Cars & Guys

One hundred miles per hour.
Jamiroquai is blasting from the car radio.
'Faster! Faster! He's catching up' Chantal bawls. Her long, black, lustrous hair fluttering in the squall. Her brown eyes intense with wonder. Her knuckles red tension by holding on to the dashboard. 'He's about to flank us!'
One hundred-twenty miles per hour.
Her screams lost in the rumble of the engines. Her fear swallowed by the air violently flaying her sore cheeks.
'He's here. Oh my God!' her words drained by the sudden turn of the car. Chantal screams. Her body swerving to the right. Losing the grip of the dashboard holding on to Aisha who's steering madly trying to keep control. Her black, wavy hair wrapping around her face hindering her sight. She raises her hadn to flick her fine hair away from her deep, black eyes. The car sways.
'Now Britney's lastest single' the DJ announces.
'Put your hands on the wheel'!
The turn is wide and never ending. It seems to go round and round forever.
'Don't slow down! Don't slow down!'
'I can't...' Aisha tries to protest. The car sways again and she places all her attention back to the road swirling in front of her like a reel. Chantal is holding Aisha's hair away from her eyes when they reach the flat asphalt once again. Aisha glances nervously in the rearview mirror. Her eyes sparkle. 'We've lost him! We've lost him' she yells squirming excitedly in her seat. Chantal looks back.
'Yes. We've done it again! We've done it again!' she yelps bouncing about in the seat too small for her heavy backside, tapping Aisha on her left arm. 'We've made it! You're such a good driver! It's the sharp turn that threw him, you know? He's sped through it like a bullet'
'Yeah' Aisha assents brushing her hair off her face. 'I'm sort of very good, ain't I?'
'And as she turns this way she moves in the logic of all my dreams, this fire burns, I realize that nothing's as it seems' Sting is singing from WLTM and the two girls join him with gusto.
--------------
'We followed him...' Aisha si saying to Shan.
'Why did you pick that guy this time?' Shan enquires.
'He was driving a bright, red car. Bright red cars were the day's prey'
Shan murmures. 'OK. Go on!'
'We were following this guy right, pushing and pushing, faster and faster, then we lose him and next thing we know he's behind us' Aisha recalls animatedly. 'So now he's really testing my driving skills right? And at the first sharp turn I dupe him like a guy who's just learn to drive!'
'Yeah, that was a pretty good chase, wasn't it? One of the best lately' Chantal confirms.
Shan is unconvinced. 'So this guy actually turned on you and began chasing you' she says worryingly. 'One day you might step on the tail of a rabies dog and who knows what's gonna happen then' she paused. Neither Aisha or Chantal are in the least concerned. 'Why do you do what you do anyway? I mean freaking drivers off like that...'
'It's fun!' Aisha and Chantal chorus.
It was fun, sure, but that was only part of the story. They did it because they were bored. They did it because they were frustrated. They did it because life wasn't really as promising as they had hoped it'd be. A small revenge over its swindle. It gave them a thrill to have power over the guys they chased. To freak them out or let htem go at their own pleasure. Like the cat with the mouse they'd toy with their quarries and the outcome would vary accordingly to the situation. Some would be set free completely unscathed. Some wouldn't be so lucky. The ultimate bliss in cars and guys.
---------------
'You won't beleive who I met today' Aisha is saying to Chantal taking her in on a plan that has been teasing her mind all day. 'This guy, Hanif. Sweats a lot'. She pronounces the last words with a mocking giggle and gives a sideway fleeting look on her left where Chantal is seating listening attentively. 'Teenager'
'Uh, that young heh?' Chantal intones.
'Yeah, young and pretty naive. - You know, a practicing Muslim'
There is a heavy sense of anticipation int eh metallic gray, unnonymously, second-hand BMW that's cruising down the palm-sided hihgwya in the refreshing breeze of early evening.
'There's an office party on Thursday. Someone's duty leave. Ah'm pretty sure the guy's gonna show up'
Chantal is now on the alert. You can almost see her ears prick to attention.
'After the party we could tail him' she concludes.
