The Salvador Legacy

09 | "Fun"

Sunday, 12:01 am

Picture this: Life's grand plan decided to do the cha-cha slide right off the dance floor, leaving me in a state of sheer "uh-oh."

But hey, who cares about my existential crisis when I've got front-row seats to Jameson's blue eyes doing the tango with my phone?

As I got out of my thoughts, my head shook like a stubborn "no" sign at a carnival game. It was my way of saying, "Nuh-uh buddy, not this time."

Determined to get back my phone, I reached out, my fingers extending like a superhero's cape swooping in for the rescue.

But Jameson, the master of the unexpected, couldn't resist a dramatic entrance.

In one smooth, breathtaking move, he grabbed me with a firm grip, his strong hand wrapping around my wrist like a lifeline.

Then, with a swift, daring motion that took me by surprise, he effortlessly hoisted me over his shoulder.

I dangled there like a human handbag, my legs flailing in the air, while my heart did a gymnastics routine of its own.

Jameson had literally swept me off my feet, leaving me hanging on for dear life.

It was the sort of absurdity you'd expect from a Looney Tunes episode but with a whole lot more hand-grabbing action.

"Wanna have fun?" Jameson's voice echoed through the air.

"Fun?" I shouted back, my voice an octave higher than intended, "I'll take a hard pass, thanks!"

I twisted and squirmed, trying to escape my fate, but alas, Jameson wasn't having any of it. With a casual flick of his superhuman strength, I found myself right back on his shoulders, like a stubborn backpack that just won't quit.

Ugh

He made his grand exit from the apartment, heading straight for the parking lot like a man on a mission, I couldn't help but admire his sleek, black Mercedes which was a real head-turner.

He swung open the passenger door, and I descended into the seat.

Click! He pulled the seatbelt across me, cinching it so tight I felt like a human burrito.

Then came the ominous warning, "You've got a favor to return, my friend. Try running, and you'll never see your phone again"

I lunged for the seatbelt, my fingers desperately clawing at the stubborn buckle wanting a way out.

Freedom was within my grasp, or so I thought.

But then, faster than an annoying mosquito, Jameson thwarted my escape. His hands shot out, pinning both of my flailing palms to the seat like I was a prisoner.

"Your phone doesn't have a password," he declared, mischief dancing in his eyes.

I let out a heavy sigh and slumped, resting my head against the car seat, and closing my eyes. It was the universal sign of defeat, and Jameson clearly saw it.

He slammed my door shut, and then sauntered around the car, taking his sweet time as he settled into the driver's seat. He fastened his seatbelt with an air of casual confidence.

I couldn't help but voice my concern, my sleep-deprived brain blurting out, "Does this little adventure of yours guarantee my survival?"

And, true to form, he responded with that sly smile of his.

"Dude, what's that supposed to mean?" I protested, my inner clock screaming that it was nearly 1 a.m., and I had some serious sleep to catch up on.

With a flick of his wrist, Jameson twisted the car keys. The engine roared to life like a restless lion.