"I don't care a gun, I don't steal anything, I drive. I give you a five minute window," she took a breath, "anything happens in those five minutes, I'm yours; anything a minute either side of that it's on you." The blonde twisted the toothpick in her mouth. "You won't be able to reach me on this number again."
"Ah, there you are kid!" a man in his early 20's smiles. "You want anything? Codeine, Serpentine, Nicotine?" The blonde stayed silent as they walked through the car garage, twisting the toothpick in her mouth. "Oh yeah, that's right. You don't smoke."
They walked to the end of the horribly painted car garage, stopping at a Silver Impala. "Here she is! Silver Impala, most popular car in the state of California; no one's going to be looking at you. But trust me, she's packing; I put a 300 in her," he finished with a wink; she didn't even smile.
A Silver Impala pulled up outside of a locked gate at approximately 9:37 pm. Two people, across the street jogged up to the gate with a pair of bolt cutters and did exactly what you were expecting. Or at least what you should be.
There was a gunshot and the blonde took her watch off, looped it through her steering wheel and set a timer for exactly five minutes. From between the front seats, she pulled out a police scanner, found the right frequency and waiting, a toothpick poking out of the side of her mouth.
Dispatch to all units C-67 through D-109, we have a robbery in progress. 405 Central Avenue, shots fired. Code 30.
This is C-94 to dispatch, I'm approximately 2 minutes from location.
Roger C-94
In the low street light, one of the two men emerged from the door with a black bag. The blonde reached her right hand behind the passengers seat and opened the rear right door. Panting hard, he looked back at the door. "Come on, come on." Well, definitely not a man.
The watch ticked, winding down to nothingness. Two minutes, one minute thirty seconds; and then there were sirens, faraway but steady, the sound growing. And finally, the second man or woman appeared in the doorway and hauled ass to the car, slamming the door shut. "Go, go!" So, two women were working together. Something she rarely sees.
Tires squealed against the cold pavement, the driver pulling hard into the deserted street.
Dispatch to C-94, possible getaway car involved.
Roger, dispatch. This is C-94, all units be advised, Silver Impala, possible getaway car in robbery.
The blonde took a hard right into a dark street, hearing police sirens and seeing a search light flash down the street, she pulled in behind a semi, turning off the headlights.
This is D-36, 46th street clear.
She pulled back onto the street, turning in the opposite direction of the cop car. Finally, she got onto the highway.
This is chopper overlord, eye in the sky, tell me what I need to know.
Code 30. Check all highways.
Roger.
The girls had taken off their masks now, nervously staring ahead into the bumpers of other cars.
And then there was the sound of the chopper, and then it was there, spotlight shining down on the highway; but she doesn't flinch, just twirls the toothpick, eyes angled towards the chopper.
Any sign of that Impala?
Negative.
And then there was a blinding light and swear words that did not fall from her mouth, just the force of her foot on the gas and her hand on the shift.
This is overlord to dispatch. Have visual, pursuing now.
They were off the highway now, spotlight following them, and there was a hint of smile of her face as she turned a corner into an alley. Dead end. Reverse. Turn. And then they were under an overpass, no light until there was.
This is overlord, lost visual on subject, heading back to base.
This is dispatch to overlord, possible gang shooting in process, need eyes.
Roger.
They were at a stoplight, a cop heading in the opposite direction stuck at the same light.
This is A-19, possible getaway car at stop light.
Engage.
There was green, the screech of tires and then flashing lights. She weaved through cars, cutting off traffic and eventually losing the cop as she pulled into Staples Center where LA had just won against Cleveland. She said nothing, she got out, put an LA hat on and slipped out of her jacket to throw it over her right shoulder. It was like she was never there at all. Practically invisible, and that's how she wanted it to stay.
It was 10:42 pm when she got back to her apartment. She put the key into the lock and looked to her left. There was a blinding smile and a soft voice. "Hey."
A pause.
"Hi," she said, smile threatening to show. And it did.
Two weeks later
She didn't need much from the store, but she didn't have much at home but that wasn't the reason she was here anymore. One brown paper bag in her hands, she headed for her car but her course suddenly changed when she saw a girl, her age, strawberry blond wavy hair, a six year old boy with brown curly hair and green eyes standing next to a smoking car.