'And see where that leads us'
The girls exchange mischievous glances. A car attracts their attention and they speed off in pursuit of a black Peugeot.
---------------
The venue is packed with young people all dressed in the firm's authorized colors. Navy, white, cream, black and brown. Nothing that'd upset the eye. The cool air of a superior air conditioning system keeps an assorted variety of faked smiles on everyone's lips and the evening slips away uneventfully as an ice cube sliding down the perfectly polished bar counter. Free of glasses and barely any alcohol. Everyone's being very sensible but Aisha is in a different mood with her hand wrapped around the neck fo an oversized bottle of cheap champagne.
'Let's have a small drink' she says alluringly to her office manager. 'And you can tell me all about the new guy, Hanif'
'He's an apprentice' he shrugs annoyed that she'd enquired about someone who wasn't him. 'Do you like him?'
'Just curious' she says nonchalant. 'Have some more. And let's give the new recruit some' she lures tugging Hanif by the sleeve of his navy suit.
'I don't drink' he says raising his hand up to his waist, the sweaty palm towards Aisha to show his categorical commitment to his beliefs.
'So how old are you?'
'Nineteen'. Lie.
'Nineteen!' Aisha echoes.
'I'll be twenty soon' Kie. Hanif says annoyed by Aisha's mocking conduct. 'How old are you?' he enquires daringly.
'Twenty-five' she replies boring her eyes as black as infinite holes in his. 'So are you from KL?'
'Yes' Hanif says moving his glass of iced water from his right to his left hand. A gust of flush rapidly creeps from his legs up to the end of his black, thick hair. Beads of perspiration on his forehead. Aisha looks over.
'Are you alright?'
'Sure' Hanif says wiping his brow.
'Wanna dance?'
'Dance?'. His eyes bulge as he repeats the words.
'I can hear music. Can't you?'
'Yes' Hanif's alarmed now. His perspiration worsens.
'So there's definately music playing. - Let's dance!' Aisha sinuously and slowly rubs herself against him undoing her jacket. A couple of hip movements and the jacket flies on the refreshments table knocking over an empty bottle of Coca Coal and scattering a few crisps as she gracefully holds on to his hips and moves up and down like a sexy accordion. The room is still. No one speaks. No one moves. Everyone's watching Aisha and Hanif who's standing there like a ragged doll with his arms dangling at each side of his body looking down at Aisha and then fixing his stare in front of him wishing the earth would open up and gulp him down. No fuss. Please, ladies and gentlemen, get on with the party. Instead he hears his tummy rumble and his bladder swollen. He sure could use the toilet now. The music's stoppes. He jerks his head as if just awaken from a dream. Silence. Aisha is looking at him. He looks at her.
'I need the toilet' he syas and scatters through the room. His car keys dangling in his pocket. He doesn't need that. How could she do that to him? In front of all those people with an erected penis in his trousers. That's not acceptable. Not acceptable. Did anyone see? No, he doesn't think so. He looks down examing his crotch. No, no they're quite loose. He's been trying so hard to control himself. Control nature. And has failed miserably.
'Oh, sorry'
He wasn't looking and so he bumped into one of the guests who was coming out of the ladies toilet.
'It's okay. It's actually quite dark here'.
The girl is wearing red cherry lipstick, her hair is long, red and glamorously done. Her skin's fair. Not a native.
'You work in the personnel department' he hears himself saying. What's he doing now? Chatting up girls...
'Yes. I saw you in the office. You're the new recruit'
Hanif finds himself walking in the darket recess of the room towards the fire door, open it and sit on the first step.
'Do you smoke?' she asks offering a cigarette from her packer of 555 Smooth Lights. Hanif shakes his head and simulatneously raises his hadn, the palm towards the girl. She puts a cigarette between her red lips and lights up. Hanif is carefully looking at each of the girl's movements. He ogles at her mouth. At that dark slit between her lips. He leans forward staring at the white stick while she places it to her lips sucking it. Slowly the stick changes shape and becomes his finger, his tongue, his penis. His body is now bent in two. His torso fervently onward. His eyes fixed on her.
'What are you doing?' she chuckles.
Hanif doesn't move.
