Race Gets A Job

Lucius ushered Race into his office with a warm smile. The office smelled like motor oil and leather. Race liked that.

Lucius waved the DMV report for emphasis. “Everything looks good.”

“The speeding violation doesn’t bother you?” Race asked.

Lucius shook his head. “Taxi drivers are expected to press the limits to make the customers happy. Of course, if you get caught more than once every five years or so, you probably have a problem.”

Race smiled confidently. “No, sir. Just the one time.”

Lucius nodded. “Well, I’d like you to start right away, Horatio.”

Race’s smile blossomed, full of teeth. “Excellent, sir. But if I’ll be working for you, I should let you know that nobody calls me by my given name. They call me ‘Race’.”

“Your nickname is ‘Race’?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t mean I drive fast. Or crazy.”

A look of unease began to darken Lucius’s face. “It doesn’t?”

“No, sir. It’s just a nickname.”

Lucius’s eyes went to the report. “Mm-hmm.”

Race flashed Lucius a cocky smile. “Would you prefer ‘Crash’?”

View this story's 2 comments.