On A Dime

ricky_icon.png tilly_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: streets of Las Vegas

When: September 13, 2012; Lunch

What: Just your average cab ride. Mostly.

It's a bit far to walk between campus and the Law Offices of Bailey, Foss, and Caldecott. But if Zan wants lunch that he doesn't have to pay for, then a trip off campus requires something more than his own two feet to get him there. Since buses are often unreliable, and his mom is even more a stickler for scheduling than his dad — or more frightening than his dad when things are behind schedule — he's opted for a cab ride instead. With any luck, the matron of the Caldecott family will reimburse the costs.

So, the mayor's son called for a cab. And with the prospects of a lunch on Mom's dime in mind, he stands on the curb waiting for the ride to arrive. And playing with his phone.
Ironically, she'd been a little peckish. She'd missed lunch, and a 'dime' was exactly what she was chewing on when she'd pulled up to Zan. Ricky swallows the damned thing (it was faster and probably cheaper than stopping for skittles anyway), and then turns her head to look over her shoulder as she rolls down the window,"You Caldecott? Where to?" Her voice is… surprisingly gravelly, actually.

Zan's gaze tick up as the cab rolls to a stop in front of him. The backseat door is opened with one hand while his pack slides off the opposite shoulder to proceed him into the vehicle. "Uh… yeah," he answers, some vague amusement found on the question. Cross streets are given, along with the name of his mother's business as he settles into the back seat with his bag beside him and phone still in hand.

And the other door is opening - Ricky can catch the blur of a person who's boarding her lifeblood. With a whuff and a groan there's a tall older blonde easing into the seat behind Ricky, the door closing firmly behind her. "God. The heat. It's murder I tell you" She shifts enough to look at Ricky in the rearview mirror "I'm going where he's going" thumb jerked in Zan's direction. Stitchs marching into her hairline at her temple, looking they're getting very close to needing to be taken out, Tilly flashes a smile to Zan with eyes hidden behind her mirrored aviators.

"Hey there glow worm, how ya doing? How's your mother?"

Ricky flicks her eyes in the mirror as yet another person boards the cab. She shrugs and says to Tilly,"Your buck, lady." Clearing her throat as if there were something stuck in it, she puts the cab in drive and takes off with the trademark jerky start of all cabbis everywhere,"Yeah. 'Tellin' me. Try managing it in a jacket. Used to it bein' a little colder where I'm from."

If Zan's at all surprised at seeing Tilly, he hides it well. Though as expected he gives a shake of his head at the name he's been tagged with today. "Mom's good," he answers, and somehow manages to sound like he's talking to an aunt rather than someone he hadn't expected to see again. "Requesting my presence for lunch in effort to catch up with me. You know how it goes." He glances down at his phone then tucks it into his pocket. "I'm good, keeping out of trouble. —Enjoying the heat." He grins faintly and casts a glance toward Ricky.

"You, keeping out of trouble, quaint" Tilly looks to Ricky, offering up a bit of a wry grin. "He's going to see his mom" The address rattled off to the driver since Zan hasn't relayed it yet, easing back in the seat and working at getting her seatbelt on. "Hi there…" She makes a play of looking for the permit and the name on it. "Ricky. This here is Zan. Caldecott. Mayors son. Budding filmmaker" Back to Zan. "Still a budding filmmaker yes?"

Ricky lifts a shoulder a bit,"Sorry. Not familiar with her. Just moved here not too long ago." She's quiet for a moment,"Budding filmmaker eh? Back in Cali, got a million and a half of them. Not as common here, I think? Thought everyone here wanted to strike it rich at the casinos." She punches in a few number to her GPS, and puts t on silent. "Wow. You Nevadans sure do like it dry. You, and people from LA."

The agent beside Zan earns herself a look when she introduces him to the driver. "Y'know, not everyone cares who my dad is," he asides to her. Then, before answering anything toward his dreams and goals he says, "She's Tilly, a bit nosy and supposedly my conscience. And yes, I'm a filmmaker. Or planning to be one day, right now I'm just a student."

"His nose gets super long too when he lies, keep an eye out for that" Tilly remarks, enjoying almost, the comparison to Jimeny Cricket. "What's the word purple bird. Not from around here. You from LA?" Because she just totally said that. "What brings you to the city of sin. How long you been here. What is-" Tilly leans forward, resting her chin on the edge of the seats that divide the both them, these cabs not some NY cab where the twain shall never meet. "the secret of life" She looks back at Zan. "You filming this cupcake?"

Ricky frowns a little bit at this,"Oh. Yeah. Well… I'll try to care more when I'm eligible to vote in this city. Parental issues? Yeah, that's common for the 'child of a political figure' demographic. Supposedly the intense focus required on career is… Ah, listen to me go on like a dimestore psychologist. Everyone's an expert these days, huh?"

She flicks her eyes back to Tilly for a moment through the rearview, and proceeds to answer the questions rapidfire,"No, Texas. Looking for work. Only a little while. And 42."

"No," Zan says to Tilly, holding up empty hands. Chances are, however, he's got a camera in that bag of his. Then to Ricky, "… Uh. Okay. That's not quite how I meant it. Rather it isn't really something that needs to be flaunted everywhere." The family is public enough as it is without it being pointed out to everyone who his dad is. "…Should I be filming this?" That's posed to Tilly, and he sounds a little dubious.

