A Love Deal.

Mr. Stranger.

-Maeve Callista Stewart-

Are you pronouncing my name right? You probably aren't. I don't blame you, though. I have no idea, why my Mom chose this name for me, as well. It means intoxicating beauty.

My mom..

She abandoned us when I was eleven but I remember every bit of the night when she told us that she is moving to California with her new husband. I'm twenty-one now but still immature.. that's what my Dad says.

I live with my fifteen years old brother whom I've taken care of since he was five, and Dad who works at a small shop close to our house and I on the other work as a taxi driver. I drive from 12:00 pm till 4:00 pm. Yes, I hate my job but it's just temporary.. that what I've been telling myself since two years.

I always wanted to be writer but you gotta be smart for that..

Haha, no. I'm pretty smart and I really want to become a famous writer some day. Huh! Just as to begin gradually, I've applied as a digital content writer, more as a creative director in few companies. I have had my bachelor's degree in marketing creative field and have a pretty good experience.

I press on the brake pedal as I see a tall young man in a neat suit standing in a sort of outdoor Parking lot in front of an enormous building. However, he looked pissed and frustrated.

He comes over to my car and immediately gets in the back seat. I took a glance at him from the rare-view mirror and he looked a bit disturbed but nonetheless, handsome and hot. He had slight distraction in his attractive green eyes. Why does rich people have all the beauty? Like, leave some for us poor people, too!

"Where to go, sir?" I ask him politely.

He looks at my boring brown eyes from the mirror for a second before he speaks, "To the nearest coffee shop," his voice was deep and quick.

Nearest coffee shop? That's only three miles away, why do you need a taxi for it? Maybe he is just in a hurry.. or maybe, he wants to waste his money because he is feeling like it.

I judge my customers a lot! It's a good thing they can't hear my thoughts.

I nod and start to drive. "Do you want me to play music?"

"No, thank you." He already sounded irritated so, I didn't ask him or talk to him any further.

I try to communicate with my customers to build a friendly and comfortable environment in the car so that nobody strangles me from behind.. seriously, I've seen plenty of documentaries on it, where a person threatens the driver and rob them.

"You seem in a bit of disturbance, sir. You alright?" I can't keep my mouth shut.

"Why do you care?" He has his eyes on the window, with a scowl on his face.

"Oh I don't, I'm just bored and trying to have a communication," I shrug as I turn the steering wheel to the left.

He doesn't say anything and ignores me. Rich brat.

Is he a robber? A psychopath? Dad said, don't give a ride to a maniac. But then again, why would a maniac be in a suit?

After a silent 15 minutes ride, I finally drop this good-looking office man to his destination.