• 1 year ago
  • 45 min read
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I checked the display… three minutes away, thirty-five minute trip, and a decent rider rating. Of course, I accepted the trip. It was 2:15 am, bars closed fifteen minutes ago, and I lived a half hour south. With any luck, this passenger was going my way, a good end to a busy night of carting drunks home.

I pulled around the corner and checked the pickup spot again, yep, that cowboy bar, “These Boots.” The big neon sign flashed a cowgirl kicking up her booted feet and the flashing words beneath that said “Liquor and Dancing” in western script. I cringed a little, these cowboy folks tend to drink a lot and can get pretty rowdy. My momma always told me, “Nothing good ever happens after midnight.” And she was pretty much right. Something clicks after midnight and the drinkers get drunker, the quiet ones get loud, and the loud ones get ornery.

Several clusters of folks gathered around the entrance and they eyed my car as I pulled up, but nobody made a move towards my car. I felt a little dejected, if the rider wasn’t out here then they were probably in the bathroom, puking. I’ve seen it before. But it was my duty to get as many people home safely as I could; puke or no puke. I preferred no puke, but it wasn’t always that way.

I opened the car door and stood by it. The timer on the Uber clock ticked past three minutes, I can cancel at five minutes and make my $3.75, but I’d rather get this long ride home. I hollered out the name they gave me, “Cassidy!” Nothing happened for a few moments, then the crowd parted slightly as a figure approached.

Dark brown, almost black curly hair, probably a pretty face but it was rather dark and hard to tell, a damn sexy body dressed in full sexy bra-less cowgirl attire, and a rather distinguished limp on her… left foot. Yep, she limped hard up to the car, and nearly stumbled on the last step.

“Are you Cassidy?” I asked gently.

The noisy crowd snickered as someone muttered just loud enough for us to hear, “Bring out the Gimp!”

She whirled on the crowd, some of who now openly laughed and a few who seemed embarrassed by the evil comment. But most laughed.

“Cunts!” she yelled at them. More people laughed.

Seething with anger, she turned back to me and whispered, “Yes, please take me home.”

However, in her South Carolina accent, it sounded more like “Plays tike may ho-ume.”

She looked defeated as she slid into the backseat. I turned on the interior light so she could get her seatbelt buckled while I downloaded the ride information.

Fuck, I thought. Thirty-five minutes due north, so an hour-plus empty ride home after that. Oh well. At least she looks biologically stable.

She must’ve seen me cringe because she asked if Fairmont was okay.

“Yeah,” I reassured her. “No worries, I’m delighted to take you where you need to go.”

“Delighted, huh? Well I’d be delighted if you crashed into that truck over there, the one with the confederate flag in the back window.”

“Well, I could do that… but I need this car for tomorrow, so...”

I smiled and looked in the mirror as I spoke to her. She looked up and smiled at me for a moment, then she cast down her eyes again and looked down at her left leg. I turned off the interior light and pulled away from the bar, heading north on Main Street.

And, although I only caught a glimpse of her face, I saw that she was damn cute. Her smoldering dark brown eyes could set your heart on fire. But, even though she smiled at me, there was a definite sadness to her face.

Momma, you forgot this one: After midnight, the sad ones get sadder.

“So, uh, normally I ask my passengers how their night has been. But I’m kind of afraid to ask you…”

I let that hang there, testing to see if she wanted to talk. Sometimes people want to chat, sometimes they don’t. Doesn’t bother me, I won’t press them if they don’t want to have a conversation.

“Chuck wouldn’t dance with me. He wouldn’t even fucking dance with me.”

“I see… and Chuck is… the guy with the truck?”

“He’s a fucking asshole. And I hate him and his truck.”

This conversation wasn’t going so well, and it began to feel as if I was prying, which I don’t like doing.

“Well, miss, we’ve got a little over half an hour to go. Just sit back and be comfortable, I’ll get you home as soon and as I safely can.”

I could see her looking out the window as the closed-down shops went by. She wasn’t looking at them, though. She had that thousand yard stare.

“You know what, Mister Uber driver?”


“Okay, you know what, James? I don’t wanna go home no more. I want you to take me to that Motel Six they got out there. I ain’t fucking going home. I reckon you can change that for me?”

“Yes miss, gimme a minute or so.”

I fiddled with the Uber App and put in the new destination as she kept talking.

“You know, you’re like the fuckin’ modern day bartender, ain’t you? Do people ask you advice and shit? Tell you their problems? Oh shit… I’m sorry. Where I come from, if you ain’t swearing twice in one sentence people look at you funny. I’m trying to cut down but I’ve been fuckin’ drinkin’ and it slips out. Shit, sorry, there I go again.”

“Where’s that you’re from? And don’t worry, I’ve said some of those words myself.”

“I’m sorry, you’re just so proper and all. I was in the Marines. And you try to be one of the guys, ya know? And the guys swear. All the fuckin’ time.”

“Is that where you got the limp?”

She huffed and sat quiet for a few moments. “Yeah, I got a splinter when I was in the Marines.”

Properly rebuked, I apologized.

“Listen miss, um… Cassidy. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—“

“No, no, it’s fuckin’ fine. It’s just not fine with Chuck.”

I didn’t know what to do or say at this point. It seemed like most things I said were pissing her off. So I stayed quiet for a little bit.

“Well?” she asked. “Ain’t you gonna ask what isn’t fine with Chuck?”

“Sure, I just don’t want to make you

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Written by mojavejoe420
Cargado March 3, 2020
Notes Two lonely people meet, and fall in love.

Warning! Lots of story, some sex, also PTSD issues.
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