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I don’t say anything. He wants me on this, he’s gonna have to work for it.
“Come on, man.” He says it like he’s coaxing a shy virgin out of her panties. “I gotta have you on this one—you know you’re my guy.”
“Don’t stroke me, man,” I laugh. “It doesn’t feel half as good as you think it does.”
“Look—I’ll pay you rate and a quarter.” I hear his chair squeak again. He’s sitting up straight. Ready to get down to business. “How’s that sound?”
Desperate, that’s how it sounds. “Double.” Unlike the other clowns he has driving for him, I have my own ride—a 2017 black Chrysler stretch. I don’t need him. If I had the time to build a clientele, I’d tell this fucker to jump in the Chicago River. And he knows it.
“Fuck—you’re pretty but not that pretty, Bennett.” He laughs. “I can drive it myself.”
Joe looks like Danny DeVito, only half as tall and twice as ugly. “Have fun, princess. Remember, the gas pedal is on the right.” I hang up and toss the phone on top of the dryer so I can start a load of towels. It starts rattling and buzzing before I even have a chance to add the soap.
“Bennett.”
“Rate and a half.”
I hang up. Measure out some laundry soap and pour it into the machine. The phone starts its rattle and buzz routine again.
“Bennet.”
“Double,” he huffs into the phone. “Guy requested you special. I can’t put anyone else on it.”
His admission piques my interest almost as much as it pisses me off. I get a bonus if I’m requested by name. A bonus he had no intention of giving me. I put that away for later. “What guy? I thought you said it was a bachelorette.”
“I dunno—some rich fucker out in the burbs. It’s his daughter getting married. Reservation came through online—some doctor type’s credit card paid the bill in full. That’s all I know.” He’s getting antsy. “You takin’ the double or what?”
“No—but I’ll take triple.” I don’t like being fucked with, and I hate being lied to. “And my bonus.”
Silence. Probably running the math in his head. When he comes to the same conclusion I did—that not only is he going to make a goddamned dime off me, but that my bonus is going to come out of his ass—he sighs. “Fine, asshole,” he breathes into the phone. “Triple.”
“And?” I slam the lid and spin the dial.
He curses under his breath. “And your bonus.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Joe.” I cut the call and toss the phone before he can start bitching.