Chapter 1 - Susan driving call with Jimmy, then call from Michelle

Susan had no idea that in as little as twelve hours she would hold a gun to a strangers head and have every intention of pulling the trigger. 

Susan had always considered herself a pacifist, she loathed confrontation. At the first sign of argument she was quick to back down. But by nightfall she was to learn just how far a mother would go to protect her daughter.  

As she inched along in backed up traffic murder was far from her mind. On the contrary, her every thought was consumed by the exceedingly happy thought that Lucy is flying in tonight!

Lucy, her eleven year old daughter lived with her father in Las Vegas. Susan hated that she had lost the custody battle when they separated all those years ago. She understood why the judge had ruled in his favour, he had, after all, filed for divorce on the grounds that Susan was a habitual narcotic user.

And she was. Was being the key word. Now, she is no longer. Susan glanced down from the glacially moving traffic to the crook of her left arm. The faded scars of the self-destructive ritual of injecting heroin    

Traffic was bad, bumper to bumper as far as the eye could see. As she pressed the brake for the hundredth time in as many seconds her sight drifted to the silhouette of an airplane as it came in to land at X airport, just X distance away. 

Normally, the sight of a plane landing induced a feeling of sadness for Susan. It reminded her how far away she was from Lucy, her daughter. But not today, today it made her feel good, knowing that at 5:35am  Lucy was scheduled to be on a plane landing at that very airport, here to stay for two whole weeks. 

Susan hated that Lucy lived with her father, Vincent, in Vegas. But she didn't resent him for having full custody of their daughter. She knew as well as anyone that it was best for Lucy, or rather, it had been best for her. Now that Susan had been clean and dry for well over a year, her maternal instinct grew stronger with every passing day. Susan's sight drifted to the crease of her left arm. A chill raced her spine at the thought of the amount of needles she had injected there. 

Never again. She reminded herself, but she didn't need to, it was no longer a bodily desire, in fact now the opposite was true, where once there had been an insatiable appetite for the instant gratification of inebriates, it was now replaced by a repulsion far stronger than any craving had ever been. 

The upbeat music that played from her cell phone suddenly ceased and was replaced with a standard issue ringtone. She glanced from the stagnant traffic to the caller ID.

Jimmy? Why the hell is Jimmy calling me on my day off?

Susan let it ring, not wanting to talk to her boss on her day off. Any conversation with Jimmy made her feel bad. He was one of those guys, someone whom simply being in their presence made you feel rotten. He had permanent bad breath, wore clothes two sizes two large for his wiry frame and had the single most intense disposition Susan had ever encountered in another human being, high or otherwise. 

The call kept ringing. The persistent melody of the ringtone grating her traffic tense nerves. Susan knew better than rejecting the call and sending it to voicemail. To do that would only confirm to Jimmy that she saw him calling and specifically did not answer. That would only serve to antagonise him unnecessarily. The only thing to do was to wait him out. Which she did. Finally, the call stopped ringing and her music returned, but it was a short lived reprieve, as only seconds later the music again ceased and the shrill ringtone announcing Jimmy's intrusion into her life filled the air. 

Unable to endure another twenty or thirty seconds of that inane melody before the call redirected to voice mail, Susan tapped the call answer button and flicked her cell onto speaker phone.

'Hey, Jimmy, how you doing?'

'How am I doing? I’ve got bookings coming out of my ass and no chef, how the hell do you think I am? You’re supposed to be here like ten minutes ago. where the hell are ya?'

What ever positive vibe there was that permeated from Lucy's imminent arrival vanished in a flash. A knot formed in Susan's stomach. These were not words she wanted to hear.

'I’m not rostered tonight. My daughter’s flying in on the red-eye in the morning. I swapped it with Julio so I could have a good sleep before picking her up.'

'Julio’s not here and it’s your shift, if you want to keep your job, get here now.'

Before Susan could reply Jimmuy yelled at someone she could not see and then abruptly hung up the phone. The call ended and the upbeat music returned, but now, it didn't sound so good. Susan closed the music app and cursed Julio under her breath. 

I knew I couldn't trust him to remember. 

Susan was even more annoyed by the fact that just an hour ago she had almost called him to remind him of the shift, but had decided against it as she didn't want to seem rude by implying he might forget. She knew better now. But now, it was too late. With the traffic the way it was, Susan was at least a twenty minute drive from the restaurant. 

She glanced over her shoulder at the back seat, among the parma-mess she spotted her work clothes. At least I won't have to work a full shift in my normal clothes. What ever small blessing that is, I'll take it. 

In that same glance back Susan's sight fell upon a large plastic spaceship, a children's toy she had purchased earlier in the day. Just one of dozens of Christmas presents she had bought for Lucy. Susan was surprised when Lucy had not so subtly let it be known that she wanted this space-ship in her life. What on earth does my daughter want with a spaceship? Susan had thought at the time. The present request made more sense when she learned that the ship is a miniature replica from Lucy's latest favourite TV show. The only thing that made Susan worried was that Lucy would very likely have moved on from the show, onto some new fleeting fad by the time Christmas rolled around, but when she found the toy on sale today she figured she could take the chance. Even if Lucy didn't want it, she could exchange it for what ever the latest flavour of the month was. 

