"Shit's all I can say," his fists clenched as he grasped the eviction notice. "Need'a go to this interview."
Releasing his frustrations in a brief sigh, he laid back on the futon and stared at his popcorn-messed ceiling. The day before, he had gotten ahold of an interview for this rich-looking family at the other side of the city. The Sone Family they called themselves. Needed a driver for their daughter, and fortunately James has all the qualifications of a great driver for the rich.
Silent, advanced in driving, and not a blot' in his history.
He stood up groggily. Excusing the bottles of beer cans out of the way as he challenged himself towards his bathroom, grabbing the towel along the way from a heap of subpar-clean clothes. He groaned as the electric huzz and intensity of the bathroom light blasted and sanitized his morning eyes.
"God." Cold water.
He cried to himself, wading into the chill of the shower.
After suffering the chill, drying himself, and getting dressed (his sunday best). He left his beat-down condo. Not even bothering to lock the door. It was a two-storey condo, the outside just as beat-down as the inside of his room, maybe even a little worser. "Goodmorning James."
"Morning, grandma." James, with a smile, waved at the weak old woman, she was his neighbor. Poor lady, having to live in this kind of environment. Where's her children to take care of her? Haven't they any morals?
Steadily making his way down the iron staircase at the end of the skinny hallway, he lit himself a cigarette from a half-empty pack of them stuffed inside the inner-pocket of his worn navy-blue suit.
Inhale.
Exhale.
That was nice. As nice as the other thousand puffs of the month. The thrill of the cigarette never seemed to die down for him, even after all those years.
On the parking lot, he opened the door of his ragtag Hondo Civic, it's ran for nineteen years, and has seen alot of things. The side of his car's been keyed numerous times, the back and front dented after the many accidents and intentional crashes. Life's hard. But he and his wife (the car) has been together throughout it all.
Driving back and carefully exiting, he let the radio run and the windows down.
Overcast and lightly raining, he basked in the coolness of Tokyo, checking his flanks as he turned a narrow road.
The radio was spatting some incident that happened yesterday, coincidentally the same time he entered his resume.
[Yesterday noon, the boss of the crime syndicate (Tanaka Tanaka) that the MPD have been chasing for the better part of a year was found tied, beaten, shot, and thrown out of the Forest Tower building. The perpetrator of the assasination has yet to be found. Though the police are in whir of worry, could this be the front of a mafia war? And how will Tokyo respond? Should we be happy for the death of bad man, or should we fear for a storm ahead?]
"Bunch'a hoopla' that is." Mused James, turning the radio to a music station.
In the heart of Tokyo, the Sone Family's main residence was this tall skyscraper, fourth in all Japan. Apparently, the whole thing was a penthouse utopia, it housed all of the staff, the maids, the butlers, and all needed to support it. So many rooms, and so many rooms for entertainment and pleasure. It span two-hundred-fifty meters high, fifty-five storeys great, and a whole lotta windows and money poured in it's walls.
Frankly, James didn't care if the rich got richly material enjoyment. What he cared about, was living another day and being able to support his mother in the countryside.
Nearing, he slowed down and stopped at the entrance of the parking lot (the garage). He peaked his head out to talk to the officer, "are you the chaffeur to-be interviewed, sir?"
"Yes. Yes I am."
"Please make your way in, your interview room lies in floor fifty-six."
"Fifty-six?" James, confused, questioned. "Aren't there only fifty-five floors in this building?"
"The roof, sir."
"The... Roof. Gotcha, the roof. Right." He was entirely dumbfounded.
The battered Honda Civic was slowly driving amongst a whole courtroom of luxurious sports cars, vintages, and for God sakes even a chariot. The lighting was an unusual yellow lit up by the lanterns on lamp posts like those ones in England. "What the shit?"
There was one empty spot in the garage, perfectly residing in the corner, where no other car was, and where the musk, grime, and all sorts of leeky water stuff were. Getting out, he made his way to the only entrance, it was cladded in marble, and looked like those ones in a mall. Just a little more pretentious.
