Deacon pulled his Cadillac into a parking spot at the station and slid the column shifter into park. Something caught his eye momentarily while getting out of the car. There was a white van parked across the street that had the ComEd electric utility logo. This normally would not have been very remarkable, but for the fact that he had seen one outside his apartment earlier, and that one also had an exhaust leak that was so potent he could smell it from across the street. He paused to purposefully sniff the air and got a taste of the oil rich exhaust as he did. Sure, it was odd, but he chalked it up to one of those odd things you experience in life like the time he was walking to his car in the rain and looked up and saw a bolt of lightning strike directly above him, or the other time when he was driving down Garfield Boulevard and saw a transformer blow, sending bright sparks across the street and lighting the night for a moment.

Deacon went into the station to start his shift and was immediately confronted by Maria, one of the girls from the office.

“Yo, Deacon. Boss wants da see ya in his office.” She jerked her thumb behind her towards the office and her oversized gaudy bracelets jangled when she did.

Deacon adjusted the Velcro on one of his leather fingerless gloves and then stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He made his way up the simple steel stairs that led to the office trailer that overlooked the garage and knocked on the door.

“Yeah, come in.” Big Louie, the owner of Southside Taxi replied in his big deep gruff voice.

“Maria said you wanted to see me?” Deacon replied, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah have a seat.”

Deacon did so, sitting in the hard grey metal folding chair in front of the boss’ desk. Whenever anyone was called in to see Louie, they always had to sit there, and it was probably the hardest and most uncomfortable seat in the world. Deacon wondered if he had chosen such a rotten place to sit on purpose as a form of humiliation tactic. The small office was filled with thick cigar smoke, which was suddenly making the young man sick.

Louie chomped on his cigar; a few puffs added more smoke to the soupy fog hanging in the air while he finished some paperwork. Deacon waited patiently while the boss put some paperwork into a manilla folder and then filed it into one of the huge metal filing cabinets behind him. He then turned his full attention towards the young man in his office. Louie was a great mountain of a man, 6’2 and over three-hundred pounds. He dressed like a throwback to the 30’s, with one of those old-fashioned newsboy caps crowning his bald head and a pair of suspenders holding up his pants.

“Y’know Crawford, I never wanted to take on such a young kid. Most of my drivers have twenty, thirty years driving experience under their belt. Y’know the reason I decided to risk signin’ you on?”

Deacon felt like he was being condescended to, and he choked down the rising anger and annoyance and simply shrugged while pulling his lips tight. The truth is, ever since he signed on with Southside Taxi, he had to constantly endure quips about how young he was and even how short he was. Truthfully, it was getting stale.

“It was your uncle. I grew up with your uncle over in Canaryville. When I started this company, your uncle was my very first driver, and he worked for me here for over twenty years. When he died I just…” Louie’s grim and heavily lined face did not look capable of true emotion, at least emotion that was not anger, but there was a twinge of something in his face then, and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “He was a friend. When I heard he was giving his medal to his nephew, I knew giving you a chance to earn some money here would be a chance to pay it back to James.”

Deacon thought about the words as they were being spoken. He owed taxes on the medal every year, a percentage of his fares went to the company, as well as the lease money for the cab every night. And the fact that Deacon consistently had some of the better statistics month after month meant that he was out there hustling to make this company a lot of money. But Louie was doing him a favor over here…

“You been dependable up until now, but lately…” Louie took another puff of his cigar. “You’ve missed several days in the last couple weeks, you were late with the drop off to the day driver, you damaged the cab…”

“I handed in the police report. It’s not like I stabbed the guy and made him bleed all over the back seat.” Deacon’s anger came out and he could no longer contain it. This was the third time he’d been admonished about the incident since it had happened.

“It still happened on your watch. When you’re on the meter you are responsible for your passenger’s actions. You should have rejected him bringing a wild animal aboard right from the start. But I didn’t bring you in here to rehash this over and over. I wanted to get your take on your less than reliable behavior lately. If it was just the damage to the cab, that would be easy enough to overlook, but the absences and frankly…you smell like alcohol from across the room.”

“Well, I had to go to the hospital to get rabies shots after that animal attacked me. Frankly, the shots made me even sicker than the bites. I got pretty sick there for awhile, and I called that in. I’m feeling a lot better now though. I don’t think it’s really all that fair blaming me for that. It’s not like I chose to have some crazy guy bring a wild animal in my cab, attack me and kill him and then get sick from it all.”

Louie did not argue, but he still seemed angry about it all. He was angry but could not come up with a logical argument to turn against Deacon. He should be glad that Deacon was not trying to get worker’s comp for the whole situation, but could he even be happy about that? No. The big man in the chair instead changed the argument instead of replying directly to it.

“Well just remember kid, I got a hundred other guys out there that would be happy to take your spot and your shift. Keep your nose clean. That’s all.”

Deacon was then dismissed. Like a school child. He left the office sullenly but made sure that he did not do anything childish like slamming the door on the way out. He wanted to. He walked back down the stairs and headed back towards his taxi. What a waste of time.

