I've already gone over who I am a few times by now, but I mustn't make light of those who perhaps have only recently came into the mix, or those of you who maybe weren't paying enough attention when I first had gone over the basics. In short, im a fairly simple man, one who never truly asked for very much and as a matter of extension from such would never have done much for the sake of procuring a personal sense of achievement for myself. For better or worse, my meager existence was a demonstration in just how nonchalant a man could be in the face of future uncertainty lingering just outside of the stretch of the dying embers of the horizons heavenly orange glow. As of this point in time which you have read to I am currently a nineteen year-old man who hardly has a job, and even less in the way of a stable mantra to will me towards any one direction in life, but yet to make matters all the more difficult the rest of the world seems to fail to notice what I clearly had long before money had become a factor. Perhaps I should have taken the time to assess whether or not I should have considered which of the two pale conceptualizations had been the lesser of the two evils? But then again is it being true to ones own self to find the best option before you to simply choose to either be a demon and be ignored by the masses, or merely be a despicable person of humanity and be lauded by the likes of the blind? The polaroid's and public officials had failed to see me on a few accounts by this point, and instead looked at my past pedigree and personal losses to crudely compose a stereotype of who and what I was meant to be, forking a smile between their cheeks out of pity and interpersonal accountability. As sad and baseless as the thought would seem to be to some, it was at about that point where I began to prognosticate amongst the dimly lit recesses of my brain that it would serve me well to emotionally distance myself from the lot of them, and seriously consider the way forward to discovering the cure for my ailing soul. Regardless of all that had come to pass up until that exact moment and the wondering eyes of the powers that be, I now had a reputation to uphold and without success I would surely draw far too much attention to myself, they had figured me to become another youthful playboy with my financial good fortune...and soon enough I would have my moment to taste the waters of Gomorra.
"Fuck...that doesn't look good..." Michael remarked to himself in a huff, my eyes catching a wisp of smoke starting to creep out from the crack between the cars outer body and the hood, a few moments later the car had slowed to a crawl off to the side of the road.
"You waited until there was smoke coming from your engine to notice that?" I questioned him with a bit of listlessness as I had just then been stricken of my otherworldly temple of inner cognitive safe haven.
"No, smart ass, the car was overheating while you were spacing out of the goddamn window, and then it started sounding like there was a quarter clanging around inside of the engine. I...I don't think we're going to be getting there on time." He elaborated as he gestured to the hood as the grey vapor refused to let up even with him having pulled over to the side of the road and then seconds later turning the car off completely.
"Well...you said that it was overheating, when was the last time to added oil or coolant?" I wasn't the type to know the first thing about how an automobile works, outside of the fact that when I turn the key in the ignition I have few problems, but even I knew not to let your fluids run too low if you were going to be traveling long distances. In a way, it could be said that there is a bit of fatalism in the sense that I had been given a last minute invitation, seeing as if I hadn't then I would have simply been given an enraged phone call wherein i'd laugh at his lapse in judgment. Not because i'm a heartless human being, and I would end up having to save his own ass in that kind of situation, but because while i'm a hopeless fuckup by nature he's expected to be a bit more or point.
"It said that I wasn't supposed to do that for another a thousand miles or so..." He told me, looking away from my own face and back at the car as it lay dormant on the long and winding road which hadn't seen another car pass in all of the time we had spend standing idly, and seeing as Michael had taken the initiative to pick this road solely for sightseeing purposes and to avoid traffic we most likely wouldn't be seeing any anytime soon.
"Shit, Mike, your car has been around since friggin' Truman! Do you have anyone you could call out here to come and pick us up, besides me? Or, I don't know...triple a, maybe?" I asked him, the obvious role reversal becoming a source of agitation for him as he had to realize that someone half his age who was spending their nights mooning the holy sacraments had been speaking with more sense and practicality then they had been.
"Well..." He was thinking as he spoke, the words not coming out with the same wry smile that he had usually trademarked to sway the opinions of the young and impressionable in his favor. "...I know one guy who I could call, well I mean...someone who might be willing to help someone with several million in the bank. Think of it like triple a for the wealthy and entitled, a welcome rescue service for guys in Versace suits who aren't shy about blowing a quarter million."
"I...I don't know, I mean...just because I can spend the money, doesn't mean that I should, alright?" I reasoned, causing him to momentarily roll his eyes in my direction before taking a step towards me and reassuringly placing one hand on my shoulder.
"Brian, I get it, but you know what...i'm not asking you to buy a yacht, here, alright? You're young, and right now you need to be able to realize that when an opportunity presents itself to make a few memories and get yourself out of a slump...you should fuckin' take it, kid." His smile became enhanced and almost pungently joyful as he knew that I was folding into the fabric of that oh so enjoyable infusion of indifference and hopefully vein denial, my lips opened once or twice to speak with little to say in my defense before letting out a sigh.
"What's the fucking number?" My voice tersely rang out.
He had feverishly retrieved his phone seconds after my official notice of approval, and it had taken roughly an hour after such time for our ride to show, the most unnerving aspect had to have been the idea that I was literally going to be giving what had to have been a life changing amount of money to someone I knew nothing about. That's right, I was simply being given the good word of a man who had spent the better half of a the last few decades bandaging the wounds of a class of people who's idea of conflict resolution was a wooden bat to the temple, and now it was merely a manner of time before I realized just now truthful he had been about the people I was slowly becoming more intimately connected with...whether it was due to the my face at day or the sentinel that crawled forth from the shadows of the night. When the faint beams of light coming off of the elongated and lavishly waxed black limousine came into view from as far away I could see, their headlights being the only light all around us in a sort of way that seemed to be like that of a light at the end of a tunnel, except this time it was the safety of mind coming straight at us. Outside of the fact that the body of the vehicle looked to be so lovingly cared for that it made me think that someone must have wiped it down with a diaper, there wasn't much that could be seen from the outer body alone. That being said, however, upon it stopping beside us on the road which still remained all to ourselves I could see very easily why Michael had been so eager to have...well...whoever it was come to get us. Inside of the limo was a throng of women who were each seated in a sort of "l" shaped pattern of plush fabric sporting a slightly dingy grey color, but looks aside it still to this day is the most comfortable thing my ass has ever touched down on, the centerpiece of which they all were corralled around was a perfectly illuminated bar which had at least two dozen glasses and varieties on stock and on demand for the persons drinking pleasure, and lastly the women...all with smiles that could turn Hitler into mother Teresa trained on you from the second you placed a toe into the car...all of them sporting dresses that would have their mothers rolling their eyes and praying for their sakes. I like to think of myself as a man who takes the idea of being respectful towards all women more seriously then anything else, despite my own exploits in the past, and with an ideology of "look, don't touch" being questioned by a sea of Dolce and Gabanna which were longing for me to do much of the opposite.
"Brian, you want a drink, kid?" Michael called out to me after we both had taken our seats inside of the limousine, he already having had poured himself a glass of scotch had now been leaning in towards the bar to make a few spirits for some of the ladies, a simple nod was all that I gave him as he lost in the dream of getting the attention of just one of them. A glass handed to me shortly thereafter, I took a small sip to test the taste of the unknown splendor waiting in my chalice, some of the women taking notice so I decided to quickly down the rest of it as if my life depended on it.
"Spice rum, with a hint of cinnamon, nice." I said aloud, Michael giving me a friendly smack to the side of my arm before returning to his own polite company, baring his pearly white teeth and an opening line of "don't worry ladies, im a doctor..." being about where I began to trail off the eardrum rupturing level of noise from the bass centric music and the blue-ish tinted lighting that made me think the interior had been lit up via black light.