Chapter 10
A couple minutes later, things were mostly settled. No one was pressing charges. No one was going to jail. And no one was telling me anything. When the police officers returned to their cruiser, the big guy turned and started stalking toward his own vehicle.
Neither Jake, nor Trey, moved. They weren't the only ones. Around us, the crowd was still waiting. For what, I had no idea.
Shivering in the cool morning air, I glanced toward Jake's car. "What are we waiting for?" I asked.
"Maybe nothing," Jake said. "But you never know."
Trey lifted his video recorder and aimed it toward the stranger. As we all watched, the guy reached out to tug on the driver's side door. Nothing happened. With a string of profanity, the guy tugged harder. The door still didn't budge. He pressed his face to the glass and peered inside.
"Fuck!" he yelled. He stalked around to the passenger's side door and gave it a tug. Again, nothing happened. Muttering to himself, he circled back to the driver's side. He glanced in our direction. When he saw us looking, he yelled out, "Get the fuck out of here!"
Next to me, Jake chuckled. "You couldn't make this shit up," he said.
I glanced toward the stranger. "What do you mean?"
Jake shook his head. "The dumb-shit locked his keys in the car."
The guy tried his door again, and then turned to glare in our direction. When he spotted Trey's video-recorder, he did a double-take. "That thing better not be on!" the guy hollered.
When Trey gave him a big thumbs-up, the guy made a guttural sound low in his throat. He stalked to the front of his vehicle and ripped off the hood ornament. He stalked back to the driver's side window, and with a primal scream, he hauled back his fist, ornament and all, and slammed it into the glass.
The glass shattered. His car alarm blared to life. And on the sidewalk, the crowd gave a rowdy cheer. The guy reached in through the shattered window and yanked out his keys. He hit a button on the remote, and the alarm grew silent. He hit the keyless again, wrenched open the door, and climbed inside.
From his newly claimed spot in the driver's seat, the guy leaned his head out the broken window and called out, "This ain't over!"
Jake chuckled. "I sure as hell hope not."
As we watched, the guy's car squealed into reverse. It did a sloppy U-turn, jumping the curb just before it rejoined traffic. Finally, it disappeared from sight. I turned to Jake. "So whowasthat guy?"
"You didn't recognize him?" Jake asked.
"Well, he sort of looked familiar., but…" I let my words trail off. My best guess sounded so unlikely, I didn't want to say it.
"You a sports fan?" Jake asked.
I shook my head. "Not really."
"That," Trey said, "is Dirk Leonard.
"Dirk?" I said. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Trey said, "but wanna know what he likes to be called?"
"What?" I asked.
Trey grinned. "The Chainsaw."
Holy crap. Itwashim. "You're kidding," I said.
Next to me, Jake spoke. "Nope."
"Yeah, but the guy's a royal dick," Trey said. "Everyone hates him. Even the fans. It's kind of pathetic, actually. Shitty driver, too."
I glanced toward Jake's car. The spoiler was shattered, and the trunk, which had been all sleek lines earlier, was looking more like a crumpled soda can. I turned to Jake. "So what happened?" I asked. "I mean, was it just a random accident?"
"Notthatrandom," Jake said. "Long story."
