Short Fiction: The stock trader who never escaped
“Turn left at this junction”, the Sat Nav chimed as Loucas reached the end of Cromwell Street. The pickup location was close but with few minutes to spare, he drove with less urgency. As he absorbed the victorian architecture, the Albert Museum towered up ahead while the grand Imperial College on his left oozed prestige and privilege.
It was a chilly afternoon, “okay” by British weather standards but Loucas still had his right window down with nothing but a white t-shirt. Taunting the cold virus to punish him for forgetting his jumper again. He turned left and an icy breeze skipped through his silver Lexus, as if mocking him for leaving the sunny weather back home. Not that he had a choice, it had been 3 years since the crisis.
“You have arrived at the destination”.
Loucas pulled in and turned off his engine with his customer nowhere in sight. Leaning out the window, he caught sight of a pretty brunette walking by. Unfortunately, he couldn’t catch her eye. At least, keeping a low profile was working. His dark, short cypriot hair complimented by his trimmed beard wouldn’t stand out in such a diverse city.
“Hi there, is this for Emma?” A woman in her later years magically appeared at the far window. She looked good for her age and had a youthful spark in her demeanor.
“Yes madam, ready whenever you are”. His dark voice, hid his native accent while leaving only his olive skin and the rest of his appearance open to interpretation.
“You sure do like your seat far back”, Emma slipped in the back while noticing the little space between the driver seat and the passenger behind.
“I need the legroom miss”, while putting on her seatbelt, she raised her chin to view the long legs that came with a 6 ft 2 man.
The car pulled away and off they went towards Canary Wharf, meaning plenty of time for chatter.
“So what do you do Emma, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Financial advisory, hedge funding if you are familiar”. As the pride rang through her voice, Loucas’ senses heightened but his composure stood firm.
“I’m not familiar, sounds complicated”, Loucas lied while flashes of his past life danced around his head.
“Have you always been a Taxi driver?” Emma quizzed while tapping away at her phone.
“Ahh yes indeed” Another white lie. The traffic was building up now, at least it wasn’t as bad as New York. “So what’s your story? You seem like the adventurous type”. Time to change the subject.
“At my age? Not anymore, at least compared to my years travelling” She looked up at that. He eyed the mirror, seeing fond memories of her younger years painted all over her face. Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief having dodged a touchy subject.
“Do tell, looking at the traffic I think we have time for one or two” Loucas grinned slightly. He looked forward to documenting this later.
Part 2 soon to come…
