A/N: Ownership: I don't own Glee copyrights. I have tonnes of dvd's, cd's, paraphernalia which includes my Intellectual Property of Imagination.
I'm Australian, we drive on the left side of the road and sit in the right side to drive. I write, what I know.
Trigger Warning: Just letting you know, this chapter is intense.
I Wanted this to be an independent story, for the moment I'm going to publish here under our great love of Glee. However, as my baby, please substitute the following, and change to the cast mentioned.
Kurt - Scott, played by a very young Richard Gere.
Rachel - Charlotte, played by Makyla Smith.
Sebastian - Jaxon, played by Fabrizio Filippo.
Tina - Claire, played by Scarlett Johansen.
Blaine - Paul, played by Andy Garcia.
Every story needs an original character or two,
*Harley - played by Ashton Kutcher.
*Charlie - played by a very young Kevin Kline.
~ Read, enjoy ~
~ Travelling the White Line ~
Chapter Three.
Change.
Harley knew that today was going to be the day that would change his life. He could feel it in his bones.
He never paid attention to his grandma, never believing her ramblings and witch like behaviour. He refused to believe in what he couldn't see, touch or taste.
But feeling, in his blood stream, in his nerve endings, in his heart and mind, from his feet all the way up through his spine, down each arm, back to his neck and up and holding in the centre of his core, feeling was knowing. And what he felt, warmed and heated him in more ways than one.
As he stretched his filthy body, his hands reached over behind and held his neck. Applying desired pressure there and down to the muscles on his shoulders, alternating with his neck. Closing his eyes, he could remember the exact feel as he applied more pressure to his own neck, the exact rough texture of his last meeting with Father Peter.
Harley was a rebellious child of the cloth, Father Peter intended to correct his ill ways. Father Peter should have listened to the first warning.
Now the tide of fortune was coming Harley's way, as he admired the two door sports car. The shiny mustard gold paint job, a glaring contrast to the dull black soft top.
He slinked by it as the owner went to look for the water tap. This was just what he was looking for, a solid black interior with no shiny surfaces.
He paused too long and was caught. "What, are you thinking?" The owner's voice roughly demanded.
"Oh nothing." He coyly said. "Just admiring." He winked at the owner, knowing he had the looks that 'gays' could be wrapped around his little finger. "How does she handle?"
The small compliment worked as the owner relaxed. "She's pretty good. She moves the way I want her to, no argument!"
Harley winks and smiles at the owner again, playfully biting his pinky in request. "May I?" He asks wanting to have a little try behind the steering wheel.
"Um, …" The owner hesitates, but he has the keys, so, "Yeah, yeah sure." He kind of whispers more than says, as he also blushes a shade of pink.
A shade of pink that Harley thinks is really adorable. But that's not the team Harley bats for, he just plays on people's emotions, to get what he wants.
The owner opens the door, checking for any valuables being secured away.
Harley brushes his clothes down. "You're really so very kind. Thank you." And he taps the owners chin as he twists too closely to him, and sits down.
Soaking up the comfort of the driver's seat, he pushes his upper back in further to rest his shoulders, neck and head against the head rest. Feet on the floor controls, his hands glide over the steering wheel. "Oh she feels delightful."
The owner is leaning down on the open door, one hand on the roof. His forehead leaning against it, admiring Harley's enthusiasm.
He looks up at the owner, batting his long lashes playfully. "Could I possibly hear her purr? I promise not to take her from you."
The owner shifts uncomfortably, side-tracked by Harley's pursed lips of pleading. Harley watches as the owner melts and purses his lips too, as if they had joined contact.
Harley bites his bottom lip, and winces as the owner says, "Gee, I don't know."
"You can sit here, right alongside me." Using just the right amount of sing song in persuasion. "Come on? Pleeeease?" Little finger being bit again. Hoping the guy hasn't seen Twilight, 'cause he feels a little like Alice right now.
Not quite working to plan, not that Harley plans much. He swings his legs around, as if to get out, and grabs the owners knees, applying just enough pressure to seem engaged in a conversation of some sort. The owner stands more upright, quite perturbed by Harley's touch.
Time for Harley to get firmer and be in control of this wimp. His fingers squeeze his knees, and the owner flips a glance there and back, his eyes now locked with Harley's firmly looking deep in to him. "You have my word, I just, …. want to … hear …. her little heart beat." Each word pronounced with deep breaths of reassurance.
This works, the owner definitely responds to demands, even from a stranger. He's mesmerized by Harley's physical conversation, blended with these words of persuasion.
"Oh, alright then. Yeah, yeah sure. I'll be right with you." He tries to reassure himself.
He walks around to the passenger side, gets in and gives the keys to Harley.
"Thank you. That wasn't so hard now was it?" Harley buckles up, winks and indicates for the owner to do so. "I'm Harley by the way."
"I'm Charlie." Says the owner.
"Sure you are." Harley starts the ignition. Applies gentle pressure to increase her motor. "You really should buckle up." He looks at the owner with insistence.
"I thought you were just turning the engine over, to hear her purr?" Charlie queries.
Car in gear, no care if Charlie should buckle up or not. Harley checks his mirrors, checks fuel and other levels. Looks for merging in to the traffic.
Looks at Charlie once more, "You thought wrong, babe!"
As he smashes the accelerator down, the car grabs at the road as he takes off from the petrol station.