The very second he opened the glass double door, he was immidiately greeted with the coldness, that air-con running on high. And the most royal-looking, and most stereotypical douchebag-looking hallway ever. The walls were full on marble, with roman columns clad in gold, actual gold! A red carpet spanned the whole hallway all the way to the end of it.
James was little consious of his standing. Taking nervous steps outside of the red carpet, avoiding to touch the walls, or even walk on the marbled-flooring. He was tip-toeing his way to the other side.
Finally at the other end, he opened the door.
The entrance of the skyscraper, it's lobby, was an outstanding piece of asshole richery. From atop a stage, Clair De Lune was being played by a whole twenty pieced orchestra. And from the other side of the large room; Beetlejuice was performing for (James assumed) the children of the Sone family. He quietly made his way to the only stairs in the lobby (the elaborate grand stair case) but he was caught by a boy.
"Ah, you are our new chaffeur. Or to-be." He smiled, "well, I hope you don't screw up in an interview. That'd be pretty bad." His mischevious grin gave James the creeps. Weakily and in a whole world of third-party pain, he walked up the stairs and towards the elevator.
As he pressed the button, a black man waited inside, his hands pressed to his chest in a formal pose. But soon after seeing him, he reverted to a lax one. "Where you headed man?"
"Top one, the roof they said, for a God damned interview."
"Shit!" He chuckled out as the elevator doors closed, "guess you're the new driver then. Hopefully I'll get to see you again tommorow."
James tilted his head aback, "what'dya mean by that?"
"Look man, the Sone's some heads of crazies. I've been at it with this elevator job for a year and've seen ten chaffeurs come in, out, yet never back again the next day. You're the eleventh one and I gotta say, whatever them Sones are up to with the chaffeurs... Be careful, is all I can say."
"God damn."
"God damn's right." He chortled.
"But why the roof though?" James added to the conversation.
"Don't know." He shrugged, "you drivers are the only ones who go there for an interview, I was, like the others, interview in floor thirty."
James sighed.
The elevator dinged.
As the doors opened, he was greeted by the sun, the sky, and the city. A group of sillhouetes were hanging out inside a gazebo. He gulped.
"Just don't die man."
"Got my cross ready," James exited the elevator with a determined face put on.
As soon as he stepped out, a tall figure from the gazebo called out to him, "you've finally came! Come now!"
"Yes, sir." He bowed in absent respect.
Head still bowed down, he walked and entered the gazebo.
"Raise your head, we aren't royals."
"You live more royal-like than the dang imperial family." He thought, raising his head.
There was an old woman, a stern-looking old man, and a girl (James assumed she was about grade seven). The woman was sweet looking, like his mother. Yet the old man looked more like a drill seargent who's constantly in the state of irritation that someone like Gunnery Seargent Hartman would have against unlocked foot-lockers.
The girl wore her uniform, nice and shabby and not a single deform in it. Though her face was listless. Uniquely listless. Her eyes were red and staring at James with a mediocre intensity. Her posture straight alike her parents, and equally as rich looking.
"This interview will be nice and simple," the man said, sitting down beside the girl. "She will be the one you'll be protecting, driving to, and driving for. You will accompany her for her every whim, for wherever she needs to go, and for whatever business that she needs you. That will be your job. And... Looking at your resume, I do presume you're quite well off in driving, though I do say... You like quite... rough. A uniform shall be prepared for you by the monsieur that shall greet you in your quarters, room ten in floor thirty."
Confused (since this didn't at all seem like any normal interview), "do you need anything from me, sir?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Haven't you got any questions for me?"
"No. Not one question, I deem you fit enough as my daughter's chaffeur." He grinned slightly, "I know you haven't any as well?"
"No sir." He lied.
