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[ edited 6 Dec 2015 ]
Dylan Gregory Rush aka Sir Jerks-A-Lot had a secret obsession. Actually make that two secret obsessions.
One, he loved to drive like he was a formula 1 driver. Two, he secretly obsessed over my demise. Put the two together and you'll get me trapped inside his Aston Martin screaming for my life as he ran a 80 in an 65 zone.
"Slow the car down!" I shouted. "Better yet, stop! Stop the car! I'm getting off! Stop the fucking car, you pompous, deranged idiot! Stop it!" I couldn't shout loud enough.
He brushed me off with laughter.
"Dylan Gregory Rush, stop the bloody car right now, or I'm gonna wring your neck!" I watched the speed, waiting for my threat to register in his blasted mind so he could slow down.
But he didn't. In fact, as if to spite me, he sped up even more. Luckily no one was around, driving or walking for him to crash into. Heck, we hadn't seen anyone for five minutes now.
"I don't want to die, asshole! Especially not out here, god knows where and especially with you." I tried to pin point any landmarks to gather where we were.
The car slowed down a bit.
I stared at the speed.
80mph
75mph
70mph
65mph
60mph
"Fine. Fine," he said slowly, his eyes on the road. "We're here anyway," he added before putting on his left traffigator to turn into a road.
"Where is here, by chance?" I asked. I didn't recognize this place. But then again, how could I? I'd just come to this place two weeks ago.
"A quaint town, just a little bit out of the city limits," he answered.
"How much is a bit?"
"Thirty minutes."
"Thirty minutes?? We only have an hour break!"
"Which is why I drove really fast," he replied as if that was a reasonable reply. "It only took us fifteen minutes," he added after checking his Rolex.
"You mean to tell me," I began, glaring at him, "that you nearly made me a statistic for over speeding just so we could get here on time?"
He paused, pondered over that for a moment before he said, "I guess so, yeah!"
If only murdering someone wasn't illegal. But then again, maybe they would actually consider it a service to mankind if I got rid of arrogant ass over here. I might even get the key to the city.
"You do know we could've gone to any mall in the city, right?"
He nodded. "Yes, but..." He turned into a parking lot.
"But?" I didn't bother to look at where we were.
"But then everyone would recognize this," he gestured to himself. "And I didn't think you wanted to spend your hour long break after filming and being stuck in that place for seven hours, getting mobbed and chased by my fans, now did you?"
"Yeah, very believable," I scoffed.
"Where have you been living obliviously for this past six years, seriously?" He asked. "Everyone recognizes my name."
"So where is this place?" I asked, not wanting to explain my reasons for not knowing who he is and why everyone thought he was god's gift to mankind.
He furrowed his brows in confusion but let it go. "Los Port Mall," he replied. "So ready to get a bite?"
I nodded desperately, only realizing then how starved I was.
"Well, follow me," he got out of the car. I followed after him.
"Oh and Alex," he stopped, locking the car behind him.
"Hmm?"
"You were wrong. It's actually Gregory Dylan Rush."
* * *
It was final. Me and Sir Jerks-A-Lot were archenemies in another life.
We fought over everything as soon as we entered the mall. Whether to eat first or to go buy my phone first. Whether to buy a cheap replacement or the latest model. Whether the salesgirl was hot or not. Whether he was an asshole or not. Heck if I voted against global warming the jackass would vote for it just to spite me.
After two minutes of fighting we'd decided to go buy the phone first. When we got there, he'd headed straight for the section that had the words LATEST MODELS written on it.
Knowing him, maybe he'd confused it for showcasing bikini clad girls.
"You're in the wrong section, Gregory," I said, heading towards the glass display that had the exact replica of my old one, but minus the scratches, bruises and ... well everything that kept it looking demolished.
"What?" He looked up, confused, before realization dawned. "No, come here, Alex!"
I shook my head. "What for? Let's get this fast and leave! I'm hungry and we got less than forty minutes." I looked at the salesgirl. "Can you grab that for me, please?"
She nodded, grabbing a key and opening the glass case.
"No, don't grab that. Grab this iPhone 6 in..." Dylan paused as he looked me up and down, assessing, "get black and white polka dots case, please."
The salesgirl nodded briefly, before closing the case to my phone replica.
I glared at him. "No. Get that one, please." I nodded towards my old replica.
The salesgirl looked between us two, looking torn and slightly tired. "New couple, right?" She asked.
"What? No!" I snapped just as Mr Showoff said, "Yes, how'd you guess?"
If only I could slap his face without looking like a crazy bitch.
The girl blushed red before she giggled. "Some new couples still fight the attraction in the beginning of the relationship."
Oh crap! I needed to get her some eye drops! There was no fighting of attraction going on here. It was more like me fighting the urge to knee him in his family jewels before dumping him in a vat of acid.
"It's so tiring sometimes you know," Dylan said. "She just doesn't want to tell me that she likes me, when I know for a fact that I'm the last person she thinks about at night and the first person to cross her mind in the morning, you know?"
The salesgirl nodded along, hanging onto his every word.
"Just on the way here," Dylan paused to give me a wink that went unnoticed by the idiot listening to him, "she screamed at me for hitting just a few marks above the speed limit, and then she said she didn't want to die with me, when everyone knows it's what every lover wants; to be with their loved one when they pass!"
Okay, he was such a good actor, everyone would've believed him. And guess what? Yes, other than the salesgirl he'd acquired a few more bystanders as an audience. About eight in total.
"I don't know if I can keep up this fight for our love, y'know?" This lie was followed by everyone giving him words of encouragement.
Okay, I've had enough of this bullshit! "No, he's just playing with you," I denied. And as it turns out, I think she also didn't know who he was. No one seemed to recognize him. "Oh, we're more like colleagues. We work together. There isn't and never will be a romantic relationship between us."
"You see what I'm talking about?" Dylan exclaimed dramatically.
"Young lady, you should be ashamed of yourself for lying," a sweet old grandma berated quite harshly. "This young man is fighting for you and all you're doing is pushing him away."
That idiot actually made a sweet old grandma berate me!
I took a chance with my next comment. Hoping he was true when he said he'd be recognized if I said his name. Only then people would know he was a good actor, and a liar!
"I think you'll know him... Maybe not" I began."He's a famous actor, liar and an arrogant ass. He's Dylan R-"
I'm silenced as Dylan Rush's lips crash onto mine.
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