The Knight in the Shiny Silver Audi
Becka grabbed onto the door frame and pleaded, "Just one more."
"There isn't any more tequila, Beck," Fitz moaned. "It's 2 a.m., let's go." The curly-haired blond held up the keys and jingled them in front of the redhead's rosy face.
"You drive," she replied. "I'll..."
Fitz smiled and grabbed her hand, "You screech to Pat Benatar songs violently until we get home."
They quietly left the house and into Becka's new-used Audi sedan. They had been dating on and off for a while. Fitz being half Dutch and half Portuguese, his family life often got in the way of their romance. On one occasion, after Becka had slept over at Fitz's parent's house, she was verbally assaulted by his elderly Portuguese grandmother, whose squeals didn't quite reach the upstairs bathroom in which Fitz was showering. Another issue between them was Fitz's desire to go to grad school. One drunken night, he decided it would be a good idea to get his Master's in a European school. Becka threw an entire cheese platter at him, despite pleas from her friends that were nervously enjoying the assortment that included Brie and Roquefort. But despite their eccentricities and trivial pursuits (some over Trivial Pursuit: The 80s), Fitz and Becka were really good together.
As they made their drive home, Becka sank lower and lower into a drunken stupor, uttering phrases like, "We should make some whip cream of our own." She also was clenching her jaw and looking down at the floor for minutes at a time. Fitz started to get concerned and asked if she needed him to pull over.
"No! Do not stop! Drive straight home!" So Fitz sped up and kept his eyes on the dark, deserted road.
The events of the party flashed over his mind, and he chuckled to himself while Becka adjusted her seat.
The party had been the usual mix of hipsters, wannabe musicians, druggies, and outcasts. Fitz had smoked a bowl with two of his friends and slowly sipped two beers as Becka delightfully downed shot after shot with her girlfriend Avila who, mysteriously, disappeared for two hours.
With Avila missing, Becka moved from group to group, dancing, singing, and unintentionally winning at a game of Twister. Getting bored, she decided to act drunker than she was. She saw one of her friends that had just arrived, pouring himself a Jack and Coke, and she decided to bother him.
"Eric!" she giggled. "You look just liked Jesus! Hey," she pointed at Eric and raised her voice, "Everybody look, I found Jesus!"
Eric, who had a mild beard and shoulder length locks, was almost completely sober and very much unamused. A few people laughed but most didn't even notice.
"Miguel, come here!" Becka demanded. The shaggy haired Latino shook his head and walked away to talk to Fitz. Just then, Avila returned to the party, smelling of cigarette smoke and cough syrup, asking Becka, "What-the-What is up?"
"What's up is I found Jesus!" Becka exclaimed.
Avila laughed and took Becka aside. Whispering in her ear, "Believe me, Eric is no Jesus!" And winked at her red-haired friend.
"PULL OVER!" Becka shouted just as Fitz was getting ready to change lanes.
"Are you sick?" Fitz asked, concerned.
"PULL OVER!"
Fitz took the exit before theirs and pulled into a Christian fellowship Church parking lot. As he put the car in park and looked over at Becka, he was surprised to see her staring at him.
"What? What is it?" he asked.
Becka leaned in and said, "I need sex, now."
"What?" Fitz laughed.
"You heard me," she replied, and grabbed his shirt, pulling it with her as she nose dived into the backseat.
"This is not a good idea," Fitz whispered while Becka threw off her pants.
"That," she huffed, "is what you said last time."
About sixteen minutes later, when Fitz was back in the driver's seat wiping the fog off the windows with his sleeve, he laughed and pointed out the window.
Directly in front of the parked car was a massive statue of Jesus.
