It was quiet in The Charm City. Perhaps, too quiet. She navigated her 1940 Plymouth Road King down the lonely streets. She was a taxi driver. Yellow Cab was the company she worked for. Steele was her name, Abbey Steele. It wasn’t too common for a dame to drive a taxi, but yet, Abbey wasn’t your common girl. She drove a hack, but was a P.I. in her spare time, as if there was such a thing as . . . spare time.
The Road King was her car of choice. Bright yellow and as slick as warm butter. Four doors and a sleek, sloping body, with a front end full of cool. Suicide doors greeted her passengers. She hated that term. She’d seen too much of that. She preferred the term, “welcome doors.”
One of the mean streets of Charm City.
Abbey was a gentle soul, but had the guts and determination of a lion. Sure, she had her problems. We all do. She tried to not let it get her sideways. She’d seen too much of that, too. She didn’t want to end up living on the mean streets of Baltimore. So she held it together . . . day by day.
Driving a taxi as a dame had its disadvantages. Abbey was pretty, and friendly with her dark, brunette locks and blue eyes. But, she preferred the company of women. She wanted to be loved, but that was damn near impossible it seemed. She bristled with embarrassment when a bald, bearded man with his shirt too far open told her she was beautiful. She just wanted him out of her car. She wanted to kick him right out of the — “welcome door.”
When she picked up women for rides from the train station, she was relieved. Her boss told her it looked bad always picking up dames, so she had to keep up appearances. Some of these guys seemed familiar though. She swore they were involved in nefarious doings. The stench of crime was all over them. She had a nose for crime.
She loved her cab. It made her feel safe. She had a lot of time to think while she was driving. She thought about her life, and where she was headed. The thing was, Abbey knew she was different. Deep down inside, she was not “normal.” There was something that Abbey had to keep a secret. Society did not understand. Maybe they never would.
She longed to be a detective. Cab driving was good and all, but people, including her parents, worried about her safety. She’d been trying to be a detective for a long time. But it was a boy’s game. There’s no room for a ditzy dame when it becomes to police work. She gripped the large steering wheel of the Road King and gritted her teeth just thinking about it.
She would show them. She WAS a gumshoe, a private investigator who was good at her job. She knew the truth. She had experience, dammit! It’s just . . . now things are different. It happened 7 years ago . . . and it blew up her life.
The Road King rattled slightly as the rough, wet roads of The Charm City passed underneath, another night of picking up strangers, another night of thinking about her future.
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Tags: featured, fiction, Transgender
Category: Fiction, Transgender Body & Soul
