Made

The girl beside him was quiet. Well, silent. Quiet implies she said very little, but she said nothing at all.

He bristled as he recalled getting roped into this "favor". "Please, just pick her up from the airport," the blonde begged. "All you have to do is pick her up and bring her to my apartment. I've got an interview, and I can't do it."

He'd agreed too easily, of course. He always agreed too easily. The blonde, Jen, was sweet, and everyone had a soft spot for her. It was hard not to. She would say the most inexplicably inappropriate things in front of your parents, but buy you a teddy bear afterwards. It was just her way.

He glanced at the girl to his right, and saw her looking out the window. There was nothing particularly nice on that side, but if she kept it up for another twenty minutes, she might get to see how nice downtown LA was at night.

"So," he said, with a slight cough to break the silence. "How do you know Jen?" The girl said nothing, but continued to look out the window.

"Well, we work together," he said, answering the question from his end. "She asked me to come and get you."

The girl ghosted her fingers across the interior of his rental car. He was only staying in LA for another two months, and couldn't see buying a car he might never use again.

"Yeah, it's a nice car," he said. "I like it."

The girl continued to say nothing, but this time stared straight ahead at the road in front of them. It was his luck that right then, they hit traffic. The 30 minute drive from the airport to Jen's would now take over an hour, by the look of things.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. The girl looked down at her hands, carefully checking her fingernails.

"I think we might be here a while," he said.

The girl did not even look at him.

"I'm gonna turn on some music," he said. He was trying to keep a positive outlook. He was stuck before the highway with a strange, mute girl, so it was difficult.

He turned on the radio, switching immediately to his iPod, which was plugged in somewhere. The Cure came on, some obscure song that Jen had introduced him to. She had sung it slightly off-beat for one whole day of shooting, and he had loved it ever since.

The girl's hand shot out, and she turned the song.

"Guess you don't like The Cure, then," he said.

The girl looked out of the window again.

"Okay, am I missing something?" he asked. "Because I'm a perfectly nice guy, I swear."

The girl dug around in the army green duffle bag at her feet, and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

"Yeah," he said, trying for one last attempt at conversation. "It's pretty sunny out here." He gave her THE smile. Not the one that he gives when he's dead tired and slightly drunk, and wants to make a good impression, but the one that makes the girls swoon. The one he lets slip out unintentionally when he's more than slightly drunk, or around Jen. His trademark smile.

The girl unlocked the car door and got out, dragging her duffle bag behind her.

"Hey!" he called out, but she didn't turn around. He watched exasperatedly as she sauntered into a bar.

"Shit, fuck," he muttered, letting out a string of expletives not fit for record.

He waited until the traffic began to move again, and pulled off to a side street. Just his luck, he was stranded in a shady part of LA, chasing down a girl who wouldn't talk to him. He wanted to let her go, and just forget the whole thing happened. He could tell Jen that she was already gone when he got to the airport. But then he would have to see that disappointed face. Or worse, have to track down the mute girl with her and her boyfriend.

He parked quickly, then jogged to the bar he had seen her go into. Sure enough, there she sat, choking down a beer. Her face looked disgusted at the taste of it, as she sat calmly at the bar.

"What the fuck?!" he hissed, making his way to the stool she occupied. "Why would you get out of the car?"

"Is there a problem here?" the bartender asked him, and he gave the man a toothy grin.

"Just a small argument," he said.

The bartender looked at the girl, who still had yet to say anything. "You know this guy, Sweet Pea?" he asked.

The girl set down her drink, and looked him square in the face. With her glasses gone, he could see the bruise on her right eye that he hadn't noticed before.

She shrugged.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to leave," the bartender said. "Maybe come back when she wants to talk to you."

He sighed.

"Look, if you don't mind, I picked her up as a favor, I'm just trying to drop her off at a friend's," he said, carefully hiding the frustration behind the facade of cheer.

"Oh, really?" the bartender asked. He looked to the girl, who was still sipping her beer. "That true?"

The girl nodded, then waved the bartender away with a flick of her wrist.
"I'll be over here, Sweet Pea," he said, pointing to a carefully concealed office behind the bar. "Shout if he does anything." He gave Michael a once-over, and stalked away.

"Look - " he began, but the girl cut him off easily, saying her first words of the whole trip.

"I get what Jen sent you to do, and it's admirable. But I'm fine here, so you can fuck off."

He narrowed his eyes at the sheer animosity in her words.

"Look," he tried again. "I don't know who you are, but Jen told me to take you to her house, and that's what I'm gonna do. Now pay for the drink and get back in the car."

"Aw, I'm shaking in my boots," she mocked, taking a sip of her beer.

He scoffed. "Get back in the car."

She turned on the barstool, the amusement plain on her face. He used that moment to take her all in. She was tan, easily half-black from his experience, and young, maybe about 19. She was wearing a black dress that was so short it was more like a t-shirt, and a black blazer. Sure enough, she was wearing boots, black combat boots laced half-way up. In any other situation, he probably would have hit on her. But now he was tired and irritated, and just wanted to drop her off at Jen's house.

"I told you," she said. "You can fuck off."

He took a deep breath, and shot a glance at the office the bartender had retired into. He couldn't see anything, and decided to take a gamble. They were the only ones in the bar. He didn't really have a lot to lose.
He took the beer bottle from her with one hand, and grabbed her by the arm with the other, in an attempt to manhandle her out of the bar. She slid off of the barstool easily enough, but what he thought was the beginning of victory was merely a strategy. She used the shifting of his weight to lean into him, knocking him off balance. While he tried to recover, she yanked the beer bottle out of his hand, and smashed it on the bar top, holding the jagged edge out towards him.

"Get the fuck off me," she said through gritted teeth.

She was clever. And quick. He liked that. But he was still much larger than she was, and he deftly grabbed hold of her wrist and slammed it against the bar. She dropped the bottle, and he yanked her out into the street. His relief was short lived as she headbutted him. He saw stars for a moment, but managed to reach out and clasp his hand around her wrist again, and dragged her to the car.

He made sure to lock the doors properly that time.