Member-only story
Whaling
You shoulda seen the one ‘at got away.
Boredom always made him do stupid things. As the state trooper’s boots crunched on the roadside gravel, Braxton caught himself about to check his hair in the rear view mirror.
“You can go, Mr. Whales.” The trooper handed Braxton’s license, registration and the ticket into the open window of the Carrera.
“Thank you, Officer –” and Braxton peered up in the light from the cruiser that had pulled him over doing seventy on the old shore highway, “Richards.”
“You want to watch it on this road.” Officer Richards wasn’t letting go of Braxton’s papers quite yet. “Couple of kids came up over that hill last summer, left of center, and wasn’t much left of them or the family in the Volvo they hit.”
“I remember.” Braxton looked away. There’d have to be a lecture; there always was.
“Enjoy your evening.” Richards tossed the papers in onto Braxton’s lap and walked away. He must be new around here but Braxton simply eased the Carrera back out onto the pavement, passing up on the cheap thrill of a taunting peel out.
He’d been on his way home. There hadn’t been anything interesting happening out at the end of Mastick Lane, only the usual suspects cruising and who wanted any of that? Occasionally he’d find a tasty bit of trash at one…
