"Piss off." I spat towards the woman screaming in my ear about my car taking up two parking spaces right outside the bank on 5th street. A short, fat, and rather witch looking woman who completely reeked of menopause and cat food.
"Listen, bitch. You really think I'm gonna let anyone scratch up this car, ah? "
A 1989 ferrari 348 TS, glistening from a fresh coat of paint applied less than 10 hours ago. I honestly couldn't believe I was having this argument, and could only come to the conclusion that this woman was definitely not worth my time.
"Move the car, sir. It's in your best interest." Said a man, who had been clearly eavesdropping in on the argument.
I removed the thick Italian cigar from between my lips and turned to the voice that wanted my attention. "Hey, hey. You shut your mouth."
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
My pager.
"As much as I'd love the continue to argue with you idiotic baboons, I gotta take this." I cheesed, a smile that would only piss someone off, no matter the situation.
Digging into every pocket of my special edition Givenchy suit, I finally came across my pager. But suddenly, the buzzing stopped. A message.
"Shit." I mumbled to myself, eyeing the recipient that beckoned for me through technology. Milan.
Oh man, is she going to kill me..
I turned back to the two fuck heads trying to ruin my good mood, and smooth out the crisp shoulders of my suit. "I'm a bit late for a dinner with my wife. You know women, the gal wants me to 'chop chop'" I laughed erratically, and quickly cleared my throat.
"Good evening to you both." With that, I go around to the side of my car and hop inside, not giving either people a chance to retaliate on my rather random decision to leave. It's warm, as it is the middle of summer. I don't like it. Summer is Milan's favorite season.
Shifting the car into drive, I pull out of the two parking spaces I had taken up, and swiftly pull off.
Ring. Ring. Ring!
This had to be important. First she paged me, now a call? But this time, I was fully prepared to respond. Reaching down into a small glove compartment, I pulled out a large, clunky gray cellphone. Continuing to hold it up to my ear, I looked up into the mirror of my car to give myself a sharp wink. "Talk to me, babe."