When he approached his cab, Seth, the day driver was still there, cleaning out the back seat. Seth was an older man that had always been nice to the young cab driver. He had always been free with his advice and willing to help whenever he could. When he saw the young man heading over, he called out.

“Hey yo Deacon. Almost done here, just trying to get the last of it up. I had some rather fresh young couples today wanting to do more than get to their destination in the backseat here. And then there was this fat ass who insisted on bringing a deli sandwich with him and it looks like he spilled mayonnaise and mustard all over.”

“It’s cool Seth. If you wanna get home to your family you can go, I can take it from here.”

“Aw Deacon, buddy I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“It’s fine, really. I got it.”

“Alright then young man.” Seth turned over a bottle of cheap Armor All and a terrycloth rag to the young man. “You have a good night out there. And stay safe. I heard they still haven’t caught that killer that’s been killing cabbies and prostitutes in the Southside.”

“Wait, hold up, what? I didn’t hear about any killers. What are you talking about?” Deacon turned to face the other man who suddenly had his full attention.

“You didn’t hear about the killer? It’s been all over the news. The police think it’s a serial killer. He’s killed two cabbies, I think they were both with Checker, and four prostitutes all in the past couple months. It’s all been going down over by your neighborhood, New City.”

“What? I haven’t heard of that before now. That’s crazy.”

“Just watch your back youngster. And don’t take anyone in if they don’t feel right. I been doing this for twenty-two years and you start to get a feel for people after a while. You can generally tell if someone is going to be a good tipper or not, if they want to talk or not, things like that. Trust your instincts, if it doesn’t feel right, don’t be a hero, just get the hell outta there.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Yeah alright. Thanks Seth.”

Deacon finished cleaning the cab and drove off into the city streets. He had plenty of time to think about everything while driving around. He thought about this new thing with Gina first. That had to stop. It was a mistake from the start, and he knew it. She would be much too demanding and needy and the sooner he could get away from her romantically the better. This would prove difficult with her still living with her parents in the same apartment complex as him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be living there though because he was back on track now with his finances and would have the down payment for that house in two paychecks.

But did he even still want to live there? Did he still want to do the whole house thing? Maybe the only reason he was aiming for that goal was because of Sarah in the first place. He had wanted to settle down and start a normal family life with the girl of his dreams. But that dream had turned into a waking nightmare and now he was not so sure what he wanted in life.

Deacon had always wanted to grow up to be a responsible family man, much as his father. He wanted to become dependable…and boring. Maybe he would take his family on vacation once a year, probably to Florida. Come home after work each day and watch sports, maybe read the newspaper and dream about the day he could retire.

But now his vision for the future had changed. He wasn’t sure anymore if he could ever fit the mold of a family man. Really, what did he know about fixing things and woodworking and fishing? The only things he was ever really good at from a young age was getting into fights and raising hell. Could either of those things really even count as talents or skills? It seemed like more of an accident than anything.

The next few hours went by quickly enough, Deacon had plenty of call-in fares and didn’t have to go out looking for any. He simply went where dispatch sent him and picked up who dispatch told him to. Two of the fares he picked up were from the airport. Those were always simple and to the point. People that were getting off a plane just wanted to get to their home or hotel room and crash. They weren’t looking for a therapist or a new friend, unlike much of the bar crowd that he would be facing in a few hours.

It was a little before midnight before he decided to flip off his working light and go on lunch. He stopped by his favorite little twenty-four-hour diner on the Southside. He relaxed in a booth and chowed down on some cheese fries and a double burger. After he finished, he realized he was still hungry and ordered another double burger to the surprise of the waitress on duty.

It surprised Deacon as well when he began to devour the second double cheeseburger of the evening. He had always displayed a healthy appetite, but this was downright ridiculous. It felt like his metabolism had been turned up so high that he needed twice the calories as normal. He left the diner soon after, feeling as though he could have still fit more in his stomach,

Before heading back on the road, he stopped to adjust his mirrors. Maybe it was just the lighting inside the car at night, but it seemed like his hair looked darker than normal. He made a careful examination, and it wasn’t just an optical illusion, his hair really did seem to be a shade darker now than it had been just a few weeks ago. Also, even though he had shaved his face yesterday, he could already see his facial hair growing back as more than stubble, as if it had been several days.

It was a strange observation for sure, but nothing more that he could do about it now. He just hoped he was not having some type of hormone imbalance that would require more doctors. Could a wild animal bite cause such a thing, or could this be some genetic condition? Again, nothing that he could figure out or fix in that moment, so he headed out once again.

Deacon drove around for a bit, took another call in, and by the time he had finished the last fare, there were no more fares lined up and ready to go. He then decided to do the thing he normally did on slow nights, he headed north towards a higher-class neighborhood. He ended up driving around for a time, and only drove a few more fares. It was now 5:24, and sunrise would be coming in the next hour. He was still in the northside, near to Michigan Avenue, when he pulled alongside an early hotdog stand setting up on the sidewalk for the morning. It had only been a few hours since he last ate, but his stomach was growling fiercely.