"You should always be filming. The world doesn't stop just to let you turn on your shit and auto-focus. Am I right Ricky? Tell me I'm right" Back tilly leans, sliding an arm across the top of the back seat, stretching out as much as she can. "Texas. Go aggies and all that bullshit. If you like football. But I think you don't like football. Nor, do I think you are a dime store shrink"

Ricky wrinkles her nose a little bit as she cuts off one car in the learned disregard cabbies develop for other peoples' rights in raffic. All while maintaining a casual air,"I don't like football. Until recently, I was in Northcal, though, so I suppose that's no surprise. Wine country and all that. And I suppose she's right in one way. Never known when something amazing will happen, you know? Isn't that how a lot of people get famous?"

Zan looks from Tilly to Ricky then back again. He crosses his arms against his chest, then glances aside to his pack. "Yeah, that's true enough." He's seen enough things that could be classified as amazing. Letting out a sigh, such a sound as if he's being put upon or resigned to some worse fate without the seriousness that usually comes with it. He pulls his pack into his lap and digs out his camera. A fancy, high definition device that he takes care of changing settings before setting it to record.

"Listen to her, She's smart" Tilly offers, watching Zan whipping out the camera and setting it to record. She's reaching over for it then, using a wee bit of force if she has to, lifting it up to turn the recording end on Zan. "Smile pumpkin!" And then to Ricky and the rearview mirror. "The secret of life isn't 42. The secret of life, is that we all die and there's shit all we can do about it. So we have to enjoy it while we can. Do you enjoy your life there Ricky?" And then camera turns back to zan. 'What about you cupcake?"

Ricky actually reaches down beneath her seat to reassure herself that her tire iron is there, because Tilly…? Is kind of creeping her out,"Sir, you said you know this woman?" She flicks her eyes to the rear view mirror now, and says,"I'm sorry, Miss… Who did you say you were?" Cabbies see some real weirdoes sometimes.

Force isn't necessary, though Zan is fairly reluctant to give up his camera. "Yeah, okay," he says as Tilly commandeers the filming. A quasi-smile, more ill than humored, is granted to the recording. "Just be careful with it. Yeah, I know her." That's directed to Ricky, and though it's a little strained he tries to sound placating. "Tilly, can I have it back now? Before it gets broken?"

The camera is relinquished with a sigh, a palm sliding to her midriff to scratch at stitchs hidden there. That the holster at her waist seen by Zan, possibly by Ricky, but there's a badge and a marshal's star being held up. "US Marshal, Marshal. Go ahead and laugh, I get it a lot" That her last name is also her job title. "Family friend. I just hadn't seen him in a while and what with near death experiences, well" Well. "Don't worry, he's cool. No black marks on his record"

Ricky actually relaxes visibly when she glances in the mirror to see the badge at the woman's waist alongside the holster. "Well then… Huzzah. I wasn't going to ask. I give rides to all types, you know. Not my place to ask about their criminal record. Otherwise, in this town, I'd probably almost never get a fair. You know how these things are though. Can't be too careful. Near death experiences, huh? Sounds scary."

Zan's hands grasp the camera with no lack for care. He could be accepting a puppy or a package of nitroglycerine. The holster and badge are ignored, probably because he's focused on turning the camera off again and stowing it safely in his bag. That and he must be used to the the presence of feds, being the Mayor's son and all. His attention doesn't return to the marshal until she mentions near death experiences. "That why you're looking like Frankenstein's bride?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you" Tilly shakes her head, tucking away the badge. "And hey, I resent that. I'm a blonde thank you and proud of it." TIlly tosses her hair as much as one can in the taxi, running her hand mockingly over the stitches and her hair. "Besides, I make this look good. Watch, it'll be on the milan runways next year. Hey, you're stop is coming up"

Ricky frowns a little bit, even as she's begins pulling to a stop,"Okay, well, you two be careful out there, okay That heat can get even saavy natives let alone people like me."

Cash for the fare is produced while the cab comes to a stop. Zan offers it through the window before he lets himself out, bag in tow. "Thanks," Zan says to Ricky. A nod and two fingered salute is given to Tilly. "Sure you will, Ms. Marshal. I'll be sure to tell my folks you say hi."

Tilly lets Zan paying and get out, not making a move yet from the back of the cab. Why, Zan won't know because there's just a salute let off for him in return. She waits till he's gone before producing a twenty, offering it to Ricky as well, in addition to what Zan paid. "Thanks for the ride. You be careful out there. Shitty things happen in this town"

Ricky accepts the money duely, producing change forthwith,"Yeah, I agree. Don't worry though. You get robbed the first twenty times, you start to get a little saavy to the ways of the world." And possible develop a penchant for eating gun barrels and things like that "You take care of the guy, okay."

"He needs so much. I'm not his fairy godmother though" And with that, Tilly's easing out of the taxi, closing the door behind her. Only to flag down a black SUV that's been apparently tailing, and hopping into it. Carefully.

Ricky picks up her phone after waving for the two, to answer another call for pickup. A hotel or some other, and pulls out from the curb in classic "I aim to leave rubber behind" speed. Apparently speed limits are for people without cab driver permits.

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