Gabriella
“Dashing through the streets. In my brand-new shiny shoes! Over the crosswalk we go. Laughing all the way!” I sang as I marched down the street in my Louboutin’s. The red bottom heels striking the sidewalk with sharp taps.
December 21stwas here, and I was tickled pink that Christmas was only four days away. My first one since moving to Atlanta. I had felt displaced at first, adjusting to the constant influx of sounds. My apartment walls are thin and life in the city is much louder than it was back in Michigan.
Despite always feeling out of place in my small hometown it had taken a few months to adjust to city life. Ambition had taken me far from the corn fields of the Michigan thumb and now with my favorite holiday approaching I finally felt like I was home. Even if there were three calls for snow since the beginning of December without a single snowflake in sight.
At least I could still wear my heels. Trust me, no one looks good in snow boots. They make my feet look like bricks.
Smiling at the jingling sound of the coffee shop door as I enter, I tilt my head back and breathe in the smell of freshly ground coffee. Hazelnut, nutmeg, and cinnamon assault my nose, and I grin as I take my place in line. There is a reason this is my favorite bean shop in the city. It confuses my coworkers that I always volunteer for coffee runs when we have a posse of interns to do our bidding. They just don’t understand that it's a break from the numbers and the ass kissing that every intern tries to employ.
Minutes later I have my peppermint mocha in hand and four lattes for my fellow worker bees to boot. Standing at the curb I check my phone. I scheduled a rideshare before I had ordered the drinks. Everyone wants their coffee hell hot and while I had enjoyed the brief break from the office, I have a manuscript waiting on my desk. It isn’t going to edit itself. If only.
The car description is a black Chevy Tahoe and the driver’s name is Travis. I scan the street and spot the car parked in front of a dry cleaners. Any further down and I wouldn’t have seen it.
“All these parking spaces and that’s the one you choose.” I mutter.
I didn’t expect red carpet treatment but using the coffee shop’s parking lot seemed like a no brainer to me.
I might not be a southern bell, but I have mastered the art of passive aggression. As I climb in the backseat of the car, I greet the driver.
“Hey Travis! Sorry about the wait but you were parked quite a distance from the coffee shop. Gave me quite a workout so early in the day.” I smile as I buckle myself in and look up to see the man staring.
He is wearing black slacks and a navy-blue button-down shirt, and he has chestnut brown hair that is shaved on the sides and tousled into messy waves stopping just above his ears. The stubble peppering his jaw is a shade lighter. His blue eyes stare at me as though he is attempting to burn a hole in my forehead.
Despite his unfortunate personality he is a gorgeous man. The type that should be on magazine covers and starring in Gillette commercials, not working as an independent contractor driving strangers around the city. I am completely jealous that his skin looks better than mine. I am currently using a new moisturizer that promises to repair sun damaged skin. Meanwhile this suntanned stranger probably doesn’t even use sunscreen. Infuriating.
We both are quiet for a moment before I notice his phone mounted on the dashboard is in the middle of an update.
“Oh, my bad.” I apologize and rattle off the office’s address. Memorized thanks to rideshares and food deliveries. Seeing his blank look, I quickly add, “It’s actually right across the street from that new Thai restaurant if that helps. Or I could just give you directions if you prefer.”
“No. That’s alright.” He finally replies.
As he finally pulls away from the curb and begins driving, I take a deep breath. Awkward encounters are my least favorite part of rideshares. I take a deep drink and let the Christmas in a cup bring me back into the moment. Five minutes later we are almost back at the office when my phone rings. Glancing at the screen I see that it’s an unknown caller.
Prepared for the usual prerecorded message about my nonexistent car’s extended warranty I answer.
“Hello.” Polite but bored, circa my call center job during college.
“Hi, is this Gabriella Reid?” A breathy male voice greets me.
“Yes, it is. Who is this?” I reply.
“Sorry to bother you but, I’m Travis, your driver. Just wanted to apologize for the delay, traffic was a nightmare on the way over, but I’m outside the coffee shop now and I’m ready whenever you are.” He says.
“Uh.” I begin, “I’m sorry but I’ve made other plans. Sorry for wasting your time.”
“Oh no, that’s okay. I was late. Have a blessed day.” He says as he hangs up.
I feel shame color my cheeks. Glancing out the window I note that we are still going the correct way to my office. Luck is on my side. It doesn’t look like I have gotten into a killer’s car. Hell I am lucky he hasn’t thrown me out of his car or yelled at me. He has taken my presence in stride without fussing. I have practically taken him hostage.
It takes another minute of me guzzling my mocha for strength before I can address the random stranger who I have forced to drive me to work.
“Thank you for driving me.” I say. “I’m sorry about the mix up.”
“You’re welcome.” He says.
“You know you really should have told me you weren’t my driver.” I can’t resist saying. Honestly, he could have saidanything.Anything to prevent this embarrassing disaster.
