a million golden pieces

the glowing line of amber tail lights tapered off into the distance of the morning smog, reminding me of a cheap string of red christmas lights that refused to blink in proper sequence. i put the car into park and checked my watch again, “8:14 am…fuck.” the man beside me in the gold lexus sedan was laughing with someone on his cell phone again. “would you take a look at this bastard over here.” i thought shaking my head. probably telling some old ivy league college buddy about the “monster deal” he had just closed or the detailed graphic techniques of the beauty he had brought home the previous night from some exclusive uptown loft with a strict dress code and dimly lit leathered seating. “guy probably drinks manhattans with double cherries.” i huffed under my breath. a white van caught my eye in the rearview mirror as it slowly crept up along the emergency lane. “who the hell does this guy think he is?” i thought as i turned to look out the back window. the van had no visible markings and ominous blacked out windows. the van rolled to a stop next to the man on the cell phone and he turned as if to tell his old buddy, “catch you later sport, i have some asshole pulling up next to me.” four men exited the van wearing what seemed to be black s.w.a.t. style combat gear and carried automatic weapons held tightly at the hip. “holy…fucking…shit” i whispered to myself as the men approached the lexus. one of the men tapped his barrel on the driver’s window and waved him out of the vehicle with his weapon. the man inside the car lowered his window three inches and said something through the small opening shaking his head, which seemed to only anger the man who repeated to tap on the glass, only this time much harder, to the point i thought the glass would surely explode into a million pieces. the man hesitated, then reluctantly opened the door and got out, raising his hands at shoulder’s height and mumbled something in defiant protest as the second man in the ski mask shoved him several times hard in the back, causing him to skip a step and stumple to the edge of the highway. i began to roll down my window so i could hear what was being said as the sudden rapid popping of gunfire threw the man violently against the sedan, where he slowly slid down the side with a look of frozen shock, finally slumping into a fetal position on the road. one of the masked men darted a look over at me and gave me a gloved thumps up. a loud honking from behind frightened me and i looked up to realize the traffic had began to move once again. i placed the car back into drive and drove up beside the man in the lexus who was still talking on his cell phone and i thought to myself, “what kind of bastard buys a gold car anyway?”

5 comments:

anne said...

Love it.

Queen Neetee said...

Riveting. You definitely can write a good story...each and everytime.

Perfect Virgo said...

White Van Man is a dangerous cove Superfly, beware of him. Gold Sedan man can look after himself. "manhattans with double cherries" ha ha!

Leah said...

Love it. I only wish the man in the gold lexus had been listening to rap really loudly... (like Michael Bolton in Office Space) hehehee.

GEL said...

Interesting writing. I'm glad I cruised here from Queen N's site.
Are you related to her?