Con Artist Legacy

Chapter Thirteen: The Stalker

Chapter Thirteen: The Stalkers

“Hello?” I asked loudly, trying to capture the cabbie’s attention.

Surprisingly, the driver didn’t even flinch at my continuous screeching, which was a tad creepy (actually a lot creepy, but I didn’t want to freak myself out again).

I tried to be patient with him though, considering it had taken me a couple of minutes of silence to recover from the shock, but his behavior was just plain childish.

This man had no excuse; he wasn’t the one that was almost mauled by angry low-life thugs.

And since I’ve never been the most ‘patient’ type of person…I began to tap the clear partition repeatedly (as soon as I felt that the appropriate amount of time had passed of course).

“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Cab-Driver man, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he begrudgingly responded, but I wasn’t too concerned with his happiness, I wanted answers.

“You’re not deaf, that’s a relief…so did you know who that guy was?”

“Wha guy?”

“The one that just shoved me into this taxi,” I answered, slightly exasperated.

“I saw no such thing…”

“Of course you didn’t-”

“So are you sure it even happened then?”

Was I certain that the last few minutes of my life had actually happened?

Well…this new taxi driver had some serious balls. First he refused to acknowledge my existence, then he actually had the audacity to interrupt me, and now he was questioning my sanity?   

“Yes. I. Am. Sure. That. It. Happened.”

“Hmmm…”

“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re implying,” I replied on the defensive.  When did we switch sides? I was supposed be the one interrogating him.

“Okay,” he answered, but it was obvious that he didn’t believe me; I decided to let that momentarily slip.

“So, who asked you to come?”

“Wha?”

“To the bar…who asked you to the bar?”

“I didn’t go to the bar tonight, I’m working,” he responded all bewildered and stuff. 

“Okay…but weren’t you waiting outside Necto just now?” I retaliated.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so why were you there? Did someone tell you to go there?”

“You did?”

“No I didn’t-“

“Well, someone did.”

“Right…”

I gave up, I just gave up. This man was impossible to talk to and no matter how I asked him, I wasn’t getting any answers.

I suppose the cab (and its driver) had magically appeared in front of the bar just in time to save my sorry ass, and I had gracefully climbed inside.

Yeah right.

But since nothing else made a whole lot of sense, I decided it was the best plausible theory (for now).

So I settled into the worn-out seats in amicable defeat, letting my mind drift off. I knew it was going to be a long drive back to the hotel, my mind easily traveling to all the things that could have happened at the bar if ‘prince charming’ hadn’t come to the rescue.