Deacon got out of the car and walked over. The man was still setting everything up, but when he looked up and saw a customer coming over, his grin spread from ear to ear. The man was vaguely ethnic, though it was impossible to tell exactly where he was from originally.

“Come on over, you hungry?” The man beckoned with a thick accent, his “R”s rolling heavily. Deacon guessed maybe eastern European?

“Yes I am.” Deacon replied with as much pleasantness as his apathetic Gen X sensibilities could muster. “How much for a dog?”

“Buck a piece. As many delicious Chicago dogs as you can eat young man.”

Deacon handed over a five and the man opened a fanny pack to retrieve some change. Deacon stopped him in his tracks.

“Five dollars’ worth.”

“I make ‘em big.” The older man warned. “Not many people can eat more than two without getting their stomach sick.”

“Five. I’ll be OK.” Deacon replied insistently.

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss!” The older man pulled a few off the grill and began preparing them. He loaded them with pickle relish, mustard, chopped onions, tomatoes, peppers and a dill pickle until the hot dog was completely buried within the sesame seed bun.

Deacon began tearing into one of them while he waited for the last two to finish. It was better than what he expected, there was something about a large street dog that could sometimes just hit that spot, but truthfully, he was eating more out of necessity, his body was screaming at him to feed it, than out of any enjoyment. He had the second bun raised and was coming in for a landing when his elbow was suddenly bumped hard, causing him to smear the mixture of mustard and relish across his face.

Deacon wheeled on the perpetrator, ready to unleash his anger, but he stopped when he saw only a young girl in front of him, roughly his own age, early twenties.

“Yo, watch where you’re going!” Deacon snapped but stopped himself before really laying into her.

That’s when he really noticed the girl in front of him. She was gorgeous by any standard of beauty, petite but still having curves in the right areas, long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with red scrunchy and a red headband holding her hair from her face. She was wearing a hoodie and a black White Sox windbreaker and a pair of oversized round sunglasses that covered a large amount of her face. Even with the common clothing, it didn’t hide her beauty and natural silver screen charisma, she still stood out like a sore thumb.

The girl looked him over, studying him as if he were a common zoo attraction, and he was about to get annoyed by it when she spoke.

“Are you the cab driver here?” She asked slightly confused while pointing at the cab he was leaning against. She was probably wondering the same maddening thing everyone did when they first saw him, was someone as young as he really a cab driver? The beauty noticeably lacked the classic Chicago accent, she pronounced her vowels and words too perfectly, like a newscaster. She pronounced her “T”s not as “D”s either.

“Yeah.” Deacon gave a sarcastic smile before taking a huge chomp out of the hot dog. She watched him with thinly veiled disgust. Obviously, whoever she was, she was a rich girl and had never partaken of the joys of street dogs before. He held out the second one, offering it to her. He had three more coming.

She looked even more disgusted and shook her head, but still did not move along. Oh well, her loss.

The blonde looked over her shoulder nervously, as if she were expecting someone to be following her.

“I need a ride quick. You got time?” She did her best to hide the arrogant privilege in her voice, but to Deacon, a born and bred Southsider, it might as well have come with a large blinking fog light.

“Here, here young man.” The old man handed the other three dogs over, they were so large they barely fit on the paper basket rimmed with checkerboard patterns he was handing over. He was also grinning suggestively at the gorgeous young girl and then back to Deacon. Deacon frowned and accepted the food.

“Get in.” He returned gruffly and then rounded the cab to enter the driver’s side. “Where ya headed?” Deacon asked when they were both inside the cab. He took the time to chow down on another one of the scrumptious dogs.

“I’m looking to kill a little time, I heard there was a nice art scene here in Chicago. Can you take me to one of the museums or something? I want to see the sights.” She announced majestically.

The fact that this rich girl wanted to waste her time looking at art made Deacon’s opinion of her lower even more. Girls like her got to spend their time with silly nonsense like looking at art while guys like him had to go to work. Still, it was his job to get someone to where they wanted to go, not to tell them how to spend their time.

“You got a preference?”

“You’re a local right? I trust your judgement. Take me to whichever one you prefer.”

“Whatever I prefer…right. I take it you’re not familiar with Chicago?”

The girl in the back shook her head while seemingly absorbed with looking at herself in a compact mirror. “I’m from LA, I’m just trying to get a feel for the area.”

“Right.” Deacon rolled his eyes, trying hard to keep sarcasm from coming out in his voice.

Deacon began heading towards Lakeshore Drive, fighting against the early morning traffic that was already starting along the downtown streets, much as it did every workday here in the city.

“Well Ms. LA, we’ll head down towards Soldier Field, there’s a lot to do over there. Ever been to Shedd’s Aquarium?”

“Nope.”

“Well, it’s a great place to start. If you wanna make a day out of it, I suggest heading over to Navy Pier after. It’s a great tourist spot.”

Deacon turned south onto 41 and drove the cab into the war zone that was early morning work traffic on Lakeshore Drive.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a cab driver?” She asked. Deacon rolled his eyes at the comment, he had been expecting it but had since dropped his guard.

“Yeah that’s what they tell me, fifty times a day. Gotta make money somehow right?” Deacon could tell it would be a long ride.