Page 20 - The Houseguest

THE ACCIDENT
Rachel’s father had gifted her the fire-engine red Viper for her birthday, which she vowed to drive to work only on Fridays as her usual mode of transportation was the LIRR to Penn Station where she would catch the Number 2 train. This particular Friday fell before a three-day weekend and she had made plans with her boyfriend, Rusty to fly to St. Thomas for a quick getaway. He had offered this weekend escape as a belated birthday gift after forgetting her special day again. A guilt trip, she called it.
Nevertheless, she took off work early to pick up her dry cleaning, and follow up with a massage and mani-pedi. She had a reputation of always appearing coiffed and stylish, mostly because Rachel cared about one thing above all else, Rachel.
She hung her dry cleaning on a back hook and ignored the parking citation that had been strategically positioned on her windshield. She knew she would turn the windshield wipers on and watch it fly away to join the other discarded trash congregating on the side of the curbs. As she started the car, her Bluetooth synced automatically and began blaring her favorite Beyoncé tune: “Naughty Girl.” She’d driven about ten minutes into her journey on the way to meet Rusty at LaGuardia. The traffic was light due to the holiday weekend and she could feel the power of the V-10 engine beckoning from beneath the hood of the Viper. She hadn’t had a chance to open it up on the highway since removing the ridiculously enormous matching bow and ribbon her father had paid someone to wrap around the entire vehicle.
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life