(Many thanks to my editor, BlueEye5ftAngel, for all the good advice.)
My mouth gaped open as a yawn escaped. My hand reached up to stifle it as I shook my head to break up the cobwebs. The judge unzipped her robe and waved to me as she opened the door of her robing room.
"Get home safe, Mr. Torres," she said, her smile revealing cigarette-stained teeth.
"Thanks, judge, enjoy your weekend," I replied as I closed my briefcase, slinging the black leather satchel over my shoulder.
"Another night court in the books," I sighed as I walked down the back stairs of the courthouse.
After a couple of years on the job, I started using the back stairway to leave the courthouse after night court. Sometimes the families of clients you weren't able to get released from jail might hang around to register complaints. At the end of day court, when plenty of people are around, I didn't find it worrisome, but at 1 A.M., when the streets are almost deserted, and darkness is only occasionally interrupted by streetlights, an angry family member or friend can be much more intimidating.
I pushed open the side door of the big gray courthouse. I was happy to see the rain that had been pouring down since the middle of the afternoon had stopped. The streets glistened with recently fallen moisture and the street lamps gave the air a hazy aura. I stepped to the corner and looked down the street, waiting for a cab to take me home.
With a shopping center across the street from the courthouse, the street in between was choked with cars during the daytime. Now, however, the cars that passed were usually gypsy cabs in search of fares or weary night shifters on their way home to a warm bed. Droplets of water kicked up as each car rolled by. A pickup truck pass too close to the sidewalk, and I couldn't get out of the way before it splashed me from my neck to my feet. I was slapping water off my overcoat when a loud horn blast made my head snap up.
A silver, Lincoln Town Car sat, idling, three feet away from me. I walked quickly, lifting the handle on the rear passenger side door, and leaned over to slide inside. Dropping my satchel on the soft leather seat next to me, I leaned back.
"One Hundredth Street and Eighth Avenue, please."
"Sure thing," the driver said, pulling away from the curb when the light changed from red to green.
I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes, trying to let the night representing everyone from gun-toting robbers to subway fare evaders fade away.
"Long night?" the husky voice asked from the front seat.
I noticed a Hispanic accent and opened my eyes. Twisting my head to the side and looking closer, I saw wisps of what looked like light blonde hair peeking out from under a brown leather cap.
"No longer than most night courts, which is to say, too long," I answered, stretching my arms out in front of me. "How long have you been out tonight?"
"Close to eight hours now," the driver said as the car reached the end of the street and turned left onto the bridge between the Bronx and Manhattan. "You a lawyer?"
"Guilty," I said ironically. The driver snorted as the car rumbled over the steel and cement bridge. "What about you?" I asked as I sat up in my seat. "I can probably count on one hand the number of female cab drivers I've had."
"My dad drove a cab. I would ride along with him sometimes on the weekend."
"Cab driving is not usually the kind of business parents pass down to their children, especially daughters."
"My dad put me through college with his cab. Now that I'm in grad school, I need to pay the rent. I've been driving since I was sixteen, so it made sense to me."
I nodded as the cab reached Eighth Avenue and headed downtown. Chatter from her walkie-talkie filled the space between us. As the streetlights and neon signs rolled by, I tried to catch her reflection in the mirror.
"What are you studying?" I asked, now awake and intrigued.
"U.S. History."
I shifted to my left and looked into the rear view mirror. As the cab rolled to a stop at a red light, I managed to glimpse what looked like wide hazel eyes.
"Going the academic route?"
"Don't know," she sighed as the light changed and we rolled forward. "I'm assisting some professors with classes now, while I write my thesis, but I'm not sure I want to spend the rest of my life teaching a bunch of eighteen to twenty-one year olds."
"I didn't think college was so bad," I said as I leaned forward tying to get a closer look at her face.
"You were never trying to teach you," she laughed.
We sat next to an all night convenience store with a bright yellow sign, waiting for the light to change. Suddenly, a loud chirp filled the interior of the car. The driver reached down, pulling out a silver cell phone out of the center console, checking the caller i.d.
"Dammit," she huffed. "I'm sorry, I have to answer this," she added with exasperation, flipping open the phone before I could say anything.
I leaned back against my seat.
"Why are you calling me?" she spat out as soon as she opened the phone. "I told you to stop calling me! What? What? Are you drunk? Dammit, stop calling me!"
Cars honked and pulled around the cab. I rubbed my hand across my face trying not to feel too awkward.
"I don't care about that shit! You can have it!" Just stop calling me!"
She snapped the phone shut and threw it. The phone bounced against the passenger side window, hit the headrest of the front seat and fell to the floor. Oblivious to my presence behind her, she leaned back against her seat, covered her face with her hands, and started crying.
I was completely confused as to what I was supposed to do now. Cars were still honking and pulling around us, and my driver was now hunched over, face in her hands, openly sobbing.
Finally, after a minute, I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," she screamed, almost jumping in her seat.
I flew backward, banging my head against the window.
"Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried, turning around in her seat as I rubbed the side of my head.
"I'm o.k.," I chuckled, "Nothing a stiff drink before bed won't take care of."
"Oh, God, I am such a mess," she choked out between sobs.
I reached out, gently putting my hand on her shoulder.