'Hallo?' she taps his shoulder.
'Hi' he says coming out of the trance. 'I was...' he lets his words linger in the air. There's no point in finishing a sentence that started badly in the first place. She wouldn't buy anything he'd say anyway. She's looking at him letting a perplexing smile caress her lips. Now she's the one ogling him. His long fingers. His inviting pout mouth. His almond-like eyes. His impossible-to-hide awkwardness. She leans forward pausing for an infinitesimal second and then kisses his mouth. Their tongues entwine making small lapping sounds. Her hands, under his jacket are battling with the too many, tiny buttons of his shirt. Her strapless dress gives far easier acces and his hands are on her. Her breasts. Her hips. She tears the shirt oepn attacks his attractive ches pushing him sideways against the doorframe then hitting the floor with a thud and a gasp. She moans with pleasure as she inserts his penis inside her and, as she's about to come, he gets to his feet and runs off. He runs to the dim multistorey parking lot and fumbles with his keys. His hands are shaky, sweaty. He drops the keys. Droplets of water drip down from his face. Tears. Sweat. He shouldn't have given in. He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have. What if it comes out. What now? What? Then his hair stands on end when a metallic object rattles on the cement. He turns. 'Who's there?' He gulps and rasps. No one. He returns to the car keys. A shuffle. A soft malicious laughter and a sudden blast of wind strokes his naple. He can feel his blood freezing in his veins as he slowly turns around. The door oepns and a noisy party of four comes stumbling down the stairs. Hanif opens the car door, hastily starts the engine and speeds off, madly beeping the horn down the winding stories and onto the freeway. In all the rush he hans't noticed that a car has stalked him since he left the party. Now in the suburbs, he recognizes the car as the one he saw in the rearview mirror when riding the freeway. He dint' think anything of it at the time but now he begins to worry. Could they be going to the same quarter? He blinks right down his street and sees the car doing the same. His shirt is wet, his neck and face flusing as he drives by his house and goes round and round the block. The car trails behind. Twenty rounds. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. The car signals left and disappear into the obscurity. Was it her? Was it the girl he left behind with her pants down on the verge of perfect climax? Was it her or somebody else? Someone from the party perhaps. That's it! It's begun. The nightmare's begun. They're gonna blackmail him. Threaten to tell his family. He wipes the sweat from his brow and enters the cottage.
'32C Jalan Tun Ismail. Write it down'
The BMW is parked just a few yards away enough for Aisha and Chantal to see Hanif walk with in his apartment and turn on the lights.
'No need. I'll remember. I know the area fairly well. Over there' Aisha saiys pointing at a cluster of houses, 'is where Aunt Fatima used to live. Remember?'
Chantal nods. 'So what are we gonna d to our sweaty, horny teen?'
'I don't know yet. Something really wicked will come to us. In the meantime...' Aisha leans to the side, sporting a big grin, 'let's have some fun'. Her left hand, smooth and manicured with only a hint of basically bare nail polish, moves to the automatic gear lever, the right foot, in a moderately priced black leather sling back, hit the accelerator. The car backs up and the tiers squeal. They're off. Back on the freeway.
Eighty miles.
The hand on the gear lever.
One hundred miles.
A metallic red Volvo sprints by. The BMW rushes in hot pursuit eating to road. The driver looks in the rearview mirro. The BMW cleaqrly in view roaring and smiling at him by means of the glittering, toothed grille. Aisha and Chantal are silently looking ahead at the Volvo that is now picking up speed.
'Want some fun girls?' he sneers. 'You've found your guy!'. His foot hit the accelerator.
One hundred and twenty miles.
He overtakes a black Peugeot with parents and two kids. The kids wave as he and the BMW go by.
One hundred and twenty-five miles.
A van. Anuraag Removals. The guy looks in the rearview mirror.
One hundred and ten miles. The gray metallic car glistens in the sun getting closer and closer. He steers to the left and surpasses the van.
One hundred and twenty.
The road is clear. Only a few sparse cars here and there. He looks in the side mirror. The van is behind him. The van. Only the van. He smiles. 'I've beat you. You damn girls. Big cars. Powerful horses. And they think they can beat a man'. It takes more than a car.