"You start today, my valet has pulled up my Beetle in the front-driveway." The girl leapt out of her seat, "I presume you know my daughter's academy? Drive her there at haste, she cannot be late, by any circumstance. Understand? Ah, wait a second, you may delay your getting of your uniform, since it shall not be enough time."
"Yes... Sir."
Her father whispered some words into her daughter's ear before sending her off to James's side.
Awkwardly, the two made their way to the elevator, James flicked the button, instantly opening the door.
"Good Afternoon Ma'am, where shall it be?"
"The first floor." There was no urgency in that voice of hers, she was completely calm and steady.
"Yes, Ma'am."
The two of them entered the black man's elevator, unlike before, the man showed a lot of posh ettiquete. And, unlike before, the elevator played orchestral music from the surround sound speakers. It made it seem like they were in the middle of an orchestra, feeling every single string trum and every percussion sound resounding.
"We have arrived."
They left for the entrance.
Leaving the front door, the girl finally spoke. "Chaffeur, I think you have been informed by the black informant in that elevator," -they slowly made their way to the navy MV Beetle- "that my chaffeurs tend to... not last."
James gulped, opening the back-seat door for her,
"A-" she tilted and raised her finger, "I want to sit in the front."
"Yes, ma'am."
Circumnavigating the other side, James opened the passenger door with too much uncoordinated movement, "As my chaffeur, shouldn't you be more delicate with your actions? I understand your standing, you should atleast act more... Respectable in each movement."
James said nothing, nodding his head. As the door closed behind her, he groaned in irritation.
Opening the driver-side door, he leapt inside and sat on the cushioned seats like it were already his car. "And your attitude needs rounding off old-man."
"Right." He chortled, starting the car on. He drove off. "Excuse me and your father but... Where do you go to school at?"
She groaned comdically, "you are the most incompetent chaffeur I've had... And... Why should I tell you? If I do tell you where I study, then I go to school once more. That boring place... If I don't; then I get to enjoy some freedom."
"Sorry, ma'am, no can do!" He sped into the main highway, "don't wanna be thrown in the ocean by your father."
"My father's not some kind of mafia gang leader, he's opposite that."
"What's opposite a mafia gang leader?" He retorted.
"A... Politician I suppose?"
"That's... That's the worst answer to that question, ma'am."
"Hm."
"Now where? Wheres'ya damn school?"
"It's the Akade Highschool for Girls. Do you know it?"
"That's..." He murmured to himself. "No. I don't actually."
"You're worthless." She managed a half-smile.
"I do adapt, ma'am. I like adapting. Tell me where to go-"
He slowed down, there seemed to be a crash in the highway. He squinted his eyes to see the crash better. "Gah, dam!" He chuckled, "poor motherfuckers, three-car-crash. Hopefully they're alright." He took a second to glance at her, her eyes were serious.
Her expression was too... Weirdly furious and curious.
"Back off."
"What?"
"Go back."
"You're telling me the impossible ma'am, this is a highway, it's either slow down and pass or pass."
The windshield shattered!
"What the fuck!" James grabbed ahold of himself, ducking down.
He B-lined backwards, looking behind as he reversed into the highway.
The cars swerved him, honking angerly while he manuvered.
"We're getting shot at, duck yo face down!"
But she remained unphased, "continue retreating;" -she opened the glove compartment- "remain vigilant against the fire."
"Holy shit lady that's a fucking pistol!" He yelled, taking his eyes off the back of the car.
Hearing a horn grow stronger and stronger, he looked behind.
"Fuck!" A truck!
He turned the wheel sharp-left, reversing into the guardrail.
Bam!
They were in freefall for five good seconds, landing harshly into a off-ramp. Regaining himself from the fall, he glanced at her. She was fine, no, she was amazingly fine considering what feat he had done. "You're clumsy, though you got me out of there, I give you that."
He groaned in pain, "um... About the bumper? I think I can repair it, got a whole toolbox of em back at home."
"Sure. It's not like that's the only one of them in the garage."
"Ah..." He chuckled awkwardly.
