Chapter 4: The Drifting Aston Martin

"Weren't you the one who invited me? Then I'll let you lead the way." Wesley smiled. Where most men shrank in Iris's presence, he stayed calm and composed. It almost seemed like he was the one in charge whenever they were together. "All right then. I think Jifgas Blue Mountain Coffee is excellent. How about I get you a cup of their finest Blue Mountain Coffee?" "Sounds great. I'll go with whatever you say, Iris." They were still chatting when trouble broke out ahead. A cargo truck loomed in front of them. Oddly, it slowed to a crawl, trapping the Aston Martin behind it. At some point, a Hummer had appeared in the rear. Seeing its chance, it suddenly surged forward, barreling straight for the Aston Martin's rear bumper like a mad bull. The Hummer's driver wore a helmet and full body armor. The car had been reinforced with a steel cage to protect him. He meant to ram into it and escape. Pinned between two cars, the Aston Martin wouldn't stand a chance. Iris saw it and her beautiful face blanched. Panic washed over her. In a situation like this, she could only wait for the end. Wesley watched the Hummer arrowing in through the rearview mirror, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile. A truck blocking the road ahead, a Hummer roaring up behind. In the breath between heartbeats, he yanked the steering wheel left, slammed the brake, and pulled the emergency brake all in one motion. What happened next made everyone gasp. All four tires locked with a screech. The car pivoted, tail whipping out, the Aston Martin skidding sideways toward the truck as if sliding on glass. "Ahh!" The truck rushed up at them like a wall. Terror strangled Iris's voice. On reflex, she squeezed her eyes shut and flung herself across the car, clutching Wesley's waist. If she was going to die, dying in his arms felt like the only comfort left to her. Then the impossible took shape. The Aston Martin completed a clean one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin in place. Just as it was about to slide under the truck, the nose snapped straight. In a blink, the Aston Martin was facing the Hummer head-on. In that instant, Wesley pulled off a maneuver most drivers wouldn't even attempt on a public road, flipping the car to the opposite lane and running against traffic. The engine roared. The Aston Martin shot forward, the engine's snarl pounding the air. As the Hummer lunged past, the Aston Martin slipped by the threat, so close they practically traded paint. It couldn't have been tighter, but the Aston Martin dodged the trap before the truck, and the Hummer hit it. Boom! Iris and Wesley were safe. The Hummer was not. With its target gone, there was no time left to react. The accelerating vehicle drove itself straight under the truck. Rumble! Fire leaped up. The Hummer exploded, a sheet of flame swallowing the cargo truck in an instant. The truck driver staggered out, but the fire engulfed him. He lurched a few steps and crashed to the ground. In moments, he was a charred heap. By then, the Aston Martin had vanished in a blur of taillights, while Iris still had her face buried against Wesley's chest, letting out short, sharp screams, trembling from head to toe. In her mind, she had already died. "It's over, Iris," Wesley said softly, patting her back. "It's over?" She blinked, glanced around, then drew away, cheeks flaming as she settled back into her seat. She watched the string of explosions lighting up the night behind them, then pressed a hand to her chest and let out a long breath. Relief softened her features. The gesture made Wesley blink. He couldn't help noticing. Iris's chest was well endowed. "Iris, did you cross someone?" he asked. "Cross someone?" She stared into space for a beat, then gasped. "Could it be him?" After a moment, she continued, "Wesley, leave this to me. I'll handle it." She pulled out her phone. "I would like..." When she hung up, Wesley smiled. "So, are we still getting that coffee?" "Of course. How could I go back on my word to you?" Iris smiled. In the span of a few minutes, she had returned to her poised, elegant self. Wesley had to admit she was a woman who had seen the world. They drove to a tasteful café. Iris ordered two cups of their finest Blue Mountain Coffee and even ordered a few snacks. "Iris, who exactly did you offend?" Wesley asked, savoring his coffee. "I haven't really crossed anyone. If anyone, it'd be him." Wesley kept his silence. If she meant him to know, she would tell him. If she chose not to, he wouldn't push. After a brief pause, she went on. "He is a friend of my ex-husband. After my husband died, he resented how much control I kept over the company. He's been trying to wrest more shares from me. If the car accident was arranged, I'm almost certain it was him. But, Wesley, don't get involved. I'll handle it." They lingered over their coffee. To Iris, dealing with the car accident mattered far less than talking with Wesley. She did not fret. Wesley cared even less. He had weathered far bigger storms than a single car crash. When they finished, Iris insisted on driving him home. He yielded in the end. "If you ever need a hand, don't forget to call me," Wesley said with a smile at the curb. "I will." Iris shot him a sultry look and slid behind the wheel. She dropped him back at the courier depot and then headed off. After work, Wesley returned to his small house in the slum. He didn't turn in right away. He changed into fresh clothes and headed west. His steps carried him to the neon-soaked front of a lavish nightclub. He stood under a big tree, lit a cigarette, and smoked in silence while he watched the entrance pulse with light. Before long, a taxi pulled up. Out stepped a woman with long waves cascading over her shoulders, dressed in flashy, sexy clothes that made her even more striking. At the sight of her, Wesley's hand began to tremble, then shook harder and harder. Seven years ago, he had gone to Alendor and later came back for his childhood sweetheart. "Wesley, when I graduate, you have to show up on a white horse and sweep me off my feet!" The memory of walking Whitney to school felt as fresh as yesterday.  Because of those words, Wesley had gone alone to North Alendor, hungry to build a life worthy of her. He had never imagined the homecoming would be like this. Whitney got out of the taxi, and a few more young women arrived, laughing and chattering. They sashayed inside together, with a provocative swing to their hips as they disappeared into the club.