There's No Place Like New York City

Chapter 3 - Life's Looking Up

A taxi passed by.

Hey!

And another.

C’mon!

And another.

I should really complain to the manager of these drivers.

And another.

Okay, I’m pretty sure that driver saw me.

And another.

Oh wait, he already has a passenger.

And another.

I’m going to wave my arms like a maniac in three… two… one—

A yellow cab pulled to a stop in front of me. It’s about time! I opened the back door and scooted down the seat.

The driver turned around. And his eyebrows shot up.

He drawled, “Whoa, hey sexy….”

He ogled my chest as I spoke to him, “Um, can you take me to the NYU hospital?”

“Sure, anything for you, baby,” he complied as he continued to not look at my face.   

I self-consciously pulled the neckline of my t-shirt up. Why did I have to wear THIS shirt today? Why?!

“Can we go now?”

He started the taxi. One step closer to Dad….

“So, what’s your name, pretty girl?”

Okay, I was seriously getting irked by this guy’s personality; the aggravating pet names, the staring, and he was driving with one hand on the steering wheel; which is EXTREMELY unsafe on the streets of New York!

He would swerve around turns; swing recklessly into other lanes, and rudely cut off people which earned us a LOT of irritated honks from other cars. I don’t want to die today, please.

“Holly,” I replied reluctantly.

“Fits you. Cute name for a cute girl.”

“And yours?” I asked politely; I honestly didn’t want to know.

“Josh.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t silent. There was always either Josh cracking inappropriate jokes I didn’t understand, Josh making snide comments about New York City’s drivers (I thought they drove quite well; I think Josh was the only New York City cabbie who was a terrible driver;), or Josh just talking. And then there was me, not listening. 

I wonder how Blake is doing….

            Blake  

My eyelids felt as if they weighed two tons, my shoulders sagged tiredly, and I was barely holding up my head. Sure, I had the best sleep in years, but I didn’t have much of it. I fell asleep around twelve last night, forcing myself to wake up at five.

The café was packed even for a Saturday morning; almost all the counter seats and table seats were filled. And I had served every customer.

I grumbled to myself, “If it hadn’t been for Josh, I would’ve been at home right now, sleeping in until ten….”

I swear I would’ve dropped dead on the counter from exhaustion, if Dylan hadn’t walked in at that moment.

He grinned at me, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

“You suck.”

“Anytime, Blake. Anytime.”

He kicked his bags into the kitchenette, watching it slide across the tiles until it bumped into the back wall. He examined me in my sorry state and smiled sadly.