Chapter 4

A Streetcar Named Iori

Watching the taxi ahead of her pull away, Iori nearly lost the strength to stand. Starting to swoon, she managed to catch the roof of the cab and keep herself erect.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

That voice seemed so far away and distant. The music too, that had been playing overhead, seemed to quiet. However, all the while she kept repeating in her head, Calm down! You're misunderstanding! They have to be here! Rational told her that she was simply looking at the wrong cab, and that they either pulled into the casino further ahead or behind. After all, there were many taxis parked by the curb. Her friends were simply in another one. Yet all the while, that shadow of doubt never shrank, only expanded.

Before she moved ahead, she looked behind. There were two cabs unloading behind her. Clearly the closest one wasn't them, and she moved to see the one further behind.

"Hey! Where are you going!"

Neither of them were it, so she turned around and moved forward. Nearly everyone that was parked ahead of them were now gone, those who had exited the cab were on their way into the casino. There was only one taxi remaining, so she moved to peer inside.

"Where are you going!" The cab driver rushed to her side and grabbed her by the shoulder, effectively stopping her from investigating further.

"I need to meet them! My friends are right there!"

"You said your 'band members' were in that cab, so I followed them. They pulled away. Are you trying to cheat me!"

"No! I..." and then she thought about it. Had she been too drowsy and accidentally pointed out the wrong cab? How could she make such a mistake! Was she truly so incapable that she couldn't be left alone for even a few minutes? What the heck was she going to do now?

Seeing that her predicament was indeed dire, the driver offered absolutely no sympathy. Grabbing her by the arm, he jerked her hard to the side of his cab. Iori cried out in pain, but the man was unhesitating.

"You call your friends and tell them-"

"Stop that!"

Suddenly another hand grabbed the man's own, one that was much larger. Seized by this intense pressure, the cab driver lost all strength in his grip and released Iori by reflex. Once the two were separated, by the same hand that he grabbed, he was pushed back. His legs propelled him to the hood of his cab, and he nearly took a tumble, but he managed to save himself. After gathering his bearings, the driver faced the intruder.

This was a man of no small stature. Standing a whole head above the assaulter, he had a wide build and didn't seem the type to be intimidated by the driver's physical abuse. Over his bridge was a pair of glasses, and he had a rugged beard and long dark brown hair (tied in a ponytail). There was a sense of "wildness" about him, yet also a sophistication. Somewhat like a lion stalking the Savanna. He stood firm with only the hand that he used to dispatch the driver extended.

"No matter what happens," this man says boldly, "you have no right to touch your passenger!"

Now looking more like a scrappy chihuahua, the driver barks back, "But she hasn't paid her fare!"

"I understand that," his voice is just as authoritative as before, but there's a softness that lacks hostility. He must have interfered intending to be a mediator, not a judge. "But that's no excuse for your behavior. Now, let's discuss the situation."

Sensing that he is no longer threatening, the driver calms down and begins to think rationally once again, "She told me to follow cab, so I follow cab."

The bearded man looks back towards Iori for the first time, and for a moment they lock eyes. They are a pair of deep green eyes, somewhat enlarged by the focus of his glasses. Analyzing and understanding, they are full of experience and intelligence. He turns away as if he understands the entire situation.

"You picked her up from the airport?"

"That's right."

"And she wanted you to follow a cab?"

"Yes."

"Who was in that cab?"

Iori was going to answer, "It-" but the man's hand suddenly shot out, stopping in a spot that fenced her off from the driver.

For a moment there was silence, but the man kept staring at the driver.

"She said it was her 'band members.'"

"Band members? So her belongings were in that cab."

"That's what she said."

"But she didn't know the people in that other cab?"

"No! I doubt she was even telling me the truth! She is a liar and a cheat!"

"Calm down!" his voice boomed, immediately quelling the driver's charges. "But that is indeed a problem." His hand goes to his chin, as if contemplating something. A few seconds pass as he dwells over something. "I guess there's no choice. I'll cover her fare, so how much did it come to?"

"$32.75. I should charge her more for making me waste my time."

Something changed in the atmosphere at that moment. Maybe the driver felt it as well, but the hairs on the back of Iori's head began standing on end.

"Did you say $32.75?"

