Sculpting Revenge: Excerpt

Chapter 1

“Happy New Year!”

Everyone else in the room shouted. But Dave just mumbled. Instinctively he looked to his right, half-expecting Arianna to show up just as she had the previous year. Then he turned back to his almost-empty glass of beer. His friends asked him to join in with them a few times, then accepted defeat and left Dave to his thoughts. Ever since his last, unceremonious, date with Arianna, Dave had been searching for ways to reach her. He‘d been rehearsing: apologies, flatteries, flirts, excuses, anything to keep Arianna with him. He’d neither asked for Arianna’s address or email, nor connected with her on social media. In the final analysis, though, any and all success felt empty without her.

Over the past few months, he’d been drafting an email to her. He’d also located her email address, but he still couldn’t work up enough courage to push the ‘Send’ button. Dave emptied the last few drops of beer from his glass and put the glass down beside his phone; touched his phone to stop it going to sleep. Maybe she was still angry with him or – worse – she’d totally forgotten about him. After all, Arianna had his number. If she called him now, he wouldn’t have to send that email. He could just say to her all those things he’d put into the email. On the other hand, she might not have forgotten him; she just might be waiting for him to apologize. His brain fought a yes-no battle over pressing ‘Send’. He swiped his finger over the screen once again, keeping the phone alive. His brain was getting tired. He couldn’t construct any more arguments, either in favor or against sending the email. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together. He opened his eyes and touched the phone. It displayed 12:07 PM in a big font in the middle and January 1, 2018 in a smaller font below that. Dave typed in his password. Without any more thought, he pushed ‘Send’ and let out a sigh of relief. He chuckled looking at his phone. His mind was numb.

Against the wishes of his friends at the party, Dave left for home soon after. The D.C. streets were dark and empty. New Year’s partygoers were still at their parties and non-party goers were comfortably tucked in their beds. The cops were warming up to their first task of the New Year –catching miscreants and drunk drivers. Dave did not like driving inebriated, as he wanted to avoid cops. Although Dave did not usually drink much, tonight his alcohol level was above the legal limit. He droveI-66 towards Virginia.

"Hey Jude!..." was playing. Not the Beatles, but Elvis was singing. Dave’s thoughts had settled. He was relieved after months of anguish after sending the email. A car passed by on his right. Dave did not pay attention. He was singing with Elvis. He was Elvis. Ah, the New Year, he thought. It’s all in place. Any minute he’d be getting a reply from Arianna. And his work for the past six years was about to bear fruit–immense success. He’d already signed the deal. Unlike so many who had tried before, Dave was millimeters away from success, success without much risk. Many had failed. In those six years, Dave himself had been responsible for the failure of many. The world is full of cutthroat competition, he thought. In order for him to win, others had to lose. That was the way it worked. Lost in his thoughts and Elvis’s charisma, Dave wasn’t aware that a car had been following him for the last 10 minutes. He sang "Suspicious mind..." even louder.

Bright lights in the rearview mirror snapped Dave awake from his trance. A cop car was flashing its lights behind him. Dave wasn’t too disturbed. He was in too much of a good mood to fear the cops. He slowed down, drove to the right shoulder and stopped. As he’d been trained, he kept his hands on the steering wheel. Waiting for the cop to get out of his car and approach him, Dave’s brain, in calculator mode, quickly started working out why he’d been pulled over. Perhaps, he had been driving 4 or 5 miles above the speed limit. Surely, the cops didn’t have time to stop people driving 5 miles over the limit. Could it be a random check for alcohol? If that was the case, Dave was confident. He’d drunk four beers total and the last one...more than an hour ago, except for those last few drops. Four beers would not affect his judgment or motor skills. He could easily walk in a straight line, if asked to. He saw a beam of light. It was getting closer in the rearview mirror. Elvis was still singing. To make a good impression, Dave switched off the music.

A knock on the window prompted him to lower it. The flashlight pointed at Dave’s face, into his eyes, blinding him. Dave could not see the cop.

“Hello officer, could you please lower the light a little? It hurts my eyes.”

The cop lowered the light. As his eyes adjusted, Dave saw the cop’s face. Dave’s eyes lit up, his back muscles relaxed, his feet stretched and he laughed.

“Oh! It’s you. Didn’t you recognize my car?” Dave took his left hand off the wheel, rested it on the driver’s side door, and looked up at the cop. “Just because you know me, that doesn’t mean you don’t have to say your disclosure. I know you’re recording me. I’m not drunk and I wasn’t speeding. I guess now you want to see my license, hmm?” A car zoomed past. Dave looked up at the cop, pointing ahead. “See, he’s speeding. Instead of wasting time with me, you should go after him.”

The cop stared at Dave with an inanimate face. While he was speaking, Dave had not followed the cop’s right hand. Before Dave could understand what was happening, the cop took out his gun. Its safety clasp was off. The cop pointed his gun at Dave and shot, right through Dave’s heart.

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