One hudnred miles per hour.
It takes balls. Balls and only... a glimpse in the rearview mirror. There was a sparkle. A glimpse in the rearview mirror and he sees a gray car behind the van trying to overtake it.
One hundred and five.
His eyes are glued to the mirror.
'Where are you? Come on. Come on. Can't pass the van girls?'
The car makes its move. It's on the left inside now. it's a BMW. THe color's different though. It's gray but slightly darker.
'It's not them!' he slams the steering wheel. 'It's not them. I've lost them! Shaken them off!'
So he's given them the slip. Why are you surprised? What a story to boast about with his friends! He deserves a long sip of still water from the half liter bottle that's rolling about on the car mat. He undoes the safety belt. He bows to pick it up, grabs the bottle and takes a swing by bending his head backwards, his eyes to the roof. It's just an instant but it's crucial. The cellular phone rings. He jerks and drops the bottle. Water spills all over. he let go of the steering wheel. The car is on its own. It swerves and hits the guardrail at ninety miles per hour. The impact causes his head to swipe against the windshield. It's a loud, dull sound followed by a crack as if somehting very fragile has just splintered in a hudnred little fragments. The window rays out from his right temple. A blotch of red fluid colors the glass and trickles down the side of his brown face. The driver of a fiery red Ford Escort calls an embulance from his cellular phone. The van removals drifts along in the surreal sunlight and just behind a metallic gray BMW with the radio at a hundred decibel. In it two girls are doubling over with laughter as they cruise down the freeway.
----------
'Hey, you look terrible! Are you alright?'
It's a Tuesday morning at work and Aisha has just spotted Hanif getting himself a cup of coffee from the hot drinks machine. He's not ecstatic by her materialization.
'Tough times' he murmurs, stirring his drink, with his eyes fixed on the Coffeemate tin.
'Really?' Aisha enquires feverishly interested but, then slowing down, and becoming all sweet and understanding. 'Nothing unsalvageable I hope?'. Aisha almost flutters her eyelashes then think otherwise and gives him a tender simle instead.
Hanif almost melts right there and then without knowing exactly why. He feels his knees wobbling and leans on the small stand fr support hoping that Aisha wouldn't notice. She does.
'My cousin's dead'
'I'm sorry' she says genuienly sad.
'Car accident' he adds regretting it soon after.
'Car accident?' Aisha probes. 'What type of accident?'. Her curiosity level now reaching the red light. 'Oh, please tell me' she whines then regain composuer when she notices Hanif giving her a weird, inquisitive glance. 'I've got a thing for car accidents'
'Why?' Hanif turns to face her almost defiant, taken aback. Aisha falters.
'I...I...you know, it's just an interest'. Her black eyes sparkle in the aritificial lights of the office. Her hand, behind her back, groping for something to fiddle with. Nothing. The simple air will have to do.
'Why interesting?'
She bores her eyes into his. Give it up!
There's a long silence in which only Hanif seems to become uncomfortable then Aisha finally speaks. 'Maybe I know him' she says in a whisper.
'I don't think so' Hanif replies totally puzzled.
'How did it happen?'
'Crashed into a guardrail'
For a split second her eyes seem to emit little glittering, pointing stars that transfix his static visage, almost hurting him then she lets go. 'What?'
'Nothing. What car was he driving?'
'Why?' he asks exasperated.
She shrugs. 'I might have seen it on the freeway yesterday. - Happened on te freeway, didn't it?'
He mouths a yes.
'What car was he driving?' she asks once more keen ot satisfy her desire to knwo the full truth. Did they really kill a man? Did they really do it? Tell me, you useless mooron!
'A red Volvo'
Her heart misses a beat then jumps to her throat then back to its origianl place in the middle-left of her chest.
