The Ride Over

Layathel was her name. When he dropped her off at her parents', she'd lingered at his car window where they'd flirted and pretended they weren't certain that another date would be forthcoming. He had her number though; there was no question.

As Jason pulled into his apartment complex, his feelings about his future were reaffirmed in his mind. There would be the lucrative job, the pride of continuing his family's business, and perhaps there would be a girl in that future. Maybe Layathel? He chuckled at his eagerness and shifted the Corvette Stingray into neutral. He turned the key and the engine died. For a few moments he sat in the car, immersed within a reverie of pleasant thoughts of the future.

A car honked. Immediately, Jason checked his Casio Databank digital watch: 4:30pm. Looking out of the window, he saw his father's custom Jaguar parked one space over. That's right, Jason had a date with some sort of surprise. He got out and opened the Jaguar's passenger side door, but he didn't get in. "Hey, let me go change, I just got back in."

Pop waved him in. "No, no, that's fine. You look fine. We're going to meet a particular individual and he won't need us being overly formal."

Jason hung at the door for a moment. It'd been practically bred into him to always present his best side at any opportunity. It wasn't like Pop to dissuade him from extravagance, either. Anything to impress. When Pop had his mind on something, it wasn't worth the trouble to argue, though. Jason swung in and shut the door. As the Jaguar pulled out, he rolled the window down and stuck his key-fob. He thumbed down the lock and alarm, eliciting a beeping and flash of break-lights from the Corvette.

Moments later, they were cruising down the highway, windows down, A/C blowing lightly.

"You know I'm proud of you."

"I know, Pop," Jason said. It was awkward. Leonard Sange was not an especially emotive man, so his expressions of love or appreciation were usually non-verbal. On the rare occasion that he did tell Jason something affectionate, it was slightly uncomfortable, but that was alright, really. Jason appreciated it anyway.

"I don't suppose I'm gonna be able to convince you to tell me where exactly we're going and who exactly we're meeting."

Pop grinned, but said nothing. Jason nodded with amusement and relaxed back in his seat, raising his hands up behind the head-rest. Alright, then. It'd be a surprise. He could handle that.

After a while, Jason fluttered his eyes and leaned forward. It seemed to have gotten significantly darker in only a short time. Florida summers were known for their long days. As he looked out of the windshield at the dim sky, he noticed that he wasn't exactly sure where he was. Twisting in his seat, he looked out the side window, trying to get a sense of location. They'd exited the interstate and were on some indistinct highway. He'd just wait, he thought, for a sign or landmark so he could get his bearings. None came for a long time. He eyeballed his father who must have sensed he was being watched, because he looked over at Jason, who waited for him to say something, but Pop didn't say a word. Well, Jason wasn't going to admit he didn't know where they were, so he didn't say anything either.

After a time, Pop pulled the car off onto a side road. It was made of dirt, and surrounded by thick forest that, in the dim light, was black and visually impenetrable. The road wound sinuously for what felt like approximately a half mile. Jason was filled with unease, and sat straight up in his seat, alert, eyes wide. The car tilted back as they went up a steep incline. When the car was nearing the top of the slope, the thin black point of a shingled spire came jutting up into the evening sky. Jason frowned. The car leveled off and came rolling to a stop in front of a huge, nine-foot tall wrought-iron gate with pointed arrows at the top of every vertical bar. Fancy embroidery ran along through the center of it. Behind the fence was a foreboding mansion of an obvious Gothic architectural design. It was either painted black or some dark color that looked black in the dim light. Thin, elongated spires stretched up toward the sky in fragile points, and embossed window casing gave the whole thing a jutting, gnarled look.

Pop twisted around in his seat, put his elbow up on the center console. "Son, we're going to meet a long-time client. There are a couple of things I want you to know."

Jason was on edge. "O.K., hit me."

"The man is — eccentric. Don't be surprised by the strange raiment or the peculiar things he might say."

Jason found himself tittering nervously, and he tried to make light of the situation. "What, he one of those out of touch rich types?"

"You could say that, sure," Pop said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Yeah, just think of it like that. Also, he may do some things that seem impossible." His voice seemed loud and dominant in the quiet little car.

"Impossible? Like, what? Magic tricks? I'm not following."

"You'll know it when you see it. Try to take it in stride. This man is an important person, and he pays us very well." On those last words, Pop's gaze was pointed.

"Yes, sir. I'm ready."

Pop slapped a hand on Jason's shoulder and squeezed. He seemed encouraged. "Great. One moment." So saying, he turned and rolled the window down. Immediately, Jason could hear the steady rustling of wind through leaves, and smell the scene of pine and other trees he couldn't name. There was a speakerbox with an attached keypad outside the car on the driver's side. "Yes, it's me. Mr. Sange." Pop said.

Jason couldn't hear what was being said on the other side.

"Of course, it's Belmont."

Jason's eyes darted as he tried to recall where he'd heard that. A few moments later, Pop's window came up and he shifted into drive. "We've got codes and the like," he said, grinning like it was all great fun. "The Count is a peculiar individual."

Jason stared at the side of his father's head. "Hang on."

The great wrought-iron fence shuddered and jerked as it slowly opened, creaking and squealing. Pop didn't take his eyes off of it. "No turning back now, son." He laughed at his joke.

"No, hang on, I mean. Did you say 'the Count'?"