Flash into View

A flash story as promised, something in direct opposition of the longer tales I had been posting to date.

Might be done or there maybe 1 more flash story will follow in the days to come.

Take what you will from them and leave your votes and comments behind.

-V

*****

Carlos gunned his engine, his hand slipping off the shifter of his Honda Accord. Gritting his teeth he pulled his foot off the gas, the whining scream of his car's exhaust quieting down. Something banged into the passenger side window along with a woman's yell. He looked, his vision marred by a combination of alcohol, smoke fumes, and fury. The woman's face was red with anger; but her dark brown eyes were frightened. He heard her beating on the window, muffled cries echoing in the darkness.

Snarling in her direction, Carlos blinked twice, dropped the vehicle into "drive" and then flipped her the middle finger. "Fuck you, bitch!" he screamed out in time with his foot slamming on the gas pedal. The Honda roared to life again, pulling away from the parking lot of the Mediterranean Manor in a spray of grit, pebbles, and chirping bits of tire. The door handle had given one more thunk as it was ripped out of the woman's hand, her frantic attempts to get into Carlos' car failed as he sped away.

"Damn you, Maria!" Carlos cursed as he tore down Main Street towards Route 101, the Honda Accord sliding back and forth as struggled to keep the car steady. "Fuck you!"

The light in front of him changed from yellow to red, forcing the furious man to stomp on the brake; the Accord squealing to a stop just inches before crossing into the intersection. He tried to wipe his eyes dry with the end of his suit sleeve but the cheap fabric only spread the tears about his face and scratched at his skin.

"Fucking damn it. Shit!" he cursed, feeling about between his seat and the center console until his questing fingers stumbled upon a discarded napkin. Pulling it free, he wiped his face a second time and then pinched the end of his dripping nose. "Bitch. You fucking bitch!"

Carlos tilted the rearview mirror so he could get a glimpse of himself, barely holding his patience in check as he waited for the light to turn green. His black hair was still slicked back and spikey from his efforts getting to the party earlier this afternoon. His mouth was a firm unsettled line, his eyes bloodshot and inflamed, his expression was that of indignant agony.

A sudden honk behind him had him look up, surprised to see the light had already changed to green. Twisting the mirror back into place he eased off the brake and drove onward. This area of Patchogue had seen better days, many of the store fronts were tired; a few of them were merely shuttered and abandoned.

His phone gave a jolt in his jacket pocket. Holding the wheel with one hand, he fished it out; looking at the screen with a sneer. "Maria Arevalo" it read, the ringtone playing Taylor Swift's, "You Belong With Me."

Carlos held the phone with his one hand, hearing the notes as they played out, Maria most likely on the other end muttering "pick up pick up pick up" in that unsatisfied tone she often affected when she was feeling impatient. Shaking his head, he hit the mute button and let it fall to the passenger's seat. "No, Maria," he muttered to the dashboard. "I'm not gonna talk to you."

The car in front of him slowed at the next major corner; some abandoned pizzeria sat on one side and a car wash was on the other. The light here was a long red and Carlos found himself tapping his free hand on the steering wheel as he waited. Slowly, beads of sweat were gathering under his collar and along his hair line; soaking together and making his skin feel clammy. Shaking his head, he cursed, "fuck it," and rolled his window down, letting in the cool night sea tinged breeze. The smell of marshes and salt air filled the Accord, giving Carlos' stomach a grinding twist. Screwing up his face, he gathered what phlegm he could and spat it out the open window. The taste of stale rum and his own guts on his tongue made him do it again and then a third time before the light changed.

His phone buzzed anew and then started to play that Taylor Swift song once more. "Fucking hell, Maria. Leave me the fuck alone." He fumbled for it, swerving gently in his lane, before he could thumb it silent again. "Go back inside and grab Miguel's cock again, you bitch."

Three hours ago, Carlos and Maria had driven out to the Mediterranean Manor to celebrate her Tia Cielo's 55^th birthday. The trip had been filled with laughter, joking, and not a little bit of good natured sexual flirting as they drove. Together for the last 3 years, engaged for 4 months, Carlos and Maria were sharing his apartment in North Farmingdale, not too far from the college. He had settled down some after getting his degree and was working as a line supervisor at a packaging plant in Bethpage. She was a hairdresser at a friend's shop in Amityville. Neither of them had a lot of money, but they had each other and were happy.

Two hours ago Carlos was filling up on as many eggplant rollatinis he could snag from the buffet line. The two of them didn't get many opportunities to go out like this and the food was both rich and flavorful. Maria had chided him that he was being a chanco, making oinking noises as he shoveled the saucy and cheesy treat into his mouth, but she did it with a smile and a tender hand on his arm.

An hour ago Carlos had finished his third drink and was stumbling a bit on the dance floor, Maria laughing wildly in his arms as the two of them spun about the crowded room. Holding his hands up he made begging noises as he tried to step off the floor and head back to his seat for a drink or two to rehydrate himself. Maria was smiling but allowed him to pull away, her free hand was then taken by her cousin Raul as he pulled her back to join in the next fast number already being played.

Thirty minutes ago Carlos had put down another Rum and Coke, realizing that the friendly conversation/ argument he had been having with some of Maria's relatives about Argentina's crappy team versus Brazil's obviously much better soccer players had taken up much of his time and he had lost track of Maria. Looking over the dance floor he did manage to catch sight of his fiancée on the other end of the hall, having a very close and private conversation with Miguel Santoro.

