A view from the driver's seat

Unreliable Narrator

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I picked him up near a small studio in the middle of the afternoon. I thought maybe he had gone for some casting for Meth User #5. He looked the part. Young, rail thin, bleached blonde hair, cap turned sideways, baggy shorts and graffitied vinyl jacket. He got in the back seat, not the front. And when he started talking, I was surprised that his voice was so high pitched. He asked me what nationality I was and that became a springboard to him talking about his trip to [Asian country]. That quickly turned into how much he loved those beautiful beautiful girls from [Asian country] and how hard he had partied. Turned out he only spent 4 days there which was crazy because it takes a day and a half to fly there. When I asked about that, he suddenly started spinning off into a story about his [male relative] who was a bad bad man and lived in [Asian country] so he could do terrible terrible things to women. He had paid for the kid’s ticket, supposedly to get the kid to work for him. The kid got bitter as he remembered one beautiful village girl that was thrust upon him, that he had wanted to save, “One of these days, I’m going to kill him, I know it. I’m just gonna lose it. I’m gonna get a gun and shoot him.” Suddenly, he snapped back to the here and now. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You gotta promise you’re not gonna tell anyone.” I turned to give him a pinky promise. And yes, I’m kind of telling, but I’ve left out all incriminating details. This bad [male relative] could never find this post and send people to kill him. Anyway, I don’t think there’s much time in his busy criminal schedule to be on the internet much. The kid rambled on how he made more money than anybody in his family. He was an underwear model. He went to cooking school. He was bisexual. Lots of shit going on. Lots.

I dropped him off mid city, on a lonely stretch of street where no one stopped, only zipped by. He didn’t go into a building, he just stood there, tapping on his phone. When I turned the corner, I looked at him one more time in my rearview mirror. He was still there. Waiting.


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