"Do you need a ride?"
That smile again. "That'd be nice."
I looked down at the boy. "Who's this?"
"Oh, this is Emerson," she took a small breath, "he's my son." The blonde nodded.
"Where should I put this?" she asked as she walked through the not-so-strangers door.
"Uh, the kitchen's fine, thanks." The blonde nodded and carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on a table. She leaned against the sinks' edge. Emerson appeared from around the corner wearing a mask.
"Scary." she smiled and reached into her jacket pocket. "Want a toothpick?"
He nodded and she handed him the wooden stick as he ran back to watch TV as someone took his place. "Thank you, again." she smiled that smile again, one that made the blonde feel an emotion she never feels. "My name's Karma by the way." she offered her hand and the blonde took it, shaking twice.
She looked past Karma at a picture on the way, a man, about her age, with Emerson. The strawberry blonde had a look in her eyes; not anger, but disappointment. "That's uh… that's Emerson's father."
A nod and a twirl of a toothpick. "Where is he?"
"He's in prison."
"Oh."
Silence. More silence, and then a question that broke it. "Do you want a glass of water?"
Nodding seemed to be her thing lately. "Okay."
"So, you drive, for like… movies, right?"
"Yeah," she breathed.
Karma smirked. "Isn't that dangerous?"
Amy laughed. "Nah, it's only part time. Only half the danger." And then they both laughed.
Twenty minutes later she was back in her own apartment, waiting for a call, hoping she wouldn't get one and luck was on her side today, because she didn't. But this was a first for her, hoping she wouldn't. She didn't live for the calls, she lived for the drive, but there's a smile that she lives for now, too.
It was Monday, officially three weeks since her last drive and she was at work, sitting, pacing, waiting, hoping; but there was never another call. Finally, the car she had been working on for weeks was finished and she called the owner.
Coming out of her office, she saw wavy red hair and twirled her toothpick. Karma saw her and gave a little wave, to which the blonde gave one back. "Kid, get over here!" her boss, Shane had shouted, the sound echoing off of the garage walls. She wiped her hands on a towel and walked outside. "Alright so… we got some car issues, it seems, correct?" he turned back to Karma. She nodded. "Broken muffler, oil leak, the usual, think you can help her out?"
She nodded and smiled. "Do you need a ride?"
"We can walk," she said, looking down at her son who nodded enthusiastically.
"I don't want you to."
And then they were driving. "Hey, want to see something?" she asked, looking in the rear view mirror at the curly haired kid. Karma looked back at her son who nodded.
"Yeah, he does."
She drove to a median which looked to be drowned in water, but in reality was only half an inch deep. They rolled the windows down and she drove. And when they got back to the apartment, Emerson was asleep so the blonde carried him. Karma's apartment smelled like everything good and nothing bad. She liked it and smiled as she laid Emerson in his bed. "Thank you, for today. We had a really good time."
The blonde half smiled as she sat on the window ledge. "Me too." she took a breath. "I should go, though."
"Okay." and then Karma hugged her and she swore that there would never be a feeling better than the drive, but she was wrong.
Most days they drove, the three of them to anywhere Emerson wanted to go. And then there were days when it was past his bedtime and he was passed out in the backseat and the strawberry blonde would place her hand on the blondes as they drove to nowhere in particular.
When they pulled into the parking garage, and the roar of the engine stopped, there was only a question bursting in her ears. "You never told me your name. What's your name?"
"Amy," she had said. "My name's Amy."
Three days later, they were driving again, late this time; except for them, for the drive, time didn't exist. She got a call. "That was my husband's lawyer." she took a breath. "He's coming home next week."
They'd been talking all night, and now she had nothing to say.
The night Liam, Karma's husband came home, there was a party. Drinking, dancing, laughing, singing, but Karma's heart wasn't in it, but she damn well appreciated that people still cared, and she was glad for second chances. "I think we all know that second chances are rare, but the girl I married gave me one when I didn't deserve it. I love you, Karma."
