one more draft…

“Look, Gerry,” Kimo said, “Just because you’re a lousy picker doesn’t mean the rest of us have to suffer, too.” He leaned his seat back slightly, shifting his small frame to the new position.

“Christ!” Gerry snapped, one hand gripping the wheel, the other flailing angrily in the air. His meaty paw took up most of Kimo’s view as it floundered in front of him. “How many times you gonna screw with that thing? Just pick a spot and stick with it!”

Kimo simply turned his narrow eyes slowly towards Gerry as he turned the density knob on the side of the seat to give it more cushion. “Re-lax,” he said. “We’re stuck in this thing for what,” he looked out the windows at the rush hour traffic idling everywhere around them. The exit sign for the Mass Pike stood a few yards away, indicating that there were still two miles to go before the tolls. “An hour and a half? Two hours? I want to be comfortable. Especially if-“

The car suddenly lurched a foot to the left as Gerry wrenched the wheel, forced the nose of his six-year old Honda Accord into the passing lane behind a shining eggshell blue, twenty-two foot, Ford Galactic. Kimo, with barely a twitch of the eyes, grabbed hold of his seat harness with one hand, and one of the four safety handles surrounding the passenger seat with the other. The usual horns blared and someone even had their window open because the two men could make out a hoarse curse between the screech of tires and the cannonade of horns.

Gerry was swiveling his head in all directions as he inched the car into the new-found space. “You hear that? Where is he?” He swung a heavy arm around behind Kimo’s seat to leverage himself around to view the other side of the car. “Gotta be nuts to have his window open in this weather. Radio said UV hit 14 today.” He swung his head around again before giving up. “Askin’ for cancer is all. Still,” he said, turning a smirk on Kimo, “God bless Boston, though, eh?!” He looked back out into the traffic and slapped the horn twice as he kept his car within a foot of the SUV in front of them. “Who picks that? Why not just get it in pink and write ‘fairy’ on it?! Come on!”

Kimo reached to the control panel between them and tapped a button. “Look, if you’re going to keep this up, then I’m watching some TV.” His sun visor flipped down, and the four-by-ten flat screen on its back snapped to life.

An unseen female announcer spoke as images of food flashed across the screen. “From regular fries, to our world-famous cheeseburger, there’s so much to choose from on our classic ten-euro menu. So come on in and take your pick today!”

“I’m starving!” Gerry said. “I didn’t get a chance for lunch today cause we’re freakin’ flat out for Christmas.” He grunted. “Man, I cannot wait till New Year’s.”

Kimo lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you have a date.”

“Har di har har. No, me an’ Nate and Telly are paintin’ the town. Gonna do it right for once.” Gerry thumped the steering wheel and the car shook. “Not gettin’ dragged around again on some blind date with some freak show.” Kimo opened his mouth to speak but Gerry wagged a hammy finger at him. “And NO. I am not spending the night jerking off with some virtual-girl, either. Like some losers I know.”

Kimo shrugged and switched through the channels. “Say what you want, Gerry. Didi’s great. And we’ve been running live cams for a week, now.” He paused to watch another commercial. Clips from last year’s Global Rugby Origins game were selling this year’s upcoming event. The tagline ‘No stopping! No pads! No fear!’ flashed across the screen as Australia’s Gregory Judd tore South America’s Haedi SanPaolo to the ground with Haedi’s arm pointing out at a decidedly wrong angle. “Ouch,” Kimo said, wincing. “Why do they have to keep showing that part?”

“Oh no you don’t,” growled Gerry, as the driver of a luminescent silver Jaguar in the next lane turned his head towards them, followed by his front wheels. Gerry shoved hard into the horn and clutched the car up to graze the Galactic’s rear bumper. A proximity warning symbol flashed in the lower corner of the windshield, and a soft female voice spoke. “Warn-“

“Shut up!” Gerry snapped.

“-ing. The vehicle is-”

“Car! Disable all warnings!”

“-about to- Warnings disabled. All warnings will be reset automatically when the vehicle is re-started.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gerry and the Jaguar’s driver gave each other the finger, then Gerry elbowed Kimo. “At least that crap’s real,” he said, pointing to the end of the rugby commercial. “Real people doing real stuff. Stupid stuff, sure, but real stuff. Your girl there, she’s what, number eight? Nine? How many this year? I mean, come on, you’ve got one nearly every freakin’ month!”

Kimo grinned. “Yeah, well…yeah, that’s about right. But at least I’m out there. I’m looking for love, not hiding in some hole in the wall hoping it’ll go somewhere else and shoot itself.”

“That’s not the point,” Gerry said. “I mean, what are you out there looking for? It’s all a sham. It’s a lie. It’s like diamonds being valuable. Come on!! DeBeers ought to be shot for stockpiling all that crap out there and then selling it as if it was going out of style.” Gerry started flailing his hand again as he got worked up. “And there in on this thing too! Funding songs about diamonds and love and crap like that.”

