BANGERZ 3: ON THE RUN (2017)

16. Surprises

A/N: Today is my birthday, so I thought I'd give you a "surprise" update. Enjoy the chapter!

Catching a cab in the city is a quintessential New York experience - like gobbling down a hot dog from a cart, getting hopelessly lost in Central Park, and emptying your pockets on Fifth Avenue: mandatory, unexpectedly enjoyable, and more than a tad bit stressful. Which is why I looked up "how to hail a taxi" on Google before strolling out into the simmering daylight on my own.

When I walk out of the hotel, I feel like I've inserted myself into a conversation that's already in full-swing. Everything swirls around me thickly - the mass exodus of people hustling past with purposeful strides; the streets, choked with bright yellow taxis, squat buses, and the occasional sleek luxury car; and the humid air, pressing down on the commotion like a lid on a boiling pot of water. Only the noises of the city escape, drifting upward as high as the skyscrapers and echoing down the boulevards. Of all New York City's nicknames, "The City That Never Sleeps" is probably the most accurate. No one could with all this chaos - but it's a familiar, spellbinding one. I have a feeling that if it stopped, the silence would be the loudest, most unsettling noise of all.

I take a deep breath and summon some courage. A yellow chariot isn't just going to materialize out of nowhere and whisk me off like a princess in a carriage. Vince and his chauffeur services belong to Jason this afternoon, and calling an Uber isn't part of my Ultimate New York Experience for the day. So I sidle up to the curb, thrust my arm into the air, and yell, "TAXI!" at the top of my lungs.

Moments later, I leap back with a shriek to avoid being crushed by the three taxis that come to a screeching halt in front of me.

The first driver leans over to manually roll down his window, eagerly winding the lever, and yells, "Where to, miss?"

I shield my eyes from the sun and duck to his level. "Um, Saks Fifth Avenue."

He whistles, glancing out at the stagnant traffic and then back at me. His eyes give me a head-to-toe scan and, considering where I've asked him to take me, he must think I have enough money to waste other people's time. Still, he tells me charitably, "That's a little ways from here. It'd be faster and cheaper on the subway. Or you could walk."

I appreciate his goodwill. Most cabbies would probably suffer through traffic to rack up the fare of a long drive. They're used to it anyway. But it's sweltering out here and I'm wearing wedges. I'd rather not get blisters today.

"I figured that," I say to him. "But my boyfriend doesn't want me taking the subway by myself. I don't - " I stop myself, about to say that I don't know my way around the city well, but this might be too much information to share. This driver is nice, nicer than New Yorkers are made out to be, but I don't want to end up in an alley.

"Want to worry him," I finish.

My innocence charms him once and for all. "Good boyfriend," he notes. "Hop in, sweetheart."

I smile gratefully and plunge inside the vehicle, shutting the door just as my driver executes a pretty daring move and darts into traffic, abruptly cutting someone off. The cab lurches away from the curb, throwing me against the seats and making me curse when the backs of my thighs hit the searing leather.

"Sorry about that, miss," my driver apologizes, finding my gaze in the rear view mirror. "Have to be aggressive if I wanna get you where you're going."