Excerpt: Gospel of Wind

PROLOGUE: SOMETHING HAS TO BLOW UP

Destiny has an excellent sense of timing. She makes a point of never being late for a date, which is why she has such good taste in vehicles. On this particular night destiny was riding in a vintage silver-gray Buick with incongruously modern spinning hubcaps. The car bobbed and weaved through the Saturday night Chicago traffic like a punch-drunk prizefighter. A sudden lane change – occasionally accompanied by an afterthought of a signal – or reckless acceleration answered each rude gesture or blast of a horn from another driver. The Buick's erratic movements and near-suicidal rate of speed led the unfortunate motorists who were trapped on the rain-slick freeway with "that maniac" to speculate – correctly – about the driver's level of impairment. A few wishful thinkers prophesied the drunk's fiery death amid twisted burning metal, but destiny's rendezvous was not on the freeway tonight. The Buick skipped across two lanes to make an exit, turned left against a red light and flew into the neighborhood toward destiny's appointment.
Zachary Blue and Alexa Ward didn't know that they were in destiny's path. They walked side-by-side along familiar streets, as oblivious to the world around them as only people in love and the residents of comfortable middleclass enclaves can be, her creamy white hand in his coffee-brown one. Every now and then their eyes would meet, and they would smile shyly and look away. They walked perfectly in step with the ease of long practice. Alexa tucked a stray lock of golden hair back under her hat and began to hum "Singin' in the Rain." Zach laughed and shook his head. "I can't believe you actually enjoyed that movie," he said.
"I like your mom's old movies," she replied, "They've got real stories, romance, actual dialogue… not like nowadays, where something has to blow up or somebody has to get naked every fifteen minutes."
Zachary attempted a mock thoughtful expression. "I guess you're right. Some movies could do with less stuff blowing up." Alexa snatched her hand back and bumped him away with her shoulder.
"Perv," she teased, "I swear, that's all you boys think about." Her face grew thoughtful as she added, "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be more romantic sometimes."
Zach's eyes widened in surprise. "What, like Gene Kelly?"
"Well, yeah," said Alexa, "Do you have any idea how sexy it is when a man can dance like that? Believe me, women love it."
"Gene Kelly does have some serious moves," Zach acknowledged, "Of course, he did learn everything he knew from the Nicholas Brothers."
Alexa laughed. "Excuse me? Did I miss something? When did November become Black History Month?"
"Black history happens every month, baby," he said slyly, "The rest of the world will just have to deal."
"Yeah, right." Alexa pouted prettily. "Seriously, Zach, I'd like for us to go dancing some time. You know, you, me, a dark room and some CDs. It doesn't have to be Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron, but the two of us moving with the music… that would be nice."
Zach grinned mischievously. "Oh, you want Gene Kelly?" he said, "I can give you Gene Kelly." He bowed to his lady, straightened with a flourish and broke into a surprisingly good soft-shoe. He shuffled his feet in time as he sang, "Doo be doop doo, doo be doo be doop doo be doo be…"
Alexa snorted out a laugh. "What are you doing, you looney tune?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's not even raining." Zach pretended not to hear and spun himself around a lamppost. Other people began to notice Zach's antics, and Alexa grew embarrassed. "Okay, that's enough. Come on, let's just walk." Zach ignored her request and jumped in and out of the gutter splashing in imaginary puddles. "Come on, Zach, that's enough! Get out the road before you get hit by a bus or something!"
It was at that moment that the Buick turned a corner and pinned Zach in the predatory glare of its headlights. Ah, thought destiny, right on time again. The car pounced. Alexa saw its approach out of the corner of her eye and turned to focus on what her subconscious had already identified as a threat. She screamed a warning just as the car reached Zach in a blur of silver. The Buick swerved a bit to the right at the same time that Zach overbalanced a little to the left, just enough for the merest whisper of contact between bumper and hip. Zach's impromptu dance turned into an aerial pirouette that ended against a brick shop front. There were two dry cracking sounds as the young man's left wrist and forearm sacrificed themselves to keep him from hitting the wall head first. The dull thud – as opposed to wet splat – that followed proved that their sacrifice was not entirely in vain. Zachary's head bounced off of the wall, but all it left there was a bloodstain (destiny, as it turns out, had other plans for the brain). By the time Zach's unconscious form had folded itself onto the sidewalk an alert passerby was already memorizing the Buick's license plate number. Another whipped out her cell phone and dialed 911. Alexa gathered her boyfriend into her arms and sobbed hysterically while the drunk driver sped off toward his appointment with a telephone pole. With her work done here destiny abandoned the Buick and went in search of another ride.
Yes, destiny is very punctual. Which is why, when she chooses a vehicle, she invariably picks a fast one. Alas, she doesn't always give any thought to brakes.