They all raised their glasses and toasted to second chances, but maybe, she figured, that the second chance should have been for someone else. So she left for a while, sat in the hall while music shook the walls. The was a ding of the elevator and then the face of a person she wanted to see the most. "Sorry about the noise."
Amy didn't say anything for a while, but smiled. "I was going to call the cops."
It's a joke, and Karma knows it. "Can I tell you something?" A nod. "I kinda wish you did."
And then Liam was in the hallway with Emerson, carrying a trash bag. He looked down the hall and gave a half-hearted smile. "So, I heard you'd been coming around, helping out a lot lately."
"Yeah."
Liam nods and grips the bag a little tighter. "Hey, I can take that for y-"
"No, no," he interrupted, "I got it."
"Daddy, take Mommy too."
"No, that's okay, let Mommy talk to her special friend."
It was a week later that she got a call. "Hey, listen… I need some cash, you know? And… my friend he said.. well he said you were the guy to talk to so… you know, can we do this or what?"
"I don't carry a gun, I don't steal anything, I drive. I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in those five minutes, I'm yours; anything a minute either side of that, it's on you. You won't be able to reach me on this number again."
And the night goes on. It had been weeks since her last call, but only four days since Liam left. It didn't really surprise Amy when Karma showed up at her door at 11:30 at night, yet it did. But what surprised her the most were the tears in chocolate brown eyes. "I-I"m sorry… I didn't mean to show up like t-this… I...I mean-"
"I don't need an explanation, you could have came in thirty seconds ago." And then there was that smile again, and damn, Amy's glad she lives in this building.
They were on the couch, bottle of gold tequila, empty, might I add, on the floor. "It's funny, actually… I'm not crying because he left, I'm crying because he's not coming back." And Amy didn't understand what that meant, but she let her cry and cry and cry until she couldn't anymore and it was one in the morning. She wasn't drunk, she knows that; tipsy, maybe, but she blames the reason for kissing Karma on that stupid fucking empty bottle, not on the conscience fact that she knew she wanted to.
It was a slow kiss, but it ignited a fire the size of Mount Everest in her stomach. And she hates herself for loving it because Karma's drunk and she's not and now the girl from apartment 408, the one with a husband and a son is crying and Amy knows she can't do a damn thing about it.
She came to her senses, and she pushed Amy so far back, she almost landed on the floor and then the door was slamming shut and she heard her sobs in her dreams that night. "I'm not crying because he left… I'm crying because he's not coming back."
And she gets it now. She gets it so much and she wished she didn't.
It's been weeks, she gets calls, but it doesn't excite her anymore. She does it because she made a promise. She goes to work, but she doesn't want to look at another car in her fucking life because cars are supposed to remind her of thrills and a really pretty girl with an amazing son who has… no, had a husband. It's not supposed to remind her of a living hell she's going through right now with her emotions, no, but it does and she quits. She thought she was better, that the drives meant something else to her now, that everything did, but she realizes she hasn't changed one fucking bit.
She looks at her cell phone at one number and she stares at it until she feels so pathetic that she just decides to turn on the radio.
I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel
I want to drive you through the night, down the hills
I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear
I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear
She stares at the ceiling in the dark and the music's so long she can barely hear herself think.
She turns the music up louder.
There's something inside you
It's hard to explain
They're talking about you girl
But you're still the same
And god she hates this fucking song but she still turns it up until she falls asleep to dream about nothing.
Two weeks later she gets a knock on her door at midnight. She opens it and she doesn't expect to see Karma in an oversized shirt standing at her door with tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't cry when he left because the reason he did was a good one, I'm crying because he's not coming back but that's because I love him, but I love you too, Amy." And then Karma's lips are pressed against Amy's and Amy doesn't know what to do or how to feel, but she kisses her anyways.
"You told him that?" She gasps because trying to talk and catch and breath and not fall over all at once while you're the top of an emotional rollercoaster is the hardest thing to do. A nod. "That's why he left?" Another nod. And then their lips are connected again, and Amy's really not sure when she took Karma's shirt off and Karma's not really sure how many times she said 'I love you' but neither of them care. And Amy realizes that she does live for driving, and she had never found a thing to die for; but the girl from apartment 408 now held that place.