do i love all of my passengers?
yes
even the ones i shouldnt be picking up because it's past dark which is my curfew, but i needed a few more trips to reach my goal. these days you don’t make much unless there’s a bonus attached.
and i really don’t want to go back to selling pictures of my pretty feet.
her name was hannah. she wore what i thought was a groovy ‘70s jumper and as her two asian besties slid into the back i asked her about it.
hannah, you see, chose to sit next to me.
oh this old thang she said, parting the top to reveal a green bustier. it’s a set.
hello!
picked them up at the 4100 in silver lake and asked what they had been indulging in my favorite bar.
margaritas, hold the mix, one of them joked in the back, slurring her words adorably.
just shots, hannah said as i busted an impressive u turn on sunset towards virgi where we would eventually get onto the 101.
one thing led to another and i asked where they were headed
karaoke, hannah said pulling down the passenger side sunshade to get to my lighted mirror where she reapplied a generous swath of lip gloss.
(my kryptonite)
she caught me at the red light looking at her touch up and something happened.
rarely do i ever have anyone in the front seat, and i make it uncomfortable to even consider: i usually have a jacket, some garbage, maybe a half burrito on it. the seat is generally pushed all the way forward to give the passenger in the back the max leg room.
love the benz but it doesnt have the best leg room back there.
so when she looked at me it was oddly intense. she was reading my soul. smiling.
do i still have it? impossible. i had to look away.
karaoke, you say, i asked. do you have a song you want to make sure you get to sing tonight?
every rose has a thorn, hannah, who was also wearing green eyeshadow, said.
omg i love that song i told her, holding back from humblebragging i was once in Studio A of Capitol Records when Poison played their entire new record of covers called Poison’d for the press of which i was at the time. and for the encore they played every rose and it sounded the best ive ever heard a band ever sound.
but then id have to explain why, if i was so fancy, i was grinding rides on uber on a perfect friday night where beauties in matching sets tunnel into your depths with their gaze.
so i bit my tongue. a rarity.
by miley cyrus, she added.
i’ve heard more than my fair share of miley, i said to the windshield, and i love how she can just sing anything she damn well pleases, including covers, and own it. but i dont think ive heard her do that one.
it's incredible, hannah said and sang the chorus like an angel.
as we got onto the somewhat congested hollywood freeway, i said, you have raised my curiosity. would you mind if i played her version while we drive?
would we mind? hannah sung. this is the perfect warm up!
siri play miley cyrus every rose has its thorn
from the back seat two stylish young women who knew every arpeggio and off the cuff remarks from miley.
neither held back back there so i slid open the moon roof so LA could hear.
when we got to the boutique record shop which had been rejiggered into an impromptu after hours party, hannah put her warm hand on my forearm and said
you, sir, drive very safely tonight.
i put my hand on hers and said
as you wish
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