GREENE | CS55

05 - The Chase Is On

"Follow that car! Rápido señor!"

All in one swift (and surprisingly smooth) motion, Carlos budged in front of the crowd of people and entered into the empty taxi cab. The hoard of people wailed angrily, just as inebriated as Carlos was feeling.

Dubious, the cab driver twisted in his seat, setting a hand on the center console and taking in the sight of Carlos Sainz. The young man's hair was all awry, the thick locks tousled wildley and without a care on top of his head. Brown doe-like eyes bore back at him, bloodshot and alert. Determined, even.

"I don't know who you think I am, some kinda getaway driver. But this ain't like the old west you see on the movies, son. Nor is it a James Bond flick, or whoever the new hot-shot-big-time on the big screen is these days." His southern accent and unimpressed slow retort made Carlos shift nervously in his seat. He gripped the seat, fingers making an indent in the leather.

"Sir! Please! Vamos!"

"What? Is that your girlfriend, or something?" The man chided in an innocent and unknowing manner. "You say summin' to upset her? She leave ya standin' all on your lonesome?"

Carlos clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He looked onwards, past the cab driver, craning his neck to see if he could still see the yellow Ford that Pierce had left in. He was able to relax a bit seeing that the car was stuck behind a hoard of cabs and the like, squeezing through traffic at a snails pace.

"If I say yes, will you follow the damn car?"

The man shrugged, leather tugging on his barely buttoned-up polo as he twisted around to face the windshield. His hand plunged the signal lever downwards whilst letting out a grumble under his breath, "Better be getting a good tip, sonny. We're not meant to do that sorta thing..."

With an encouraging and celebratory pat on the mans shoulder, Carlos pointed a finger forward, reminding the man of the target in question before he sat back in his seat and entirely relaxed his body.

As the cab twisted and turned, navigating expertly through the late-night-early-morning Austin traffic, Carlos realized how poorly his stomach was holding up to the chase. He shut his eyes, clamped his tongue on the roof of his mouth, and allowed himself to pretend that he was on a yacht. The hot sun beaming down on his forehead, rewarding him with some Vitamin D after a hard-day's work. The sound of the ocean waves lapping against the side of the vessel. The fresh smell of brine lacing the wind as he walked to the bow of the ship, looking out on the coast of France. Maybe the Bahamas. Maybe it was Maui...

"Hey now, loverboy! Don't fall asleep on me now!"

Carlos was jolted back to consciousness, opening his eyes with horror and fear as he thrashed against the cracked leather in the back seat. The cab driver chuckled, his body vibrating with laughter. "Don't look so shocked. You told me to follow the car, I followed the car!"

Thankfully, those were just the words Carlos needed to hear to remind him why he was pulled up at a hotel that wasn't his own. Quickly, he mustered up as much sober thought as he could to throw himself into action. He took a glance at the meter and did his best to grab the equivalent of what he owed (plus a generous tip) out of his wallet.

The cab driver rolled his window down, cheering to Carlos with one last boisterous and encouraging call.

"Go get the girl, buddy!"

Shock and disgust immediately came through to Carlos' mind, materializing on his face as a scowl. "I—" Carlos began before shaking his head and deciding it wasn't worth finishing the correction. That there was absolutely no way he was doing this in pursuit of Pierce Greene. His lips clamped shut as he released the thought, giving the kind man one last wave.