"WHAT A NIGHTMARE. Traffic is stalled for blocks.”
There was another mile to the Interstate, where they would be on the road for half an hour, and Reuben’s CRV had travelled a foot of blacktop in ten minutes. It being early October, the virgin fall had yet to grant Reg his preferred cooler temperatures. But he took solace that the summer scorch was in his rear-view mirror. Thanks to global warming, sixty degrees with a medium headwind would have to suffice.
The masses pined for beach weather. His sister loved it. Reg could never get past the clingy sweat, sweltering heat, suffocating air, and taking of two steps and feeling like you wanted to pass out.
Air conditioning was nice if you could afford it, but you couldn’t stay inside all day. You had to come out eventually. That is when unforgiving yellow death compressed on you like a Ferrari piston, until you prayed to the gods of winter for deliverance.
He glanced over at Reuben for agreement, as if his thoughts were spoken aloud, and not just inside his head. Reuben was swept up in I-pod heaven. From the teeny-bopping, rhythmic beats blaring through the headphones, it was the kind of music his girls would listen to.
"Hey,” Reg tried to shout over the music, "when did you get an I-pod?”
Reuben removed his left ear bud. "Huh?"
"I said, when did you get and I-pod?”
"Not mine. Gloria and I bought it for little Maria’s birthday, last week."
"Could have fooled me. Looked like yours a minute ago."
"I’m testing to see if the songs loaded properly."
"Suuure, you're right."
"Just drive," Reuben said, re-inserting his ear piece. "WE NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS TRAFFIC.”
Reg kept his eyes on Reuben, who was mouthing the words to his daughter’s songs on her I-pod. It wasn't as if there was anything else to look at besides the bumper sticker on the car ahead of them—I brake for BOOBS.
When not huddled in a passenger seat with his knees kissing glove compartment doors, Reuben stood 6'2. He was chunky around the middle, chiseled up top, perpetually clean shaven, and had wavy, creamy hair. A superman curl hung in the middle of his forehead. Reg wondered if the curl is where his power came from. His Puerto Rican partner could bench press four hundred pounds. Reg could only get as high as two-fifty.
He wished nothing but happiness for Reuben and his wife, Gloria. But especially Gloria. Prior to Reuben, most of her involvements seemed to have one theme in common. They liked to swing at the air and sometimes Gloria’s face got in the way.
Reuben is a good man, but there was something Reg was curious about. What happened to his wife's former boyfriend?
No one accused Reuben of anything, but when Gloria's old flame showed up for one last sparring session, about two months into the couple’s courtship, he vanished a day later. He was never seen again. There were street rumors which nothing became of, all of which involved Reuben.
This was before they were partners, so there was no decorum for introducing the topic. What was he supposed to say? “Hey, Rube, how did you sleep? Oh, and by the way, did you snuff your wife's ex?”
Reg turned back to the road and read the BOOB sticker again. Reuben is a good man, but Reg was in no hurry to get on his bad side.