Last Week: Grecca Through the Loop
#BlogBattle 11: News
Grecca kicked off her Nike tennis shoes, a relic of the past, and collapsed back onto her super-modern mega gel settee. Her space suit pants rubbed on the vinyl-like material of the seat making a rather unladylike sound.
No sooner had her bottom sunk into the memory gel foam material than her father stormed into the room.
“Grecca Romana Sicilia Cretera Phoenician! Explain yourself. You could have been killed!”
“Dad, you’re over-reacting. It was nothing, I promise. I’m fine. See?” Grecca raised her hands and spread them wide for him to see. “Not a scratch on me.”
“Well, it’s all over the news. The pictures, Grecca! You’re in the driver’s seat. What was the driver thinking? I’m going to fire that reckless space junkie!”
Grecca sat forward with a start. All day, ever since she’d sat behind the wheel of the Thunderbird, she’d wanted nothing more than to do it again. She knew that if her father fired that driver it would never happen.
“No, Dad, don’t do that. It was completely my fault. I insisted. He didn’t even want to take the Loop. Don’t fire–um–the driver.” She racked her brain trying to remember his name, but it wouldn’t come.
She watched her father whip out the holo-watch-phone-computer-band on his wrist and press the tiny fingerprint pad. A large holographic screen appeared in the center of the room.
He said, “News, nel-two.”
In less than a second the screen was covered with a huge video image of the car Grecca had ridden early that day. It was stopped in the middle of the road. The Loop for which the thoroughfare had been named sat just off-screen.
“Dad, is this really necessary?”
“Yes, Grecca. I cannot believe you forced anyone to this kind of stupidity. I raised you better.”
Grecca wanted to reply that he’d barely seen her over the last seventeen years let alone had anything to do with raising her, but she kept her mouth shut.
They both stared at the holoscreen. Grecca was tempted to close her eyes like she had when this film had been taken. The news woman kept blathering on in the background about the daredevil stunt of a teenage trendsetter. She made it sound like the whole thing had been some kind of publicity stunt, which irked Grecca to no end.
Her eyes never left the screen as she relived her wild ride through the Loop. When the Thunderbird reached the pinnacle of the loop, Grecca could see it was no longer half a foot from the road. It was closer to five feet from the surface . . . maybe more. Her heart skipped a beat. The idea she really could have died was startling. A niggling thought that she could have also killed the driver, whatshisname, tried to creep its way into her conscience.
When the car was at a complete stop, the video cut to photos, flashing in quick succession, taken by what could have been hundreds of paparazzi. It was dizzying to watch as one photo melted into another and another. She saw glimpses of her delighted face, the drivers stern, pale one, the hopping skid scratches on the rubber surface, and so on.
“The Master Magnate of New San Diego, Mr. Phoenician, has his hands full with more than business, I would say. Back to you, Philos,” the news woman announced at the end of the segment.”
Her father snapped his fingers and the screen disappeared. She looked at his angry, red face and almost felt ashamed. “Dad–”
“Don’t try that tone of voice with me, young lady. You have humiliated me. Your antics keep getting worse and worse, and now the news has made it clear that I can’t handle my own daughter. This will go international! It could ruin my latest business deal, Grecca.”
“Listen, Dad, I promise not to do anything else crazy, but you can’t fire that driver on account of me. Okay?”
“I cannot let his insubordination go unpunished, Grecca.”
She tucked her leg up under her bottom and used it to press up off the couch before going to hug her father’s arm. Grecca looked up at him with a sweet innocence which could only have been contrived but was good enough to convince her father who was blinded by love for his daughter.
“Well, he doesn’t like me after today, so I think the best punishment you can give him is make him drive for me. He was really very angry with me, and I threatened his job. And don’t forget I promised not to do any more crazy stunts.”
“All right, Grecca. But remember, you promised.”
“I know, Daddy. Thank you for understanding, and I’m sorry I scared you.”
Mr. Phoenician wrapped his arms around Grecca to give her a light squeeze. “That you did. That you did.”
He released his hold on Grecca, patted her cheek, and left the room without a backward glance.
“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” she said to herself.
Her excitement at the prospect of driving again, using the fact that she’d saved the guy’s job as leverage against him, gave her a skip in her step as she moved to the desk against the far wall. She pressed the smooth glass surface and said, “Call Eirene.”
The wall in front of her lit up with a call being put through to her friend, if you could refer to a backstabbing, lying, wannabe as a friend.
“Hiya,” Eirene answered without looking at the screen, the smug disinterest attempting to mask her jealousy.
“Did you see the news today?”
Next story in the series: Grecca and a Horde