“Girls do love diamonds, though,” Kimo said, changing channels.

Gerry spluttered. “Only because everybody tells them they should! It’s everywhere! Look, every single one of the nuts I’ve dated from the beginning was screwed up. My sister got ditched by that loser husband of hers after he got that big job.” He turned to Kimo, pointing firmly. “Do you know anyone who’s only been married once? I don’t.”

Kimo swatted tiredly at the big hand. “People have to keep trying, Gerry. Otherwise what’s the point.”

Gerry looked away and back again. “What’s the point? Half of those girls you’ve met on the net were freaks using fake pictures and crap, and there’s the ones who turned out to be teenage boys just trying to yank your chain. Oh, and what about your last two girls who were actually the same lady using different identities from that freakin’ game!? You were dating a freakin’ computer game! What’s the point of that?!”

“They were both pretty hot, though,” Kimo said, nodding his head and flipping through more commercials. “You gotta admit that.”

Gerry threw his hands up, hitting the roof of the car with a double thump. “Ow! Dammit! Oh!” He slapped his hands onto the steering wheel and stomped on the gas then the brake to make up sudden two feet gap between the cars. “What I gotta admit,” he said, “is that any idiot can grab copies of gorgeous babes off the net. What stumps me is that everyone keeps falling for it.”

Kimo sighed, smiling, then put on an exaggerated accent, “Ah, l’amour.”

“L’amour, my butt,” Gerry said. “If that’s all you-“

“How about this, then?” Kimo said, pointing to the screen.

An iridescent orange-peach sunset filled a sky over a blonde beach. A single palm tree stood in silhouette, curving overhead. “Have you been missing something,” a deep-throated female voice asked.

“Give me a break,” Gerry huffed. “You can’t be ser-“

Kimo shushed him. “Just wait a sec.”

The scene faded to close-up of waves lapping softly at the shore. The camera moved to take in a suntanned pair of men’s feet standing at the edge of the water, just out of reach of the waves. “Have you been looking for that missing piece that would make your puzzle complete,” the unknown seductress asked. “How long have you been waiting for that perfect someone?” The voice grew slightly deeper, slightly more urgent, as the waves slowly fell back, further and further from the feet. “There are more than eight billion people on this planet alone. How are you supposed to have the time to find your soul mate, the right person for you? We can help you.”

“Come ON,” Gerry gasped. “This is such-“

Kimo waved a hand.

The camera dropped angle slightly, and a pair of petite suntanned female feet walked into view, splashing slightly in the waves that now reached back up to the man’s feet. “Our goal is to help you find your perfect match. Our job,” the woman’s feet splashed to a stop facing the man’s, then lifted up onto their toes and leaned in, “is your happiness.”

“Oh yeah, whatever.”

Kimo ignored him, watching the screen intently.

The voiceover changed to a different voice, lighter, brighter, as the web address glowed on the screen. “Stop by our website at Soul Match dot com and remember, you can find that perfect someone. Just ask these happy couples.” A series of couples appeared on the screen in various states of laughter and smiles, backed by another iridescent sunset. As each one appeared, a month and year would appear below them, preceded by ‘Mr. and Mrs.’

“And don’t forget,” the happy voice chimed in again, “one successful couple each month receives our world-class Lifetime of Love package, including a new home on the secluded and seductive DisneyAdult-owned island of Cuba, surrounded, but not too closely,” the wink of her unseen eye could be heard in her voice, “with the other successful soul matches.”

“There!” Kimo said, triumphantly. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life stuck in the elevators at FountainHead trying to get to my room.”

“What!?” Gerry’s eyes bugged out. “You actually believe that crock? It’s like that movie, what was it, ‘The Running Man’, meets the freakin’ ‘Dating Game’!” Coarse laughter shook his body and the car rocked slightly in distress. “You gotta be kidding me, Kimo. I thought you had half a brain in there somewhere. That’s all a crock!”

“Hey,” Kimo said, closing his eyes and raising a hand in defense, “It’s a long shot, yeah, of course it is. But it beats paying someone else to win the lottery every week. And it beats spending every night alone. So maybe Didi’s not the one. And maybe this isn’t the best way to have a relationship.” He flicked the visor television off. “But maybe she is the one. And the web is the only way to meet anyone now, anyway. I haven’t got enough time in a day to be going out every night, too. I’m forty-eight, Gerry. And if I don’t keep trying, I’ll be alone for probably another,” he thought for a moment, “sixty years. Sixty years! And that’s on the early side. What’s the point of long life if I spend every single day of it stuck here,” he waved his hand at the windows, “in traffic for four or five hours.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against the window pane. “Every single day.”