The same Miguel Santoro she had been dating just before she and Carlos started going out.

Carlos asked her Uncle Rob about Miguel and why he was here, learning that he had been a friend of her cousin Isla for many years and was well thought of by the family. There was some well-meaning ribbing and laughter that followed; the men telling Carlos that he had nothing to worry about and that Maria was very much his and his alone.

But ten minutes ago, Carlos' world crashed in. He tried to keep a weather eye on Maria and Miguel for the rest of the conversation, noting when they moved, where they walked, and how close they were standing next to each other. It was when he saw Miguel drape a casual arm across Maria's shoulder and steer her out of the main hall that Carlos excused himself and made to follow. Sliding and dodging his way across the room he eventually made it to the same side door the two had stepped out of just a handful of moments ago but did not see them.

The hall was short and turned left. He followed it until he found himself standing outside on an enclosed patio. A few of the party goers were here smoking; none of them were Maria or Miguel. Bothered, Carlos had turned back and reentered the Manor, wondering where they had gotten off to. Growing upset, he walked back down the hall to go back to the main room when he saw one of the side room doors was partially ajar.

Pushing it open he saw Miguel's back facing him, hips twisted at the side. He had his head bent down and was kissing Maria's neck, one free hand pushed into the top of her dress, fondling her right breast. Maria was squirming and doing a very poor job on deterring Miguel, especially since she had both her hands inside his unbuttoned pants and from the motion of her arms, was slowly jerking her ex-boyfriend off.

In his younger days, Carlos would be the first person to get into a fight and to hell with the repercussions. However, he was no longer that angry young man. His recent 25^th birthday, his job, his life, and his future were the things that kept him from grabbing Miguel from behind and stabbing the maricon. Instead he snapped his fingers, causing the two lovers to open their eyes and acknowledge him. Maria looked terrified; Miguel looked...smug.

Carlos then turned and left. Fuck her, he had thought, let Miguel get her home. Or to a motel. Or maybe the back seat of his car. She had tried to follow him out but Carlos had already gotten into his Honda, thanking his lucky stars that he opted to park on the street instead of using valet parking, and then drove away.

And now she was calling him, trying to get him on the phone. What for? Carlos thought as he made the left on Route 101 and headed north. What's there to explain? I caught you with your hands on the scumbag's cock and he was kissing your neck. He stepped on the accelerator, his anger and recent drinking causing him to drive a bit faster and more aggressive than he would normally. I just want to get home and get some sleep. Try to forget this fucking night. She better be willing to give me back that damned engagement ring.

And what the fuck was that look Miguel was giving me, Carlos fumed. "Fucking prick. Maricon. Scumbag." He gripped the wheel tighter, eyes narrowed as he drove onward. "Smug bastard. I should have fucking popped him one. What the fuck was that?"

As he passed Brookhaven Hospital he moved into the left lane in anticipation of eventually getting on the highway. "And what the fuck, Maria? Did you forget what a scum bag he was? How many times did you complain to me when we first started going out about what a thug and piece of shit Miguel was? Not a man? Lazy? Good for nothing? Hell, your Mami couldn't tell me enough of what a rat he was. Why would you do anything with him?"

Only the cool breeze answered him as he drove on.

Tears began to gather in his eyes. Salty and stinging, they pooled at the base of his lids, welling up and threatening to spill over. Carlos grit his teeth as his vision swam; refusing to cry no matter what. He didn't cry when he was six, he didn't cry when his dog died, he didn't cry when he broke his foot. As long as the tears did not fall down his cheeks, he wouldn't cry now either. Not Maria...no woman...no bitch is ever going to make me cry.

His Accord was doing 63 mph on Route 101 when it drifted over to the left and clipped the median curb. Carlos suddenly jerked backwards and tried to pull the wheel to the right. Struggling to see, he over compensated and slammed his car through the back of someone's fence. His car sent wooden spears flying as he screamed impotently, trying to stop his headlong rush. It was only when he saw the back wall of the peoples' house, anxious faces looking up as his headlights approached, that he realized in his anger and rush he had failed to put his seatbelt on.

The right side of the front of his Honda rode up the stone steps, tilting his car as he held the brake down. The tires were shredded on impact, followed by the rims denting and the axle bending from the stress. The front bumper burst into plastic shards as the hood folded over itself. The wall of the house held back the 2,000 lbs. of steel and rubber long enough for the homeowner to fly off the couch and grab his two kids before running towards the other end of the room.

And then Carlos got a close-up view of the spider webbing windshield a split instant before the steering wheel air bag deployed.

• * *

Hello this is Erin Colton for News 12. Last night around 10 PM in Patchogue, Carlos Martinez, 25 of Farmingdale, drove his Honda Accord through the back of this house, owned by Lester and Alice Schmidtt, that butts up against busy Route 101. According to Suffolk Police we have learned that based upon the skid patterns on the roadway leading up to the accident, Mr. Martinez had to be driving in excess of 20 miles per hour over the speed limit. He was found alive but in serious condition behind the wheel with a blood alcohol level of .19; that is more than twice the legal limit. And as you can see from the path of destruction behind me, he's lucky to be alive. From Patchogue, this is Erin Colton for News 12 Long Island. Back to you in the studio.