Hamid drove uptown through the dim Manhattan traffic. He swallowed three oxys dry, rubbing his throat to force them down.
The pickup was always easy, fast, and reliable. Back onto the streets he would go. He sped past potential patrons, ignoring their plight for a ride. Hamid had more important business to attend to; his top customer had requested eighty pills. Hamid was all too eager to get rid of the bulk at a discount and make his money back with a small profit and be on to his smaller customers who bought the pills a few at a time.
He pulled up to the downtown loft, and John Chambers met him outside. A woman standing by the building concerned Hamid. He rolled down the window
“Hamie, baby, how’s cabbing tonight?” John asked. Hamid eyed the girl who was wearing a pair of sunglasses, standing out like a sore thumb in the night air. “You know I don’t like surprises.”
“She’s no problem. That’s my girl.”
“Don’t care, Johnny!”
A pause. “Listen, Hamie, if it’s all the same to you, can you take us uptown? We’ve got reservations.” “What about business?”
“On the way,” he said, opening the door. “In the back, baby,” he ordered. And before he could breathe, Hamid had two passengers and was headed uptown with business to be dealt with.
Quickly, the rain started to fall with emotions of indifference.