The attendant left behind, hits the alarm bell. The security cameras flip around and zoom in, taking necessary extra pictures until the car is too far down the highway.
Changes up through the gears as he barrels down the highway. Changing lanes often, in and out of where he can flit.
Charlie had grabbed at the seat as the car took off. Now he's focused and realizing he really needs to buckle up. His eyes wildly looking at Harley, who looks cool, calm and collected. Charlie is scrambling for the seat belt, it keeps catching with the auto-lock. A small amount of security holds him as he clips in.
"What the hell are you doing man?" Not really believing what's happening.
Harley glances at Charlie and back to the road. Ignoring questions, thoughts, noticing he buckled up though.
He blows Charlie a kiss, "Hold on sweetheart. This won't take very long." Turning on the stereo, flipping to cd mode, pulling a disc out of his breast pocket and putting it in. Turning the music up louder, louder, really loud!
Charlie holds what he can inside, his fear of the unknown, his anger at himself for being sucked in to the whims of a cute guy. He holds in the desire to relieve himself, this car cost way too much and he refuses to let go and give more control of himself to Harley.
He watches the other traffic blurr as they speed along, in and out of the tightest holes of traffic that he wouldn't dare have tried. Admiration for Charlie bordering on foolishness, considering the guy just broke so many laws and betrayed his word.
"I think this car was made for me."
"This is my car. It wasn't made for you. I've worked really hard to save the money and paid a high price to have her."
"What's your line of business?"
"I'm a publicist for ….. and ….."
"Really? You're that guy?" Harley can't believe his luck. This is the guy that screwed his family over. Well, the guy who is the publicist for the guy who screwed his family over. "Your guy ruined so many people's lives. Don't you think?"
"What do you mean, don't I think?"
"I mean, don't you see what he's been doing and how it's ruined so many innocent people's lives?"
"They're not all based on what he says and does. Many of them choose their own lives."
"Bullshit! And you know it." Harley knows something more, "What about the drugs he deals and the drugs he takes?"
"What are you talking about?"
"He uses the safest ….. but peddles the worst …."
"No, he doesn't do that."
"You don't know your own guy. Tell you what, " He slows the car down, being sweet with the gearbox. He brings her to the curb. "This is where you get out."
"What!?" Hardly believing this is happening at all. Unsure when the highway became a single road in the middle of no-where.
Harley pulls a small gun out of the pocket of his pants and waves it indicating for Charlie to get out.
"Honestly, Charlie? How dumb are you? Get out, and when you see your boss next, be sure to mention my name."
He cocks the gun, and Charlie frantically scrambles out of the car.
He shuts the door, Harley relaxes the gun, locks the passenger door. Puts the gun back in his pocket and waves goodbye. As he does so, he notices a dark rush on Charlie's pants.
He shakes his head, poor fellow. "This just isn't his day."
He checks to merge on to the road, and heads to his new home.
His new home some three hundred plus kilometres away.
Music up loud, air vents open a smidge. He pats the dashboard, and accelerates to a new life. "Okay baby!girl, show me what you've got."
Teetering.
That's how Rachel was summing up her day and life. She felt she was teetering between wants and reality.
Looking out of her lounge room window, looking out over the rest of the town, was easier than going out in to it.
The funeral was over and done, she had packed up all of Finn's things, put them in a box, at the back of the unused wardrobe. Which was in an unused room, at the far end of the house.
Standing by the window, arms folded, foot tapping, watching children playing between the house on her right and the house three to the left and over the road. They ran with squeals of delight, back and forth. New scooters, bikes, Christmas toys being pulled around.
Playing as children used to, no worries of fast traffic, since the bus route had changed, no fear of roaming dogs or swooping magpies. Her microwave dinged loudly, breaking her reverie.
She turned to the kitchen, and watched her mind play out walking in there, getting the food, utensils, and attempting to eat. Clearing the dishes, arranging fresh flowers, looking out the backyard, waiting for Finn to come home.
Instead of what she should do, she walked in the kitchen, unplugged the microwave, removed the cooked item and threw it in the trash can.
The tap dripped loudly, drip, drip, splash, splash, splash!
A car could be heard and felt thundering down the road toward them. She grabbed at her stomach from the fear and queasiness.
She ran to the lounge room window, hoping the children would get off the road in time. Looking frantically at the scene in front of her, the approaching car's music boom box thundering louder. The children were stopped, looking to where the car was coming.
She BANGED on the window. "Get off the road!" She yelled. They looked up at her, but the reflection film prevented them seeing her. The double glazing prevented them hearing her. It was the sudden, slight vibrations that attracted their look.
The mustard sports car came closer in to her right vision. The speed of lightening felt to be moving so ominously slow. The children looked to the car, the bass boom, boomed, a ball bounced up …. and down, and …. up. A cat stretched itself up and hissed at the car.
The driver slammed on his brakes, stopping just before the oldest child could pull his brother out of harms way.
Rachel collapsed to her floor, her heart racing, the sounds reverberating through her mind. She crawled to her sofa, reached for the remote control and listened to the soothing hum of the curtains closing.
She used a remote to turn on the heater, curled up tight and pulled a heavy blanket up to her ears. Waiting for later, waiting for something to get better, waiting for the energy of living to return.
~ I already know what you think … ~