The Long Ride
One
The streets of New York were empty tonight, with the minor exceptions of cars rushing home to loved ones. The night was Christmas Eve. It was a rare occasion for snow not be hitting the streets, but a storm was expected tomorrow.
Kirk Johnson drove his last passenger to the Lexington Hotel. The man behind him screamed into his cell phone.
"You tell him to sign the papers or he will regret it!" The man in the Armani suit hung the phone up and threw it into his briefcase. Kirk assumed he was a lawyer. Or maybe in real estate.
He made it to the curb of the hotel and stated the fare. "17.50"
The suited man threw him a twenty and shouts Merry Christmas before slamming the door. Kirk muttered a profanity and drove off.
Finally he was able to go home and be with his family. His eyes darted to the picture of his wife and twin boys that sat on his dashboard. A smile appeared on his face and his foot tapped the gas pedal.
"34-10, do you copy?"
The static made it unclear, but Kirk knew what was said. He was the only driver on duty.
"34-10, do you copy?" His boss repeated.
Kirk grabbed the radio. "I've already dropped off my last ride, Gary."
"One more, kid. Central Park West."
"No, boss. My wife will divorce me if I am not there for her mother's pot roast."
"I'm doing you a favor then," he chuckled.
After a long pause, Kirk gave in. "Fine." He slammed the radio back on the receiver and flipped a u-turn.
Kirk Johnson drove his last passenger to the Lexington Hotel. The man behind him screamed into his cell phone.
"You tell him to sign the papers or he will regret it!" The man in the Armani suit hung the phone up and threw it into his briefcase. Kirk assumed he was a lawyer. Or maybe in real estate.
He made it to the curb of the hotel and stated the fare. "17.50"
The suited man threw him a twenty and shouts Merry Christmas before slamming the door. Kirk muttered a profanity and drove off.
Finally he was able to go home and be with his family. His eyes darted to the picture of his wife and twin boys that sat on his dashboard. A smile appeared on his face and his foot tapped the gas pedal.
"34-10, do you copy?"
The static made it unclear, but Kirk knew what was said. He was the only driver on duty.
"34-10, do you copy?" His boss repeated.
Kirk grabbed the radio. "I've already dropped off my last ride, Gary."
"One more, kid. Central Park West."
"No, boss. My wife will divorce me if I am not there for her mother's pot roast."
"I'm doing you a favor then," he chuckled.
After a long pause, Kirk gave in. "Fine." He slammed the radio back on the receiver and flipped a u-turn.