she was waiting impatiently as i approached the curb outside of the crowded club
long legs, tall shoes, not much of a top and a tiny jacket
it’s nearly 2am and cold, and in any other situation, i would have assumed she was a hooker
but clubs these days, i guess thats the look
do you have a plastic bag i could use? she asked, with hope in her eyes once we got going.
omg, she needs to barf. worst thing that could happen in an uber
i’ll just pull over and you can do it on the curb, i said, steering towards the fat burger.
no, i really want to get home, she said and buried her face into my always at-the-ready barf bag. reaching under my seat, i remembered, i also had an empty paper grocery sack that i handed to her, too. still i worried.
it’s the main reason i dont drive at night and why i hadn’t in years.
at this hour the people want to fight you, fuck you, or barf in your car.
im too sexy for all that, so i just avoid the night, which hurts my wallet because you can make some great money when you should instead be home bundled up taking hits off your vape pen and trying not to lose hope.
this trip, which is why i accepted it, was gonna pay me $44 to take her 18 minutes to the east of hollywood, the san gabriel valley, home to some of the best asian food in the usa. so say some of the asian folks ive driven there.
where should i eat over there? was something i would have asked her if i had not been paranoid she might puke if i made her think about food.
she was quiet. i was quiet. the radio didnt wanna upset her lil tiny belly trying to say hi to me, so it hushed up too, barely playing heart’s barracuda as i weaved in and out of lanes on the 101 freeway towards downtown.
other ubers, cabs, and drunks were annoyingly creeping the speed limit. there wasnt much traffic. were they tired? were they trying to sneak little glipses at their passenger’s young porcelain legs? better not be.
14 minutes the waze app said. 13. but it felt like eons. could there be any puke in that lil gut?
i needed to get her home, but the pretty legs were flirting with me. tattoos, i hadn’t noticed at first, were now whispering
hi tony.
itd been a while since i saw legs like that. thin but not scrawny. so pale even in the streetlight.
but i had seen some. more than some.
some. how.
how old was she? never got a good look. she had rushed into the front seat. yes the front. which is usually not allowed since covid, but women have a way of being allowed exceptions
even if your little skirt defies gravity and sense
cute silver purse sparkling next to her bare feet, shoes kicked over, so tired.
her enormous phone which had been dropped onto my dirty mats was glowing from someone texting her
r u ok? they wanted to know.
shhhh, she is, i ESP’d.
i believe in angels because she was so spaced out and vulnerable and they delivered her to the safest car in all LA. a bad man even lonelier than i was, could have, and maybe would have, crossed the line. out there, in the no name streets, where the train tracks and the river look the other way.
so they put her in my car, because i’m more curious about what heaven’s like than what her breath smell like.
plus, who knows, maybe she was an angel herself visiting earth on spring break, not remembering her tolerance, and whoops drunk at the wrong time in hollywood.
with 5 minutes to go, i wanted to tell her how much longer she had to fight the urge to purge, but what if that made her puke?
i kept quiet as supertramp’s breakfast in america played quietly.
when we turned the corner to the house i said my only words
im proud of you
i tried so hard, she said.