“Oh, please,” Gerry snapped, knocking the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “This is some mid-life crisis thing. I should have known! Hey! Dammit!” He slammed on the horn as the Jaguar squeezed its nose into their lane ahead of the Honda. “Bastard!”

“Beats being alone,” Kimo said softly, watching the Mass Pike sign inch its way towards them. A hospital helicopter lifted above the traffic a quarter of a mile down, rising behind the sign and banking back towards the car and then over them. Another rescue helicopter was descending to another crash site, probably just before or after the tolls. “Beats being alone.”

Gerry’s eyebrows knit as he looked quickly at his companion. Kimo continued to stare out the window. Gerry turned back to driving. The car rolled slowly on in relative silence amidst the horns, the odd screech of tires, and the steadily growing sound of emergency sirens. Gerry stretched his seat belt away from him and shifted his bulk in his seat. He looked back at his friend who had not moved.

Gerry slapped Kimo’s thin leg. “Love is dead,” Gerry barked, laughing too loudly in the odd quiet of the car. He coughed again and dropped his voice. “That’s all. No big deal. We just accept it and it’ll all go a lot easier.” He looked sideways at Kimo. “Yep. Just keep going on. It’s all we can do. Keep on moving.”

Kimo’s back bent slightly as he sighed deeply. He rolled back from the window and adjusted his seat to full-recline. Lying back, he draped an arm over his eyes.

Gerry nodded at him, then to himself. “Yep. Just keep on going,” he murmured.

The Ford in front of them came to a stop, and Gerry stopped short, rocking the car, and leaving himself almost two feet to maneuver as he watched the other lane continue to roll by. He gripped the wheel tightly, watching the cars pass, waiting for the opening. A couple of black Cadillacs slid by, then came the opening, practically a chasm between the end of the second Cadillac and the front of the little navy blue Saturn that followed.

Gerry yanked the Honda into the hole and shouted, “Yeah!” The space was big enough for him to get the entire car into while the line was still moving. “Yeah, that’s the stuff! Somebody was sleeping!” He grinned at Kimo who kept his arm over his eyes. Gerry’s grin faded. He grunted to himself. He looked in the rear-view mirror to make sure the Saturn didn’t ram him from behind in anger at the lost space. It was as he looked up that he noticed that he hadn’t heard any new horns squealing in protest.

In the Saturn, a couple were talking to one another. The woman in the passenger seat was laughing softly. Her cheeks were bright and full, and her eyes crinkled in laughter lines as her hair shook slightly. She made a remark and the man in the driver’s seat nodded, grinning, as he watched out the front window. He leaned forward into the windshield and looked up to the sky, squinting. He spoke some more as he leaned back and the woman nodded. She patted him on the arm and crooked a finger at him as she turned towards him. He looked back in surprise, then smiled and cupped her chin in his hand as they kissed softly. Then she ruffled his hair and sat back in her seat, leaving her hand resting on his shoulder and playing with his earlobe. She pointed out the window up into the air, and the man bent her way to look. Gerry leaned over Kimo and saw two birds circling in the distance.

When Gerry looked back, he saw the man’s mouth open wide as he bent his head away quickly, swatting at her hand by his head and rubbing his ear hard as he grinned, saying something to her. She was laughing again.

Gerry slowed the Honda down slightly to match the Saturn. The lane was moving steadily. “Kimo,” he said, nudging his friend without looking down.

Kimo, his eyes and lips drawn together slightly, lifted his arm and looked up at Gerry. “Huh?” He lifted up on one shoulder as Gerry thumbed in the direction of the car behind them.

Suddenly Gerry cursed and the Honda rocked Kimo as the Honda slammed to a stop and Gerry pounded heavily on the horn. Kimo looked up front automatically, but the red Dodge Ram that was cutting in front of them was a good eight or ten feet ahead of them.

Gerry cursed again. and Kimo looked at Gerry to say something, but saw that Gerry was staring out the rear window. Kimo turned back to see the silver Jaguar jerking to a stop, halfway into the lane. Gerry was still honking the horn with one hand while he gave the Jaguar driver the finger again. The Jaguar driver, responded with his own horn, as well as clearly shouting at him in silent fury, waving and pointing.

“Gerry, what are you doing?!” Kim said, looking around and reaching for the nearest safety grips. “What’s-“

“That jerk just cut –” Gerry cut himself short. He looked at Kimo, then back at the Jaguar driver. More horns were blaring now, from every direction. Two more cars shot in front of them as they sat there. “Ah, forget it,” he sighed, turning round to the front and slumping into his seat. He spoke slowly as he edged started the car forward again. “Just forget the whole damn thing.”

Five yards on, the traffic stopped again. “Aw, C’mon!” Gerry roared, pounding his steering wheel. “Let’s get going!”