He started back the beetle again.
"But don't get too relaxed now, we're being followed." She claimed, pointing her finger at the start of the off-ramp.
A bullet!
Whizzing by the both of their faces, missing by just a hair's width!
He swiftly accelerated, the engine overclocked-overtime.
Ducking, he looked at his side mirror, three vehicles, black and all shooting at them. This was not what he had in mind for today's agenda. The girl started shooting, peeking in from her window.
James pulled her in with his free hand. "What the hell's you doin! You gonna get yourself killed ma'am, and I ain't wanna be the one to witness the death of a child; no I ain't!"
Bullets were wizzing by them, hitting the windshield in the back, the backseats cushioning the bullets from hitting them.
"Unhand me fool! I'm the one with gun-"
Swiftly, too calculated and fast for her to see, he pried the pistol away from her hand.
"How did you..."
Turning left with the road, James drove into a narrow residential-block. "Hold on tight, ma'am!" He swerved with the flow of the crowded roadway, the beetle just small enough to fit into the narrow streets of Japan with room left to spare. Those black-jeeps chasing them were a bit fat, slowing them down a little bit.
The girl was eyeing up the pistol James was holding so hazardly, "give me that pistol."
"I'll give you the pistol after all it's round are spent! Keep yo' hands to yourself girl!"
Minding the people in the residential block he drove in, he took the time to aim backwards.
The girl reeled him into his seat, "Jeez you dumb geezer! You're a target in red! They're shooting at us too you know?" -She pried the pistol from his control- "trust me, I'm your employer."
Absorbing the madness of the situation, he finally came to terms with it. "To fucks with it!" He was now fully engrossed with the road ahead.
Swerve right!
Left, then a hard swish!
Straight now, they were heading out of the block at full speed.
The Beetle weaved the streets with ease, grazing lightly the cars it passed, and full-on avoiding the backwards traffic.
But their aggressors were not letting down.
The girl took a shot, her aim great enough to hit the front-jeep's driver. It swerved off uncontrollably into a building, exploding into great nothingness!
"God damn, girl! Keep shooting em!" James laughed, pushing forward.
"I'm out." She sat back down, "continue driving."
"There's not another gun in this thing?"
"No, the previous guy forgot to refil it." She sighed exhausted, "get me to my school."
"Right on, A-cade Highschool For Girls..."
"It's a right from the Imperial Palace, then a left."
"Thank you," now knowing where to go, he shifted his gaze to the other side of the road, turning with great speed, sliding the roadway like it were some racing ring.
The bad guys from those black jeeps were cursing all sorts of rampage at them. "Suck my dick!" James yelled at them in true hillbilly fashion.
As he raged the traffic, James turned a quick left to a narrow roadway. Looking at his rearview mirror. He saw the jeeps pass by them and continuing down the road, "we lost em. Ma'am." He sighed in exhaustion.
"Nice job, chaffeur. I might even give you the ability to call me by the name my friends call me."
"Then I'll give you mine, Jamesson."
"Aren't you James?"
"James Jamesson's my whole name."
She stared at him with astonished eyes, chortling a little, "what deranged parents you might have."
James looked at her, hiding the gun away in the glove box before turning the safety on. "Who are you, girl? Who're the guys who chased us? And what the hell am I getting myself into?"
"Too many questions Jamesson, get me to my school." She looked at her watch, it was cracked, but it didn't seem new to her. "Ah, nevermind. I am late, I don't think you're going to be hired after all."
"Well that's a bummer." He scratched his head, continuing down the narrow roadway leading loosely to the Imperial Castle. "I'll take you there still, hey tell your father I did some shit there, maybe I'll be able to stay in."
She mused in the idea, "why not? You seem to be more capable than my other chaffeurs. Call me then; Ami." She raised her hand to shake his. "Isn't this the American way to greet someone- sorry, the... Western way."
"It's a way." James shook her hand. "Hope to work with you in the future.