two children leaned over the railing and waved as she passed, but her attention was locked on the smooth blacktop.

Bruce thought he was so smart. What? He's a guy so he automatically knows everything? Heaven forbid she ever know what she was talking about, and forget her ever being right. If it was up to him she’d hand all decisions over to him and become the fifties housewife he dreamed about.

As if.

The sun slid behind a clump of trees, then blinded her as she rounded the next curve. She nearly slammed into the backend of rusty green car that clung to the center line.

"Move it!" she hollered, blurring past the car and flipping the bird over her shoulder.

She couldn’t let him be right. Not that it would make any difference after that day, but just once… She flexed her fingers against the steering wheel, the grooved metal cool against her skin.

Not today. Today he was wrong.

Her foot pounded the slim pedal to the floor and she hurtled past the black and white checkered flag.

She screeched on the brakes, climbed out of the car, and tossed the pink helmet to the smiling attendant. A smirk danced on her lips as Bruce pulled to a stop alongside her. "I told you the red one was faster."