The black cracked pavement is illuminated by the setting sun, the plains of dirt on either side kicked up by the racing 1965 red Pontiac ignoring the speed limit of middle of nowhere Nevada. The shadow of looming skyscrapers, the city becoming black and speckled with light, barely towering close enough to consume the track of shining pavement.
Matthew shoots awake, neck cracking and popping from his back bending position, leaning over in his bucket seat. Loud groans fill the car as he cradles his head, hands shaking. Pink light streaming through the windows, bathing the interior of white leather a rosy hue. Sunlight streaming by him, scattered light by a black trash bag illuminates the back seat and roof.
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head! How’re you feeling?” Past the ringing sounds, a chipper voice makes it through. Black heels tipped over by his feet are the first things he sees, peeking past his blinding headache. The stale air barely doing anything to clear his mind.
Same tiny black dress, eyes fixated on the road, continuing to eat her chocolate mousse, sits his driver. Using the side of her left hand to steer, holding the glass cup by her fingers while her other holds the metal spoon in her mouth.
“Wha- why are you driving my car?” The light from the setting sun blinding him as he looks up. Shielding his eyes before palming them before getting used to the light change. Looking about, his rearview mirror is moved from its normal position, the wooden dashboard the same as ever with its barely noticeable scratches. The radio has been messed with, only for it to have been muted, the never ending plains of cracked dirt become streaks of brown from the speed.
“Excuse you? I just got you out of having to pay your tab! You should be thanking me,” The demon points at him, looking over to notice his fatigued state and bleary eyes. A small laugh escapes her lips, now peach colored eyes back on the road, catching the blue sign zooming by. Having read just in time, ‘Welcome to the City of Silver Salt, Nevada! The Home of the Skyscraper that Touches the Heavens!’ Her eyes almost roll as fast as the wheels at the words.
“Tab? Shit, my jacket,” He slicks his hair back, his head returning to its bowed position, eyebrows furrowing even more. The ringing in his ears slowly begins to subside as the roar of the racing road begins to replace it. The rumble of the engine being the other thing keeping him steady, the voice of the woman next to him doing the opposite.
Unable to see his headache induced glare, “Nope! It's in the back, next to whatever the hell is in that bag. By the way, what's in there?” She places her spoon back in the now empty cup before gesturing back towards the rumble seat, “Couldn't get a look before the cook came out waving around a frying pan at me.”
Unlistening and fed up, “Why the fuck are you driving my car!” He blows up as they now become swallowed by the shadow of the colossal cityscape, specifically the one tower that is taller than the others. Specifically the one that lines up directly with the road and shadows the sides. Quickly, the lack of light blinds him yet again in the midst of the ride.
“Jeez! Well aren't you in a bad mood,” The chocolate stained cup almost drops from her hand, the metal clattering against the glass, “I just said, the diner people got pissy because of the blood and I got you out of there. Not that hard to follow along, babes.”
A continuing animosity builds in the air, the stuffy cabin made no better from the musk from the back seat. The city of flashing brightness comes more into focus, the rumbling road starts to even out from the lack of cracks.
“Don't call me babes,” his eyes refuse to stray from the incoming towering lights, the multitude of cars and traffic beginning to make themselves more known.
With a scoff, “You just don't like anything, do you now, Mr. Bueller,” she says.
Small shrubbery on raised green grass platforms shoot past, replaced by towering gray and glass. Lights from the building's advertisements and streetlight light up the looming darkness, replacing the incoming night. Pedestrians walk on the sidewalks in casually fancy clothing, only now noticeable from the slowing speed. The demon, yet to reveal her name, places the glass on the top of the dash, next to some scattered papers that reflect reversed words and sigils on the windshield.
Glass walls reflect the lit up billboards plastered on the sides of the buildings, the streetlights reflecting just as much red as the advertisement for Coca-Cola. Whimsy signs telling of highly priced objects and consumables light up above the streets. Some of clothing brands, with obviously European names, some for medical insurance or whatnot, with the classic brunet bureaucrat with a receding hairline smiling down on the streets he assumes he owns.
Breaking up the silence, Matthew turns his eyes away from the spectacle, “Shouldn't you be back in hell?”
“Nah, the party was getting boring anyways,” with a shrug and right hand playing with her pearl necklace, she continues to take in the scene of honking cars and arguments during the traffic stand still. The road in front of them continues forward, soon splitting into two beside the building right beyond the light.
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The light continues to stay red, the traffic ahead only moving towards the left on the one way streets. Still on the same main road in which they came in on, the one way road only becoming itself now once in the city. Pedestrians continue to walk on the crossing, one man ignoring it and jaywalking right in front of their car. He shoots finger guns at the lady in the driver's seat, whitish-blue eyes flashing, highlighting the black sclera.
The traffic finally begins to move again once he makes it to the other side of the street, Now finally moving again, she picks the conversation back up, “So where are we going?”
Her eyes catch his as she looks over for an answer, “I thought you were going to tell me. You know, cause you're the contractee, and this is your car,” she continues forward, making it past the green light, following the yellow cab in front of her.
