Samuel Irizarry Nuñez, also known as S.I.N. dashingly outfitted a over sized black north face coat from Dr. Jays, under that a Sean John Black and Blue sweater from the same place, a pair of blue Sean John jeans and construction color Timberland boots he bought in ‘Footlocker’ walked out from his NYC housing authority building and goes into the parking lot at seven thirty in the morning and climbed into a black 08’ Nissan Maxima.
He backed the Max slowly out of his ‘parking’ spot and out of the parking lot, and then stepped on the accelerator. The shinny black Max rocketed up to fifty before it reached the stop sign at Castle Hill Ave, in a pretty busy intersection with a lot of school bus floating around the streets of the Bronx, in New York City.
When SIN reached the intersection, he didn’t stop. He floored the accelerator and made a quick left in Castle Hill, pricking up more speed.
He was doing sixty-five and ached to crash the Max into a Daycare school coming up in Lafayette Ave. He aimed closer to the building, just a few more inches towards the right and it will be, no, he could see the head-on collision, visualized it, feel it all over.
At the last possible second, he avoided the deadly crash by swerving back to the road which caused the car to fishtailed all the way across the avenue, tires screeching and burning, the smell of rubber thick in the air.
The Max skidded to a stop, headed the wrong way on the street, the windshield issuing its glossy black stare at a barrage of early oncoming traffic.
SIN stepped on the accelerator again and headed forward against the oncoming traffic. Every car and truck began to honk loud, sustained blast.
SIN didn’t even try to catch his breath or bearings. He sped along the avenue, gaining speed. He zoomed across Cross Bronx ave. and made a left, then quickly merged into the Cross Bronx expressway.
A tine scream of pain escaped from his lips. It was involuntary, coming swiftly and unexpectedly. A moment of fear, weakness.
He floored the gas pedal again, and the engine roared. He was doing seventy, then pressing to eighty. He zigged and zagged around slower-moving sedans, sports-utility vehicles, a soot-covered Pathmark delivery truck.
Only a few honked now. Other drivers on the expressway were terrified, scared out of their minds.
He exited the Cross Bronx expressway at fifty miles an hour , then he gunned it again.
White plains was even more crowded at that hour than the expressway had been. New York was not just waking up it was going to work. He could still see the daycare in his mind he shouldn’t have stopped. He began searching for another solid object, building, looking for something to hit very hard.
He was doing eighty miles as hour as he approached East Tremont ave. He shot forward like a ground rocket. Two lines of traffic were backed up at a red light. No way out of this one, he thought. Nowhere to go left or right.
He didn’t want to rear-end a dozen cars! That was no way to end this – end his life – smashing into a commonplace Chevy Caprice, Honda Accord, a delivery truck.
He swerved violently to the left and veered into the lanes of traffic coming east, coming right at him. He could see the panicked, disbelieving faces behind the dusty, grime-smeared windshields. The horns started to blast, a high-pitched symphony of fear.
He ran the next light and just barely squeezed between an oncoming Jeep and a concrete-mixer truck.
He sped down White Plains ave. passing Westchester ave. The Sound view Medical Center is up ahead – a perfect ending?
The NYC patrol car appeared out of nowhere, its siren-bullhorn screaming in protest, its rotating beacon glittering, signaling for him to pull over. SIN slowed down and pulled to the curb.
The Cop hurried to SIN’s car, his hand on his holster. He looked frightened and unsure.
“Get out of the car sir, sir,” the cop said in a commanding voice. “Get out of the car right now.”
SIN suddenly felt calm and relaxed. There was no tension left in his body.
“All right. All right. I’m getting out. No problem”
As SIN was getting out, he quickly noticed the cop’s hand still grasping his gun. SIN has yet looked at the man’s face.
“Do you know how fast you were…oh shit!”
The last two words were the one that caused SIN to look up and noticed a familiar face and that’s when a smile crept to his lips.
Putting his gun back to his holster the cop said, “Damn Sammy, why the fuck you gotta do this to me?”
“Whatsup Cuz? Is that all you’re going to say to me? You scared everybody half to death, and you had me shittin bricks, but yet, you just stand there with your face hanging out and the only thing you can say is ‘whatsup cuz’?”
SIN just rolled his eyes from his cousin’s remark then he said, “I cant believe you became a pig.”
“I can’t believe you became a fake fighter.”
The words fake and fighter put together really got the fumes going on SIN. “What the fuck you mean fake fighting?”
“You’re a wrestler, everybody knows that shit is fake.”
“The only reason why I don’t show you how ‘fake’ it is is because your family. If you’re not careful in the ring, you can die, simple as that and I love the emotion and the physicality”
“Then why aren’t you doing it right now if you love it so much.”
SIN thought about it for a second before saying, “Because I’m in mourning.”
“I understand that your moms died, I feel you, it hurt me too…but we gotta move on, especially you. Live your life to the fullest and be the best that you can be. Go back to the ring and prove to people, to your moms that you made it. Show the gente de la isla that you made it. Show everybody that doubted you that you made it, and regardless of all the hard times, you made it through adversity, made it through roadblocks, show these haters that you made it in general.”
A smile lurks around SIN lips and he says, “What the fuck you doing being a pig, you should be a counselor or something.”
Now a smile on the cousin emerges as he replies, “I like shooting people.”
Yo Cuz, good look, I appreciate everything that you said to me, I’m taking it to the heart.” The words came out from SIN like he really meant it, and he did as he gives his cousin a pound.
“No doubt man, that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re still getting a ticket.”
“Come one man, we family…” SIN started pleading.
“I don’t give a fuck, besides I gotta meet my quota.” SIN counsin finishes writing the ticket and gave it to SIN, then he says, “get back in the ring, it’s been boring since you left, you know niggas in the hood have to cheer for Spike Jenkins and he’s from Long fuckin Island or somewhere close to it, he aint hood. Bruner is from BK, but he hasn’t been the same either.”
Still looking at his ticket, SIN smiles, looks up at his cousin and while waiving the ticket he says, “Thanks Cuz, for everything.”
“Just doing my job.” SIN cousin said as he getting into his patrol car. “Gotta write two more tickets to meet my quota for the week. Sammy, stay out of trouble.” That were the last words coming out of his mouth and SIN walks back to his Max, he gets in and before pulling out he takes out his blackberry Storm and dials a number.
“Yo, it’s me… I think I’m ready to come back.”
He listens for a few seconds than he hangs up. He starts his car and drives off…
OOC: This is my first promo attempt in a while, a need a few more to get the hang of it again.