Page 3 of Try Me

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she yelled as Declan shifted into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.

As soon as Declan hit the highway, his head cleared. Everything made sense. Linda was in the past. Eddie was in the past. He was leaving in a few days for a world tour on the surfing circuit, and he might never come back. His agent was already on the island, come to escort him on the trip. Nate McKenna had promised him fame and fortune and a life he’d only dreamed of having. They didn’t appreciate him in Hawaii, but soon the world would know Declan Bishop’s name.

The road unfolded in front of him, weaving like a black snake in between the blue Pacific and the green mountains. Declan punched the gas and watched the speedometer crawl past fifty, then sixty miles per hour.

Switching on the radio, Declan sang along with Marvin Gaye for a few bars before remembering his flask of whiskey. He opened the glove compartment and fumbled around until he grasped the cool metal. Using both hands to unscrew the cap, he steered with his knee around a sharp bend in the road. He took a long swig, and the memory of Linda’s tears receded.

The whiskey burned, just like he liked it. Declan pressed harder on the gas, craving speed. If he drove fast enough, he could leave Hawaii behind.

An image of Eddie’s lifeless body came to mind, and Declan lost his grip on the flask. It clinked and rolled across the floor. Declan bent forward to get it. Groping around on the floorboard, he hoped it hadn’t spilled. His fingers closed around the cold metal, and he sighed in relief.

He grabbed the flask and straightened just in time to see a light pole a few feet in front of him. What was a pole doing in the middle of the road?

A moment later, he crashed into it.

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