The driver repeated, "Yeah. $32.75."

"You damned tunnel rat! The airport's only a block away! How did she ring up a fare over $30? Did you even follow the cab like the kid asked? Or did you do this on purpose to squander as much money out of her as you could!"

The driver didn't give a response, but it was completely clear that he was defensive and nervous.

"Bastard." The bearded man reaches into his pocket and retrieves his wallet. Taking out a couple of bills, he throws the cash at the driver in disgust. "That's all a piece of trash like you deserves!"

Not possessing the integrity to not stoop that low, he snatches the money off the ground like a scavenger. Iori remembered the term the bearded man used, "Tunnel Rat" and agreed completely. He did look like a rat.

The man stood his ground with his arm still in place, as if ready to shield Iori from any potential threat this driver might still possess. By his actions and how he spoke, he clearly didn't hand the driver the whole $30. But the driver was probably glad he even got this much after the man's interference, so after picking up everything, he got in his cab and sped away.

The bearded man breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness that's over," he says to himself, his voice no longer as stern and deep as it was before. "Hey kid," turning to Iori, "what do you say we go inside and catch our breaths. We can discuss the situation we've gotten ourselves into."

For a while the whole scene seemed like something out of a dream, and momentarily was she caught in a haze. But with the wind deflated out of his sails, and the bearded man no longer tense and imposing, showing his humanity made the dream fade into reality. At that moment Iori realized herself and showed her manners.

"Thank you very much kind sir," she spoke as she bowed. "But I can not impose on you any further."

He tried waving it off, "You don't have to be all formal, and please don't call me 'sir.'"

"No, I must insist. You have done me favor, but I can not allow that debt to increase. I thank you for what you have done, but I must continue on my own."

"Well, sure. If that's the way you want it. Then, take care, kid."

There was a bit of a lonely expression on his face, but the man obeyed the young girl's wishes and took his leave. He turned around, facing back into the casino, and headed slightly to the side. There was a backpack placed on the ground near the front door. Picking it up, he again faced Iori. Giving a slight wave, he heads down the sidewalk that runs alongside the casino. From the girl's position, it looks like it leads into the parking garage. Again Iori bows to show her gratitude, but the man never even looks back to notice the gesture.

Iori turns and faces the casino. It was a stroke of luck to run into a man like him, but she just couldn't trouble him any further. A situation like this had arisen once before, and she was confident she possessed the ability to turn this situation around. Then again, this time she only has Usa-chan. No money, no phone, and no idea where her friends might be, let alone where she currently was. This hotel was called the Tropicana, and it was a historic, world famous hotel, but as far as geography, she wasn't sure where exactly it was located. Then again, that man said the airport was only a "block" away. Now, how far was "block?"

"Don't know what to do, do ya?" was whispered directly into her ear.

"Aiiieeee!" Iori screamed.

In haste she turned, and in her fright she found the bearded man once again before her.

"W-w-w-what are you doing here!" she shouted and pointed as if accusing him of something.

Being caught in surprise, the girl had managed to drop her stuffed bunny. The man bends down and picks it up, then gently dusts off the dirt it picked up from the sidewalk. He hands it to her without saying a word, smiling the whole time.

"You look hungry," he said. "Why don't we get you something to eat, and then we'll decide what to do next."

Iori ate on the flight, but that was several hours ago now, and the taste was so bad that she didn't even finish. Now, and after the stress of the previous events, she was famished. As if reading her thoughts, her stomach rumbled. Immediately she covered it with her hand and tried to laugh it off, but she couldn't resist blushing like an idiot. As it was she was neck deep in a very bad way, add to that starvation, and she was looking at a torture she doubt she could endure. Would she yield now to the man's good intentions, or yield later to hunger and hopelessness.

"Okay," she first spoke down-heartened, but picked herself up as she continued, "I will honor you with the privilege of dinning with myself."

He grinned, "Heh, cheeky little brat." Sticking out his hand to be shaken, "The name's Jordan Huntsman."

If Jordan was going to forcibly offer his aid, then Iori was going to make sure he regreted it. Instead of shaking his hand, she grabbed the hems of her long flowing dress and curtsied. "Min-" and she corrected her eastern mistake, "Iori Minase. A pleasure to meet you."