A Fare to Remember

Word count: Approx. 600
Notes/Warnings: None.


Bunny Delray nearly spit her mouthful of lukewarm coffee at the windshield when a man dressed all in black jumped in the backseat of her cab, slammed the door, and shouted: “Follow that taxi!”

She’d been sitting on-duty at LaGuardia for the past half-hour, waiting for a passenger. Any passenger. But at four in the morning, the pickings were slim. Or so she’d thought, about to gulp the rest of her coffee, pop in a piece of Nicorette, and settle in with the latest issue of Cracked Magazine.

And then this bullshit happened.

Quickly swallowing the too-sweet mouthful before the sarcastic chuckle that wanted to come burbling out went to war with it, Bunny then snorted. “You gotta be shitting me, pal,” she laughed, glancing back through the bulletproof glass that separated her from the prankster in the backseat.

He was wearing a suit that probably cost more than Bunny made in her past six lifetimes, and was handsome enough, in a meticulously-groomed, met-tro-sexual sort of way. Not a hair out of place, despite his frantic demeanor.

“I assure you, madam, I am deadly serious,” he said in a low, slightly accented baritone. Accented with what, Bunny couldn’t be sure. Maybe he’s Eastern European, or something, she thought fleetingly as the guy pointed at a cab one car ahead of them in the loading zone. It was just starting to pull into traffic. “A thousand dollars if you don’t lose that taxi—plus another thousand if you don’t let on that you’re following her!”

A glance in her rearview at the guy showed that he was indeed serious, waving a slim fan of hundred dollar bills at Bunny. She gaped for about three seconds, then she was signaling, switching gears, and peeling out into traffic before a Volkswagen pulling out behind her could put even more distance than the now two cars between her and the other cab.

Despite the lateness—or the earliness—of the hour, there was enough traffic that they wound up waiting at the first light they came to. But thankfully, so was the other cab.

“Can’t you get a little closer?” the passenger asked anxiously, his prominent nose pushed against the glass, as well as his hands. Bunny rolled her eyes and sighed, popping the piece of Nicorette into her mouth and grimacing at the taste.

“You said you didn’t want them to know they’re being followed, right? Well, I think they’ll twig if I’m right up their exhaust-pipe, bub.”

“Of course. You’re right,” the passenger said, sighing himself. Then he cautioned: “But don’t lose them.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Bunny replied, glancing at the passenger through the rearview again. His face was practically smooshed against the bulletproof glass and his eyes met Bunny’s. They were so distressed, Bunny felt her usually stoic mask slip into a reassuring smile. “I won’t lose ‘em. Ten years I been drivin’ a cab. I never lose a destination.”

The guy returned the smile nervously, his eyes flicking to the windshield.

“It’s green,” he said, pointing again. Bunny nodded, eyes once more on the prize two cars ahead. She gunned the engine, slipping easily into the Zone, where all that mattered was getting the fare where he was going with a minimum of fuss.

“Then let’s go.”

Ahead of them by exactly two cars, the other cab weaved in and out of traffic, breaking the speed limit, and drawing Bunny and her passenger along in similar fashion, towards destinations unknown.

END