Susan punched the car horn, as though somehow this impotent act might miraculously open up an empty lane just for her that would allow an uninterrupted drive to work. Unsurprisingly, it did nothing more than annoy the driver of the car in front of her.

Damn Julio, I will kill him when I see him. 

Susan dialled Julio from her cell, but it didn't even ring, it went straight to voicemail. His rough, thirty-a-day voice filled the cabin of her car.   

'Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyy, this is Julio, don’t leave a message, send a text like a normal person. I don’t even know why I have voicemail - beeeep.'

A thousand abusive messages crossed Susan's tongue but instead she let out a deep sigh and hung up. 

What's the use of yelling at him? It's not going to change anything. He's not shown up, and Jimmy is angry as hell with me. It's my job that's on the line right now, not Julio's.

Susan wound down her window, took several deep breaths of air and felt immediately calmer despite inhaling at least fifty percent car exhaust fumes. She was pleased to note that her anger levels were checked and in control. Anger management was a major problem in Susan's life when she was using and drinking. She had been diagnosed as bi-polar and had spent over a decade battling extreme oscillations in her mood.

But that was then, now I'm in control. Now I get angry, but now I don't react to it. Not in the same destructive way.

The traffic inched forward, only adding to her frustration, but she continued to breathe and continued to keep her annoyance in check. Susan figured that calming music might help to maintain her zen-state so she grabbed her cell and flicked through her music app for a classical music mix. But before she could find anything suitable her cell phone again chimed with an incoming ringtone. The caller ID this time read Michelle Gladwell (Sponsor).

All that which consumed Susan in that instant, both good and bad, vanished as she answered the call. Susan spoke first, cooly, calmly, directly. A sincere worry in her voice.

'Michelle, are you okay?'

Only Michelle's faint breaths could be heard on the line. It was as though the temperature in the car dropped a dozen degrees in a flash. Susan wound her window up quickly, creating an aural insulation. Now with the dead air in the cabin and the outside ambience removed, Susan heard Michelle's faint sobbing. 

'Michelle, talk to me, can you hear me?'

Another beat, another sob, then, 'Yeah, I'm here.'

Susan let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. 'Where are you, what's going on?'

Michelle cleared her throat, took a deep breath then spoke so very quietly it was impossible to hear what she said. It came across as nothing more than garble.  

'You need to say that for me again Michelle, but louder, can you do that for me?'

Michelle spoke up, much clearer this time. This time there was no mistaking what she said. 

'I think I’m going to use. 'Those five words were like a sledge hammer to Susan's spine. Her fingers went numb, her breathing quickened.  

She spoke defiantly, without hesitation.

'No, you’re not. Where are you?' Susan said adamantly.

There was another beat of silence, then Susan prompted, 'Tell me where you are Michelle.'

Michelle's voice came weakly down the line,

'Um, Cafe-Nate, I think it’s called, by the airport, you know it?'

Susan nodded to herself. She knew it, she knew it too well. Cafe-Nate was situated on a forgotten back alley four blocks from X airport. It was a 24 hour cafe that had last been cleaned in 1971, or so it smelt. It was a place that you only ever went to when everything else was either too far away or shut. Evidently, Michelle felt that low right now.

'I know it. I'll be there in five minutes. Wait for me there. Don't do anything stupid.'

Michelle spoke quickly, more quietly now, 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Good, just hang tight. We'll get through this together.' 

An awkward silence filled the dead air of Susan's cabin.

'What is it?' Susan asked.

Still there was more silence. Something was off with Michelle and it didn't take Susan long to guess what. 

'You've already made the call, haven't you?'

Michelle broke into tears and confessed weakly, 'Yes.'

Susan knew it was a race against time to save her sponsor from herself. It all came down to whoever got to her first, Susan, or Michelle's dealer.

'Stay on the line with me, what ever you do, do not hang up, I'll be with you in less than five minutes.'

Now the glacially moving traffic became a prison. Susan eyed the road going in the opposite direction, there was less than half the traffic over there, moving fluidly. 

A six inch tall concrete median line delineated both arteries of traffic. Susan checked her rearview mirror, side mirror, then jammed the steering wheel around and punched the gas, launching her car out of this lane of traffic, over that median strip and safely into the opposite lane of traffic where she opened up the engine with all the gas it could handle, burning rubber as she picked up speed. 

Hold on Michelle, don't do anything stupid.

Susan thought as she saw a text message come up on her cell from Jimmy that read: Where the hell are you? Get your arse to work right now or so help me god you're fired!

Susan ignored the text as she kept the gas to the floor, headed toward Cafe-Nate and Michelle.