Ann'Drew

Chapter One: Things Begin-Hopefully

Ann'Drew muttered to the car as he pulled backwards (a bystander looking on would have been most puzzled to see him do this, seeing as how his limo seemed to temporarily inhabit the same space as the car behind him) then sighed deeply as he joined traffic going uptown. It took him all of twenty minutes to get back to the station. Pulling in, he could see the other seven limousines all in a row behind the chain-link fence. He parked at the end of the lot, then got out and strolled to the warehouse which served as the company's main office, taking notes as he went. 

He was greeted through the front door be a friendly face, the friendly face of Bubbles, sitting behind the front desk. Bubbles' real name was Howard Duncan, but most of the drivers had forgotten that by now. It was a shame, Ann'Drew thought, the guy's real name was still a wealth of opportunity. 

"Howdy Howard," Ann'Drew said, stepping through the door. 

"Heyyy!" Bubbles said in return, "It's good old Annie Drew!" 

Ann'Drew smiled, this one almost real, at least it was more real than the smiles he gave clients. not that they would notice, as most of his were grumpy old men who'd forget their friend's names if they didn't have contact IDs. 

"What's bubbling?" Bubbles asked Ann'Drew in his usual fashion. 

"Nothin' much," Ann'Drew answered, "I count eight big boys outside. Is the whole crew in already?" 

"Oh, yeah," Bubbles nodded, seemingly absent-minded. His eyes were on a stack of papers in front of him, his words still directed in response to Ann'Drew. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... the kids are in the break room right now. They got one call in the past hour, the poor things." Bubbles wasn't much older than the Drivers, but he still had a fond way of calling them all 'kids,' as if they were his own offspring that he'd drop everything to keep out of trouble. Ann'Drew knew this was true, and he wished he could thank the man as much as he'd like to. 

"Mmm," Ann'Drew hummed, "Which one ran it?" 

"Oh, they haven't got it yet. It just came in a minute ago. I think they're making up who it's gonna be right now." 

Ann'Drew frowned at this. The Drivers were normally climbing over one another to pick up a client this time of day. Tips were most of what they made, after all. After the gas and maintenance and bills of keeping the operation running, ride fares weren't much in the way of income. If they were still deciding who was to take the client, and if Ann'Drew couldn't hear the decision being made from this end of the warehouse, that meant...

"Thanks, Howard," Ann'Drew said as he opened the door out of the lobby and into the warehouse proper. 

"No problem," Was Bubbles' response, though Ann'Drew didn't hear it. He was already halfway down a plaster hallway, on his way to the garage. 

The limos were only stored in the garage overnight. During business hours they were kept in the yard, in case anyone passing through the district spotted them, read the name of the business, and kept it in mind for the next time they needed a fancy ride. While they were outside the garage was repurposed into the Drivers' break room. At the far end was a circular plastic table, around which six boys sat. Each one was between the years of eighteen and twenty—Ann'Drew was the oldest Driver by a year. The company hired as young as they could get without risking inexperience. Each boy here had got his license as early as they could and had plenty of driving experience between then and the day they turned eighteen. Between the five of them there had been only three wrecks—and none of them had been while on duty. Ann'Drew was unanimously the leader, and he was proud of his crew. 

"What's up, gents?" He asked as he approached. 

A chorus of "Ann!" "Annie-boy!" and "Bossman!" greeted him. The latter was shouted by the newest recruit—Jerry—who'd been trying to get his nickname for Ann'Drew to stick for a whole month now. Something whichAnn'Drew wanted very badly not to happen.  

"What's going on?" Ann'Drew asked when he reached the table, planting his knuckles on the white plastic. 

The table's occupants met his question with inquiring looks. 

"Your man Bubbles just let me know that you boys got a call a minute ago, but none of you've left yet, what's the deal?"

"Oh, that," Answered the biggest driver there, Devon. He was only eighteen—one of the youngest—yet he still held sway over the other boys, and he had the personality to prove it. He was a grade behind at his high school, where he was still captain of the football team, and had applied to be a Driver hoping that it was something easy to do over the summer. "It wasn't nuthin.'"

"Wasn't it?" Ann'Drew asked, "Who picked up the call?"

"Greg did," Devon answered, "But-"

Ann'Drew cut him off, "Devon, Jerry, get outside and scrub the big boys. There's caking behind the wheel-wells and we can't pull up to clients looking like we just finished off-roading in Montana, can we?" 

"No sir," Jerry said, standing up. 

"But-" Devon said in protest. Ann'Drew gave him a hard stare—the closest he ever got to pulling rank. Devon sighed, then complied, following Jerry out the door. 

Left in the room were Greg, Charles, and Austin. They were older than the other two but didn't look it. These three still had their baby-fat around the edges. They sat upright in their seats, ready for orders they knew were forthcoming. Ann'Drew lowered himself into Devon's newly vacated seat opposite them. 

"Okay," he said, focussing his attention on Greg, "So who called, and what did they say?"