Leader the Follow
The taxi stopped at a hand-raised Anthony, suited and summoning, red-faced and bothered. It was hot, but the taxi was cool and the driver liked soft music. He was foreign. From the back it was hard to guess specifics.
“Franki’s,” Anthony said. “That new Italian place on 8th.”
The driver started off, “That is good,” he said.
“Have you eaten there?”
Anthony loosened his tie. He had just finished a fifteen-minute with Chelsea, the admin. He was married. It happened often, and there was guilt. He was now post-sex Anthony–the transition pulsing and instantaneous. The face of his wife. It was dirty laundry sex–under your fingernails, watch your back, typhoon type sex. Awful sex. Never in a million years could pre-sex Anthony speak the language of post-sex Anthony.
“What a messed up world,” he said to himself.
He took his tie off completely and wrapped the ends around his hands. At a red light he reached over the front seat and pulled it tight against the driver’s eyes. The driver exclaimed something in someone else’s language and Anthony squeezed.
“Just drive to Franki’s,” he said. “I have a gun and I do not care. You’re a driver. Drive.”
Anthony began to feel better about himself because the driver was stupid and could not even drive. He ran into a Fiat at a parking meter. Anthony opened the door and walked off through the commotion, muttering to himself about taxi drivers these days and how they should watch where the frump their going.
Vincent and Carla bought their tickets for the 9:05 showing of Party Poppers 3 (You thought it was over. Look who’s popped up…again.) and took their place in the popcorn line.
“That’ll be seven-twenty-five”–for a product that costs less than a buck to make.
“And the soda, too,” Vincent said.
It was their 7th date by Carla’s count, but she includes the run-in at the coffee shop.
“It’s six,” says Vincent, messing, “you can’t bump into a date.”
Carla gritted her teeth, feigning frustration, “Oh Vinny!” she said. They were nice and all was nice.
The movie was hilarious. The three stars were super-famous now, but they still remembered what made them huge and you could tell they were really into it. Matt Braber redid the nipple joke (nice rehash), while Josh Rovin and Jarred Hernandez were just as funny as ever. Funnier even.
“I’ve never seen so many breasts in one sitting in my entire life,” said Carla, sipping the watered soda to the car.
Vincent laughed, “Hope not. I can’t believe Scrimmer finally nailed Wheeler’s mom.” He saw it coming.
They drove the short distance to Vincent’s pad and after they romped the bed they drank coffee and talked about the government. That was one thing they really connected on.
“They really need to get their act together,” Vincent said.
Carla sipped her coffee. “Money grubbing whores. What a messed up world.”