His face stays shocked still, mind blank for a moment. He opens his mouth for a second, but closes it, wondering what he is supposed to do. Rather than questioning anything, he simply relaxes back in his seat.
“Just-,” he sighs, “continue down the main road, take a left when I tell you,” he begins to fiddle with the radio, turning it up just slightly. Flipping through the channels, intermittently looking up to check on where they are, passing songs and talk shows. Finally, after making it through about 20 stations at rapid pace, he lands on Smooth Operator by Sade.
The light in front of them is luckily green, “Take this left,” and the escort follows the flow of one way traffic to the left. Turning down the street that slowly shifts from business buildings to apartments and further down, townhouses, “At the first intersection, take a right.”
Turning right, away from the townhouses, the tall apartment buildings of floor to ceiling glass encase them on both sides. The glass seems to continue on forever, almost a copy of the main street, “Continue down till the third stop sign, it’ll be the sixth building on the right.”
The 1965 red Pontiac pulls up to the right sidewalk, the headlights flickering out. Matthew steps out first, pulling his seat forward to access the back seat, she busy putting her heels back on, threading the buckle. He pulls out his trenchcoat and the trash bag, as she brings her empty snack with her out of the car, leaving the keys. She starts walking to the apartment building's door, before being stopped by Matthew running from the car up to her, hand out.
She points back to the car, his hand dropping. The brunet goes back to the car and takes his keys, as well as the papers left on the dash. Running back up the three stairs to the door, the demon straightens up from her leaning against the cement wall, raising an eyebrow when he stops before putting his key in the door, looking at her.
“You’re really going to stay here? Not go back to hell?” Matthew’s hand stays still in its place, holding the key before the lock. Balancing the trenchcoat over his left arm, the trash bag in his hand separating them.
“I’ve already left the party, can’t go back in now,” with a shrug she leans against the left glass door, eyes flickering down to his still hand and back to his face. A ‘go ahead’ tilt of her head the last she gives him.
With a click of his tongue he unlocks the main door to the building, letting her through first. Continuing through, she pauses in the middle of the foyer taking in the modernist setting. All the lights are turned off, except the one over the lobby clerk to the right of the stairs, and of course, the one before the door. The lobby clerk is slumped over the polished dark gray granite top of the desk, her rolling chair somehow keeping her sitting, not yet having let her fall to the floor.
Matthew comes back from locking the door behind him, finding the demon with her eyes trained on the grand bifurcated stairway of white marble with a lack of underside, leading to the upper floor and elevator. Making his way to the clerk's station, the black bag makes sloshing sounds in tandem with the footsteps.
Tapping the girl on the shoulder, she shoots up, drool noticeable on the side of her mouth that quickly gets wiped away, “Matthew! You’re back late, everything alright?” The girl says in a chipper tone, her gold nameplate reading ‘Mandy.’
“Hey Mandy, everything's fine. Where’s Andre?” The girl's spirit wears down for a moment, before her eyes catch the girl behind Matthew, “Shouldn’t he be working the nightshift?”
“Oh, yeah. He had to run out, his brother called about something. Who’s your friend?” The demon behind his shoulder gives the clerk a quick wave, fingers the notice point. The clerk gains a bashful smile for a moment, brushing her dyed green hair behind her ear, going back to Matthews' annoyed face.
“She’s,” His head turns around for a moment, noticing the smug look on the tall girl's face. With a tight face he turns back to Mandy, “She’s just visiting. I was wondering if the elevator was working tonight.”
“Of course! The lightning has seemed to calm down the past couple days, hell, it hasn’t even rained tonight yet. You can try it out yourself real quick to make sure.” As Matthew walks up the stairs to the elevator on the second floor, the demon stays behind and takes a step closer to the clerks desk.
“So, Ms. Just Visiting, how’re you liking the city? The traffic any kind to you tonight?” Mandy tries to make small talk, eyes lingering on gold earrings, three small hoops joined as one. Looking back to orange eyes, she notices the makeup she’s wearing, nothing out of place or smeared. Smokey eyes and pink lips, beautiful natural eyelashes.
“Can’t say it was any good, but I haven’t been around the city all that much either. Maybe you could show me around, Mandy?” She leans over the desk, the glass and spoon hidden slightly by her crossed arms. Looking down at brown doe eyes from the slightly raised edge of the desk.
“I’d be happy to, but I’m a little tied up here during the day. Maybe when I’m off?” Mandy questions back, playing with the pen in her hands.
With a smirk, the demon props her head on her hand while crossing her left leg behind her right, “I wouldn’t mind going out in the night with you, if that’s what-”
“Are you coming?” Matthew unfortunately interrupts the two, holding the elevator door open as she makes it to the beginning of the stairs.
As she makes her way up, “See you later Mandy,” the demon says with a quick wave of her right hand, the left still holding the mousse glass.
“You too,” She rests her head in her hands for a moment before realizing, “Wait, I didn’t get your name!”
The elevator doors shut.