Chapter 1

“What was that?” she said, meeting me at the front of her car. She was smiling, and shaking her head.

The term, “my bad” came to my mind. There was something very happy-go-lucky about her attitude. I was already irked, and her demeanor sent me over the edge.

“You just rear-ended my car, that’s what!” I had my cell ringing the police in my ear.

She was still shaking her head, looking between the cars, and rubbing some of the white paint from the front of her Altima that was now on my bumper.

“Bummer. I was hoping it hadn’t made a dent.”

“A dent! It’s a crater!” – “My name’s Alec Patini.” I stated into my cell. “I’ve been rear-ended on 23rd and Forest Ave. Right at the light. Yeah, bye.”

I sighed and looked at the female before me. She was about 5’7” with a small, curvy frame and blonde hair down her back and pulled away from her face. Stylishly dressed in charcoal slacks and a lilac sweater, there was something about her presence that flustered me. She was attractive; that made me angrier. Why were the attractive ones such ditzes?

“So?” she asked after I eyed her for a moment.

“What?”

“How long will it take them to get here?”

“Oh. Didn’t say.”

She blew some hair out of her face, looked at her watch, and walked back to her car.

“Where are you going?”

She came back w/ her purse. “Look, I’m going to give you my info for the police.”

“Oh, no you’re not. They will be here any minute. You are NOT leaving.”

She continued to write her info on the paper. “Come on, help me out here. I’ve already been late to work twice this week.”

“Ah. So you could be out of a job?” I was nodding my head. “I see. Forget that it’s costing me money for something I didn’t do. But, I hafta wait for the officer to get here alone, so you can make it to a job you’re probably not going to keep with your tardy track record.” I smacked my hand down on her hood, regretting it the moment my hand touched her vehicle.

She looked at my hand, still resting on her hood. “You did not just... Are you violent? Are you in some, like, rage rehab program?” She looked at me suspiciously.

I felt the blood rush to my face. Words were not coming, but my mouth was open. “Rage? As in Road Rage? As in some imbecilic blond just rear-ended me at (looking at my watch) 7:12 in the morning, and I’m just gonna smile and say, ‘Oh, no problem. You go ahead. My insurance premium is going to sky rocket because you were too busy putting on lipstick to notice -’”

“I was not putting on lipstick,” she interrupted.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. What were you doing?”

“I was”- for a moment I actually thought there was embarrassment on her face. “Thinking,” she finished, lamely.

I couldn’t help it; my face broke out into a huge grin. Sadistic, mind you, but, oh, I couldn’t help it. The blonde rear-ended me because she was ‘thinking.’ Could there be a more perfect joke? Too bad it was on me.

She was looking irritated now, and that kind of appeased my sense of justice. “It’s none of your business what I was doing!” she snapped back.

“Excuse me, but, uh, you made it my business...you ran into me...” Now, I hafta admit, I spoke to her like I was explaining that the moon was not made of cheese to a 3-year-old. It was too satisfying, watching her squirm after her perky ‘bummer’ attitude.

She looked me over, hatefully now. “You’re like some emotionally trigger happy, tightwad, aren’t you?” she asked, exasperated.

Now I kept my calm and condescended to her, “This is a 2003 Nissan 300ZT. Yes, I get emotional when someone hits her because they don’t have the sense to look where they are going. And, if you call not wanting to pay more than ninety dollars a month in insurance premiums, being a tightwad, then, yeah, you got me. I’m a tightwad.” I just looked at her like she was ridiculous. Purely because she was.

“So, we both pay higher premiums; it’s not the end of the world.”

“But, you hit me!”

She eyed me in a condescending way now. “Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket before?”

“Yeah.”

“Then your premium probably went up, didn’t it?”

“But, I was the one who was speeding.”

She huffs again. “Look, five years from now you’ll have completely forgotten this conversation and your insurance company won’t hold it against you.”

“But, you are completely missing the point!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Does that help?”

“Yeah, it would if you’d accompany it with the extra money I’m gonna hafta pay Farmer’s Way for the next five years.”

“It could be worse. At least I have insurance; you could have to pay for the repairs as well.”

“True.” I nodded, looking around the intersection begging for a cop to show up. Something I rarely found myself wishing for.

Then she mumbled just audibly. “Not that you would know what a bright side is.”

I pretended not to hear her. Ditz. A spasm shot through my neck when I turned to look back around at her. I started rubbing it.

“I think I’m injured.” The moment I said it, I wished I hadn’t. It sounded so pathetic, and I knew I’d only said it to freak her out.

She looked incredulous for a moment. “Let me see,” she said, getting behind me and rubbing my shoulders. I immediately tensed under her touch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to see if your neck is hurt.”

“My neck is up here.” I pointed, and she reached up as though she was going to rub my neck.

I pulled her hand off. “Stop it!”

At that point, a police car pulled over behind her vehicle.

For some reason (call me male chauvinist, I don’t care), I had expected the officer to be male. When she got out of the car, I let out a sigh that clearly helped “the thinking girl” read my mind. “Just my luck,” was what I was thinking. But, I just stood there pretending I had not sighed, even though she was looking at me with her arms crossed. Threateningly. I was determined not to talk to her. Again.

I got to work late, though I admit I did take a minute to snap a picture of the dent with my cell phone. Just in case. Wish I’d thought of it at the time of the accident. But, it had all gone smoothly after that. Officer Medford had made the report and we were on our way. I was careful not to say another word to the Thinkinator. Though, I had a great urge to holler as she walked back to her car, “Try not to think while you’re driving anymore.” But, I didn’t. I was the faultless victim in this situation; that made me superior. So, why did I feel like I had done something wrong?

I had a meeting in thirty minutes and had to throw myself into turbo mode to finish up my presentation. It was a good thing I stayed an extra hour last night to prepare. I’d be in hot water now if I hadn’t. Hot water. Oh, I didn’t get my coffee this morning! That accident was throwing me completely off focus. And, of course, what should run through my mind, but that girl’s face. When she flicked her hair and her eyebrows narrowed. “...emotionally trigger-happy, tightwad...”

I growled. I really growled right there in my cubicle. Then I called my co-worker, Jason McHorter. “Jason, you don’t happen to know if there is coffee in the lounge this morning?”

“Why, hello Patini! I was hoping you’d show up today.” Not only was Jason my co-worker, he was also the manager of the project I was soon to present to our clients. As in 23 minutes...and 42 seconds. 41... “I need coffee.” I was begging, as I clicked in rapid movements across my computer screen.

There was no reply, so I hung up. I kept working, hoping he’d gotten my desperate plea for caffeine. If not, I was not going to get up and leave. 10 seconds would mean the difference between life and cranial disembodiment. The room was quiet, but for my maniacal clicking. Then, (insert angels singing), in walks the best human being in the world, the man I would turn to if I was hanging by a prong of a fork from a mountain precipice: Jason. With coffee! “Thanks!” I said, swinging my chair around to chug the entire contents. I got down a gulp, and froze. I looked at him, horror-struck. “What is this?”

He shrugged, part pitying and part laughing, “It’s instant.”

I spent 3.6 seconds just staring at him and back at the coffee.

“It was either that or steal the secretary’s. And, I’m not sure hers was caffeinated. But, this one is.” He exited my office with a “Drink up.” I gulped it down with the feeling I was going to hurl the contents onto our clients in...15 minutes and 4 seconds. Man, I gotta hurry.

I walked in with 2 minutes and 42 seconds to spare. My coffee stayed down, and the presentation went so well they want me to fly to their corporate headquarters and present it there. In Germany! Yeah, I think I’m up to that. If there aren’t any blonde pilots behind me...thinking.