Cooked Goose

occasion—when her I boyfriend, Brett, was bringing her home drunk. Her mom would probably be in bed, but just in case, she’d better not walk! through the door reeking of tequila, thanks to the four margarita grandes she’d downed at Brett’s brother’s house.
    Brett had drunk at least five. And he was driving.
    Angie had tried to be responsible. She had asked him if they could take a cab or call one of their friends to give them a lift home. But Brett had been royally pissed at the very idea that she thought he couldn’t handle his booze. He was touchy about subjects like how fast he drove, how much he drank,! and whether he was the best she’d ever had in bed.
    He wasn’t. And she was tired of trying to convince him he was.
    All in all, Angie had just about had it with Brett; she was seriously considering dumping him. After the Christmas, and New Year’s Eve parties, of course. Angie knew she was cute. And she was pretty sure that if she gave him the boot on January 2nd, she’d be able to fill the vacancy before Valentine’s Day.
    “Hey, you’re weaving all over the place,” she told him when he missed a particularly tight turn on Forest Hill Road . There weren’t any forests—just smoldering brush, compliments of the afternoon’s fire—and not much of a hill, but Forest Hill Road was the best route for getting across town if you’d had a few too many. Oh, it was poorly lit and fairly curvaceous, winding its way between lemon, avocado and orange ranches. A challenge to drive. But for the most part, cops didn’t patrol this stretch after nine in the evening, so it was the choice of the inebriated.
    “Slow down, Brett,” she said, gouging him in the ribs. “Remember what happened to those sophomores last
    semester.”
    “They were idiots. They deserved to die.”
    Brett had a real way with words, she decided, not to mention his sensitivity.
    Yes, he was definitely going to get dumped come January. Being a blond, blue-eyed varsity team quarterback only got you so far.
    They rounded a curve and at the edge of the headlight’s beams, just ahead on the left side of the road, Angie thought she saw something move. Something white. An animal maybe? A big animal.
    It was crawling. Slowly. As though it were hurt.
    “Brett. Look at that. Over there.”
    Brett looked, but he seemed to be having trouble focusing. “What? I don’t see nothin’. What are you talking about?”
    “There. At the edge of the grove. I think it’s a dog that’s been hit, or...?”
    They drew nearer. Another twenty feet and she could tell what it was.
    “Oh, my god, Brett. It’s a person. A woman. And she’s naked!”
    Ordinarily, she would have expected Brett to exhibit an acute interest in a nude female. But instead of stopping, he stomped on the accelerator and his father’s ancient Oldsmobile shot forward.
    In half a second they had left the naked, crawling woman behind.
    “What are you doing? Couldn’t you tell she’s hurt?” Angie turned in her seat and craned her neck, but she couldn’t see much in the red afterglow of the taillights. “Brett, go back! We have to help her!”
    “No way. I’m not getting involved in anything like that. Who knows what happened to her? It could have been anything, any kind of trouble.”
    “That’s right. That’s why we have to help her. She looks hurt. She may need to go to the hospital!”
    Angie punched him in the biceps and tried to grab at the wheel, but Brett shoved her hand away. “I’m not stopping; do you hear me? We’ve both had too much to drink and I’m driving. If I get another ticket, the judge said he’d suspend my license.”
    “But—”
    “No buts. If that woman got herself in trouble, it’s her problem. It’s not going to be mine.”
    At a fork in the road, he slowed a bit and Angie yanked her door open.
    “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted. “Close the damned door before you fall out!”
    “Stop the car! I’m going to go back and help her, even if you won’t!”
    He slammed on the brakes, throwing her against the dash. “So, go ahead and get out. I want you out of my car!”
    She jumped out before he could change his mind.
    “You’re stupid, you know that?” he yelled. “You’re really, really stupid.”
    “Yeah, and you’re an asshole.”
    It was only after she had closed the door behind her that Angie realized her predicament, standing there on a dark road in the middle of nowhere.
    “At least call the cops!” she