Zoe was fighting oblivion. Darkness was extending her a warm invitation. She thought of accepting its invitation, being wrapped in those comforting arms, that bliss of nothingness and forgetting.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A booming voice penetrated the edge of oblivion that had begun to overtake her. She struggled to come to.
"What do you mean, what was I doing?" her voice weak, but filled with anger. She jerked herself up, ignoring the numbing aches and throbs of her body, adrenalin forcing the pain to subside. Zoe took off her helmet to meet her adversary face to face. Her tangled, raven hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She swept her bangs out off her sweaty brow. Her cheeks were flame red and her almond-shaped blue eyes shot an indignant look toward the stranger.
"Um...er...I...I mean..." the stranger stammered. She looked him up and down. Preppy clothes, definitely a momma's boy, maybe a little fussy, a little anal...She took notes, studied him. He was a striking boy-man. Red hair, gorgeous green eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, most of his face was a bright red by now (anger or embarrassment? Zoe wondered) definitely Scottish or Irish -- a modern Celtic warrior. She was quite taken with him, although she never would have admitted it.
Zoe suddenly realized what she was doing and became embarrassed. A hot flush spread over her face and she felt conspicuous. She started checking herself over, sizing up the damage. Some rips in her red leather pants that she had custom-made in Europe. Ditto for the matching leather racing jacket. Shit!. Another eight weeks before I can get another pair made and shipped over here. Goddammit. She checked over her beloved Ducati. A little banged up, but nothing too major, at least nothing that Sylvestri -- her Italian mechanic -- couldn't fix in a few days.
The stranger stood there looking agape at Zoe. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable by the awkward silence between them.
"Look, I know I was going a little fast--"
"A little fast?" he shot back, incredulously.
"Yeah --but you could watch what you're doing in the middle of the road like that, man."
"I...well...yeah..." he was gawking at Zoe, looking her up and down, checking out the curves visible through her tight leather outfit. She was not unaccustomed to being looked at that way by a man.
"Look, are you OK?" he asked. "Because I really have to go--I'm really late for work..."
"Yeah, seems to be no real harm done. A few bumps and bruises, but nothing I can't handle, nothing serious. Probably just be stiff and sore for a while."
"Well, fine, then. Fine...I gotta go--"
"Do you want my phone number in case there's some kind of problem later?"
"No, no, that's OK."
"I want you to take it, just in case." she squinted her eyes at him, sucking in her cheeks and pouting her lips provocatively.
"No, really, no need to...I don't think it's necessary..." he stuttered. His face was really red and he looked painfully embarrassed about something. What is this guy's deal? Zoe wondered.
"Look, sorry about what happened here, OK? I didn't mean to cause you a problem. I guess I wasn't really paying attention." His words seemed stilted and unnatural. He stiffly offered Zoe a handshake. "Well, bye. Sorry. Didn't mean to cause...well, so long."
"Yeah, don't worry about it. No big deal. See ya..." Zoe was puzzled by his behavior. Is he on drugs or something? I could have killed myself because of that guy and he just walks away with a "Sorry. Bye."??
Zoe collected herself, and struggled to right her Ducati.
"You almost killed that guy! Are you crazy?" A deep female voice boomed at Zoe. She turned around to face a stocky Latina.
"Mind your own goddam business," Zoe replied to the rude stranger.
"Look here, girl, you'd better slow down -- I saw the whole thing. You were lucky this time, but you're going to kill somebody if you don't slow down!"
Zoe continued struggling to lift her motorcycle from its prone position in the middle of the road. The strange Latina continued preaching to her about the dangers of speeding and reckless driving.
"Look, I said mind your own fucking business, lady." Then, as an afterthought, "Why don't you help me out here?" She pointed at the bike.
As the Latina helped her lift the bike from its side, Zoe noticed a weird tattoo on the woman's arm -- a book with a worm in it. Good lord, what a weirdo. After the woman helped Zoe with the bike she muttered a thanks, mounted her bike and sped away, revving the engine loudly to spite the rude Latina.