For the rest of the day she fights the urge to call Chantal and scream down the phone at the top of her lungs 'We've killed a man. Is that good or bad?' Can Chantal tell her? She's desperate to know. Is it good or bad? Is that where they wanted to go when they set off on their little errands? And why does she feel the way she feels? Numb. Almost no emotions, only a little discomfort. Is it normal? Does Chantal feel the same? She notices a fluttering feeling in her stomach. Butterflies. An imperceptible trembling of the index finger as she reaches for the keyboard. Fearful and annoyed she gets to her feet pushing the dark red swivel chair back with a thrust of the buttocks then hard on her stiletto sandals making her way to the second kitchen for a glass of water moving past the account section where Hanif is whispering down the phone. Aisha pricks her ears, swings her bum, puts on a fake smile and minces about nearby desks.
'I'm so full of...I'm so...scared'
An unexpected, loud gasp is all Hanif can do to keep himself from breaking down as he firmly closes his eyes. 'I've received a note. - It says, 'We know what you did'. Hanif falls silent.
'So go on' an excited female voice at the other end of the line presses on. 'What did you do?'
'Nothing' says an unconvincing Hanif. 'I did... I might...I...I'm eighteen' he almost supplicates striving to make the woman understand what he's going through.
'Smell this perfume' says an affected Aisha whilst shoving her wrist under Sugram's nose, a perennial aggravated twenty-something who, after wrinkling her nose, sniffs the watery aroma, and then retrieves indifferent.
'It's the thing of this summer' Aisha continues unperturbed, hand on hip, raising her wrist and then letting it dangle in a poof-like manner.
'It's fall now' Sugram points out acidly making Aisha blush.
'Yeah. Well, it's still hot'
'We're in Malaysia. It's always hot!' Sugram bursts becoming increasingly agitated now lowering her eyes and beginning to shuffle the batch of paperwork on the desk which, by pure coincidence, happens to be just before Hanif's.
'I know you're eighteen, Hanif' the woman says then as an afterthought, 'What are you trying to say?'
At the end of the line a bleary eyed Hanif is silent.
'Hanif?'
'I was weak'
'This cherry Lippity Split Lip Gloss is sooo good' Aisha squeals producing a gold tube from which a swirling warm red stick appears.
Samara's heart misses a beat and is now her turn to be silent. 'What do you mean?'
'It leaves your lips sooo soft'
'Mum...' tears choke his words and his courage fails him. His hand returns the receiver to its cradle and Aisha swings back to her desk.
--------------
'He's gone completely mental' Aisha says to a bored-looking, food-repelled Chantal over a large portion of Hot and Spicy Cajun Chicken with extra Spicy Potato Wedges and Dip on the side and Chargrilled Chicken and Vegetables with Rice.
They were guzzling food down at the American restaurant near the Twin Towers where the tourists abounds every days of the year and the modernly decorated fountains gurgled nonstop.
'He's got the note' she continues, 'and with the chase and the death of his cousin he's totally lost it'
Chantal laughs heartily. 'He might try to kill himself or something' she says dippin a wedge and shoving it in her mouth. 'By the way, what did you say in the note?'
'We know what you did. We know where you live. We can track you down anywhere you go. Don't try t hide'
Chantal giggles helplessly and then repeats incredulously, 'We can track you down anywhere?' Aisha laughs with her. 'Who do you think you are, James Bond?'
'I didn't know what else to say' she apologizes.
'It's too long and doesn't sound professional'
'He believes it. That's all it matters'
Aisha is still speaking when Chantal stops agape, a dipped wedge midway between the dish and her mouth before poking Aisha in the forearm causing the chicken to drop onto the plate and splatter her face with Cajun sauce. 'Look who's there!'
Aisha wipes the sauce off her brow and nose. 'Oooooh' she says opening her eyes and so disregarding her saucy nose.
'He looks shit' Chantal notices. 'Pale and all scruffy' she notices as she watches him scurrying through the huge fountain blocks, the tourists sitting on the steps and the locals strolling aobut in their lunch break. 'He looks like he slept in his clothes'
'Tossing and turning more likely' Aisha grins.
'What's he doing here?'
'Getting something to eat?' Aisha suggests ironically. 'What are we gonna do now? I mean after the chase and the note...what's left?'
'Nothing. Let's let him be. - It could really get out of hand if we carry on'.
