by maven
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Taxi Cab Confessions belongs to HBO. http://www.hbo.com/docs/programs/taxicab10/archive.html. Characters belong to NBC.
SUBTEXT and VIOLENCE DISCLAIMER: None
CONTINUITY DISCLAIMER: Alternative universe.
FEEDBACK, COMMENT AND FLAMES: Email at maven369@sympatico.ca
"God, the lights are bright."
"Sorry. Lotta robberies. Supposed to discourage the bad guys."
The fare snorted humorlessly. "It work?"
"I dunno. Haven't been robbed since they put them in. But then…"
"You weren't robbed before they put them in."
The driver laughed easily. "Whatever magic wand works for my boss."
"Tough boss?"
"Not really. Pretty fair. You?"
The fare, clearly visible in the bright lights of the cab's interior, shook her head, pushing dark hair away from her face. The hair was messy, half escaped from a loose pony tail that had apparently given up on the job several hours ago. The eyes were closed so the driver couldn't see the color although dark was a good guess based on the hair and the freckles liberally splashed across both cheeks. The driver adjusted the mirror so that she could see her fare more clearly.
"He is, without a doubt, the most obnoxious, woman hating, womanizing, homophobic, racist tin pot despot in the city of Chicago, state of Illinois, US of A. Perhaps the universe. Definitely the planet."
"Sounds like a jerk."
"Ya think? Bastard still reviews based on how much you put out. If he's not satisfied, you don't get a satisfactory."
"That's harassment."
"Only if you can prove it," the fare said, opening her eyes finally before turning to stare out the window at the night lights. "Only if can prove it. If you can't prove it, maybe you are a fuck up at the job. Maybe you can't do it and should go practice family medicine where the worst thing you can do is screw up an ingrown toenail. Or just get your nurses papers and not have to worry about any decisions. Or…"
"Drive a cab?"
The fare's laughter was, for the first time that night, genuine. "I'm sure it's much harder than it looks."
The driver shrugged. "Not really. Not like being a doctor. You are a doctor, right? That's what you were saying."
"Hmm? Yeah. Well, intern. Resident. Put up with the bullshit and then apply for a job somewhere warm. Maybe Hawaii or California," the fare said, voice low and dreamy, her eyelids flickering shut. "Some place away from winter and the cold."
"Why didn't you just go along with it? If everyone else was?"
"Margaret Anne, if everyone else jumped into the lake would you too?" the fare said, her voice gaining a light Irish accent and much higher pitch. "My grandma," she explained to driver whose eyebrow had risen in query. "She had a dim view of peer pressure. And bullies. She would have ripped him a new one," the fare added, chuckling a bit a something only her mind's eye could see.
"Maybe if he was your type?"
"Trust me, he's not my type."
The look in the rear view mirror was nearly physical and it was only the sharp intake of breath that broke the moment. Braking quickly the cab skidded halfway through the pedestrian walk. "Jesus," the driver said, waving an apology at a pedestrian.
"You're right. Obviously driving a cab isn't as easy as it looks."
The driver smiled self consciously. The light turned green and with extra caution the driver entered the intersection. The drive was silent for the next few blocks with the driver trying to concentrate on the road and not the half hidden glances in the rear view mirror.
"Why don't you leave? Go to another hospital?" the driver asked finally.
"With a barely satisfactory performance rating? Might as well start over. He'd win that way too."
"Sounds like…" the driver said, turning onto a quieter residential street. Row houses from after the war converted into student and low income apartments.
"Go on," the fare asked.
"Sounds like he's going to win regardless."
The fare sighed. "Then maybe I just want him to know it was a fight. Even if he wins. That way it won't seem so much of a defeat."
The cab pulled to the side of the street, parking flashers lighting up the nearby cars with amber. The driver waited patiently, listening to the sounds of a purse being fumbled with while keeping an eye out for potential problems. It always made her nervous dropping a female fare off late at night.
"I'll wait until you get in," she said, accepting the handful of bills.
"Thank you," the fare said, looking up at the license clipped to the visor. "Kim."
"Pleasure. I hope it works out alright."
"Oh, I doubt it. But thanks."
She watched the fare climb the few steps; keys already out so that she remained silhouetted only briefly by the stoop light before she was gone.
Thoughtfully the driver pulled back into traffic, heading back to downtown and the 24 hour fares of tired souls and weary travelers.
And at the first stoplight she pressed erase on the video camera.
The End
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