One Shot: The Baby Project

KARA'S POINT OF VIEW. JUST GOT OUT OF THE AIRPORT TO TELL KALE ABOUT THE RECORD LABEL.

"I'm Kara Matthews." I say, shaking the man's hand before sliding into the dark space of the limo.

"My name's Tracy," the limo driver said, shutting the car door behind me. He hopped into the driver's seat and peaked through the black tinted window that separated us, the one supposedly used for 'privacy'. I snorted with laughter, trying to keep it in but failed to do so.

"What's so funny Ms. Matthews?" Tracy asked, arching his extremely bushy, black eyebrows. He wasn't a small man, I'm guessing about six foot, with a strong bone structure. He also had very toned, tan skin with black, short hair and a 5'o clock shadow. Maybe late 20's.

I manage to quit laughing and mutter, "Nothing." In response, he grumbled something inaudible, turning the car out of the Airport and onto a busy street. The man pushed a button near his arm and closed the window, blocking out the sound of his grunting that he made when he moved the steering wheel. That is really strange, I thought as my eyes wondered around the space.

It was colorful and fancy while being somewhat discomforting and suffocating, something that I'm totally not used to. Being by yourself back here is quite boring, being since there is nothing to do, no music playing or pop to drink. All they had was a bottle of wine, and the thing is, I would drink some of it but I knew I wouldn't be able to open it.

I sighed. This is going to be a long drive. Wait! Does he know where I'm going? A wave of confusion washed over me as I knock on the glass. Tracy forces a smile on his face and asked, "Yes, Ms. Matthews?"

"Do you know where I need to be?" I reply, suddenly remembering the slip of paper with the address, shoving it through the window so he could see. Without even glancing at the note, Tracy waved it away and went back to focusing at the road.

"Of course!" He chuckled,"Would you like some music on, Ms. Matthews?"

"Yeah, Mr. Tracy, " I smile, leaning back and finding my seat once more to sit and enjoy. He presses the radio and turns it up. The sound burst through the speakers like confetti, filling my ear drums full of upbeat pop. I couldn't help but start singing myself, but then the music volume went down and Tracy motioned to pick up the phone that was behind his seat. I did so, frowning, "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" I ask, plastering a confused face upon me. He looked into the mirror quickly, smiling as he saw me through the reflection.

"You sing like an angel, dear," his scratchy voice rung, making me realize he had an Australian accent. The comment made heat rise up to my cheeks and not to mention make me a little uncomfortable.

Instead of saying something like 'that's what they all say' or 'that's what they call me, I reply simply "Thanks," shrugging like singing was effortless. But hey! It actually was, so shrugging was the right move. Should I say something nice back or would that be weird? I slouched back and sighed, bored out of my mind.

I should of said something nice back. Crap, now I feel bad, "So..." I start to try to keep the conversation, "How'd you become a limo driver? Have you driven celebrities? Are there famous limo drivers?" I smack him in the face with questions.

He slows down at a stop light and turns around, looking a little startled before putting on a small grin and letting a chuckle escape his lips, "No, I don't think there are. Nor have I driven any celebrities before. But you know, Ms. Matthews, I'm not really sure. I have always been a good driver and when my wife had her baby three years back, we needed the money. So, I took this as a second job. But since business was bad back at my other job, they laid me off. I had to take this as a full time job. " I look into his eyes, his sorrowful, deep brown eyes. And now I feel worse. The flashy stop lights switched from red to green behind his back.