It wasn't that she was worried about his welfare but, more likely, she didn't want the burden of troubles to upset her routine of laziness and binge eating.
'Oh, come on' Aisha pleads. 'I'm just warming up. - It gives me something to think about'
Chantal chuckles. 'You don't have anything else to think about'
'Do you?' Aisha shoots back.
'I don't think about him at all. - I don't care either way'
'Yeah. Thinking is energy consuming. - Here, have another wedge'
------------
'Meet me at work around six o'clock' Aisha is saying over the phone to a sleepy Chantal. 'I saw him this morning in the kitchen adding sugar to his coffee. His hand was shaking, really trembling. The second spoonful didn't make it even close to the cup'
Chantla isn't amused. 'I think we should let him be now. He's clearly on edge...'
'Yeah, like a cat on hot bricks' Aisha cuts in. 'We're the hot bricks. - I left a note on his desk'
'You're crazy!' Chantla erupts as suddenly as a dormant volcano. 'What if someone saw you, what if...'
'No one saw me' Aisha trise to calm her down.
'He'll now know that it's someone from the firm'
'He won't. The note says, 'We know where you work'
'And what dows it mean? It's just a repetition of the previous ntoe'
'It's made him even jumpier'
'It isn't funny any more, Aisha!'
'One last time then we move on to somebody else. -Come on. Pleeeaaase'
Chantal is deeply unsure and she shakes her head whilst holding the receiver but her answer contradicts her feelings, 'At six'
-----------------
They waited for him in the multistory parking lot just like they did at the party then followed him through the busy streets of KL and onto the freeway.
'Slow down. What are you doing?' Chantal admonishes preoccupied by the madding grin on her best friend's face.
One hundred and twenty-five.
The piercing sound of police sirens sends the girls' adrenalin spinning through their system as Hanif unwind slighlty hoping that the police will finally catch up with them.
'Slow down. The police!'
Aisha doesn't even hear her. She's on a different airwave now.
Hanif picks up speed seeing that the police is unable to stop them and the BMW is dangerously behind him, almost bumper to bumper. His hands on the wheel are quivering. He holds on to it tight.
A van in front of Hanif and a couple of cars on the left. He has to slow down. The BMW breaks.
'Jesus Christ, Aishaaaa!'
The tires squeals. A light bump. The Renault Megane jerks. Hanif looks in the rearview mirror and recognizes the girl. Why? is the only question that comes to his mind. The police are closing in. Two cars on each side. An opening ahead. Aisha hits the accelerator sending little specks of dust flying in the air. A faint smell of burnt tire. The chase is up once again. The police are in hot pursuit. Hanif rests for a couple of minutes then drives off in the evening flow of convertibles, coupes, sedans, sports cars and station wagons.
The BMW breaks then turns ledt towards Wilayah Persekutuan. It's an old trick and her favorite one. The police fall for it.
On Route 1 back to KL Chantal is screaming her head off. 'You're crazy. The police are on us. I want to get off' she says yanking at the handle.
'Don't be stupid'
Chantal is in hysterics. 'Slow down. I want to get OFF'
'Hey, look who's in front of us'
Chantal looks up, eyes out on stalks. 'Let him go. LET HIM GO'
Ninety miles per hour.
Pass the National Bank Money Museum. The National Palace. Pantai Valley. Hanif's heartbeat is pulsating madly in his ears.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Towards Selangor. On the Federal Highway.
Pulsating madly in his mind.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His right temple throbs visibly.
His vision blurs.
Hanif shakes his head.
One hundred and thirty-five miles per hour.
A cement bridge ahead taking in all the six lanes.
The car swerves to the right.
One hundred and forty miles per hour.
'Why's he going so fast? - What's he doing? Jesus Christ, Aisha. Let him go. Let him go'
The bridge is getting closer and closer. Gray cement nearing his window shield.
Closer and closer.
One hundred and forty-five miles per hour.
Hanif closes his eyes.
Chantal places her hands over her mouth in horror. Aisha watches. No emotions. No sensations. Nothing.
In the distance the police sirens are wailing. Aisha hits on the acceleratior and the BMW disappears down the freeway.