I still think of that day, the day I met here. I thought it was just an average day, but if I had known what was going to come from that day, I probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed.

However, I did get out of bed. My alarm went off at half past 6 like it always did, and I hit the snooze instantly, like I always did. However, usually three minutes after I hit the snooze, I got up, unable to fall back asleep.

I rose and looked around my little apartment in the heart of New York and made sure no one had decided to rob me in the right. No one had. Groaning, I headed into the bathroom to prepare for today's work.

I always stood in the mirror for at least thirty seconds before I began to get ready. I don't know why I did it, and my friends called me a girl because of it, but it didn't change my habits. I liked looking myself over, making sure nothing had happened during the night. My friends laughed at that; they told me that nothing had ever happened and nothing ever would. I didn't know how they could be so sure.

Staring back at me was my reflection, a short, small guy with brown hair that liked to stick up in the front. I saw two close set eyes, large and round. My mother used to joke that they were wide because they soaked up everything. Maybe they did, I was very observant. I also saw my crooked nose, due to the fact my brother had broken it when I was twelve, but that's a story I'm not in the mood for telling.

After my self inspection, I stepped into the shower. I could shower in three minutes flat, which for some reason I found impressing. No one else did though so I kept that fact to myself. When I got out of the shower, I dried off, and started to get dress. I wore khaki slacks and a white button up shirt everyday. I was a taxi driver after all.

“Come here Sammy, come here boy!” I called as I entered the kitchen. Sammy came trotting in, eager to see me. I bent down and he began to lick my face. He had been my best friend since I was nineteen. He had seen me through all my troubles, and I was certain he was the one thing who would never ever change.

“Do you want breakfast Sammy?” I asked. Sammy's responses was to run, and bring me his food bowl. I chuckled. “All right I guess you want your food.”

I pulled Sammy's dog food out of the pantry, blue buffalo, and I filled his bowl up three quarters of the way, the same I did everyday.

Some people I knew thought my routine was a little too sound, and that I should mix it up once in a while. They told me I was terrified of change, and maybe a bit paranoid. I didn't think I was.

After Sammy was fed, I ate my own breakfast. Two piece of toast and a bowl of Crispix. It was usually for me and I enjoyed it. I finished breakfast in about five minutes. By this time it was about seven o'clock, time for me to head to work. Today I was working the eight to four shift.

I grabbed my bag, said good bye to Sammy, and headed downstairs. As I was walking downstairs, I ran into Lydia, a girl about my age with an apartment next door. I ran into her almost every day, but this was the first day I literally ran into her.

“Oh!” she cried, as we tumbled to the floor, her books spilling everywhere.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said helping her to her feet. She dusted herself off and smiled.

“Its all right Mason. It was bound to happen sometime,” she bent down to retrieve books and I did the same. I looked at the book title in my hand, 1984 by George Orwell. I had never heard of it. I held the book out to her. “Is this any good?” I asked.

“Oh its delightful! Its about-” Lydia began.

“Oh dear,” I said glancing at my watch, “it appears I must run, I'm late.” I took off not wanting to hear Lydia's lecture about her books.

“But I thought you worked at eight!” Lydia called out to me. I didn't respond. I had a feeling Lydia had the a growing crush on me, and it was not a feeling I wanted to reciprocate. 

As I headed downstairs, I watched the numbers of the floors drop. I lived on the ninth floor, the highest of our apartment building. Unlike the other tenants of the ninth floor, I walked down the stairs every morning. It was one of the only ways I got expertise.

By the time I arrived at the bottom, I was panting a bit, and a light sweat appeared on my face. I walked into the lobby and saw Trevor, the lobby attendant.

“Hello Mason. What was your time for today?” he asked. He asked me everyday and seemed to be the only person genuinely interested in my daily flight down the stairs.

“Twenty minutes and forty seven seconds,” I said panting.

“That's a minute better than yesterday's time. Good for you,” Trevor said, smiling.

“Thanks Trevor.”

“Are you off to work?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well have a good day. If you meet any interesting chicks, send them my way.”

“I will,” I replied, tipping my hat and walking out the door. I made that promise to Trevor every single day, and had never sent him back any “chicks.” I doubted that he thought I every would, but he kept the routine the same. Trevor liked order, just liked I did.

I headed to work, walking down W 85th street. The taxi company's base was at the corner of 87^th and Broadway. It was about a mile walk and it took me about twelve minutes to walk there. I could get there in seven if I was running late.

I walked into work at 7:56, a bit early like I always like to be. I punch my card in and headed to get my car.

“Morning Mason,” a coworker of mine by the name of Allen Johson said as I passed him.

“Morning Al,” I said, with a friendly wave. Out of all my coworkers, Allen was probably my favorite. He just had a light spirit to him. He wa always smiling, which confused me. I didn't understand how it was possible for one person to always be smiling.

“Do you know where your area is today?” he asked.

“Nah, I don't have one, I thought I just drive around. There's bound to be somebody.”

“That's for sure. There's six thousand taxis roaming these streets but it still feels like the people are a dime a dozen.”

“It doesn't seem like that every day,” I remarked, thinking of the several slow days I had had recently.

“Ah, well let's hope today isn't a slow day. Want a coffee before you go out?”

“Oh no thank you, I'm not the biggest fan of coffee.”

“That's right, sorry, forget. Well see you later Mason,” Allen said, entering his own cab.

“See ya Allen,” I said, heading to find mine.

My cab was tucked in the front right corner, the place I always parked it. Everyone at the taxi company knew that that was my spot, and no one ever messed with it. I was the only one with a specific spot, which confused me. If we all had specific spots it would be easier to find our cars. I told that to our manager once and he just laughed at me and told me to get to work.

I started up the engine and smiled. I loved the sound of a engine revving early in the morning. I didn't know a lot about cars, but I was still fascinated by them. I was amazed by the number of cars that filled the streets of New York. I wondered what the streets would be like it they didn't have cars. Well, one things for sure, I wouldn't have a job.

I pulled out of the taxi company, and into the busy streets of New York. I was ready for the day. I wondered what type of people you'd pick up. You could never tell. I had one guy who I nearly positive looked at though he wanted to commit suicide, a teenager girl in a pink frilly dress her hair done up in ribbons like she was two, and a couple who tried to fit their five kids in the back; and succeeded. If there was one thing you could say about my job, it was that it sure was interesting.

I drove around when I saw a young couple calling for a taxi. I pulled to the side and they got in, grateful looks on their faces. It was almost as if they didn't know a taxi driver's job was to pick people up.

“Hello, my name's Mason, where can I take you today?” I asked the couple, turning around.

“Um yes, we need to go to the Empire State Building. Do you know where that is?” the man asked, worried. I chuckled, as if I didn't have every other tourist ask to go there.

“Yeah, I can get you there. May I ask your names?”

“Oh, I'm Sofia and this is my husband, Kurt.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you on your honeymoon?”

“Yes, we were married about a week ago,” Kurt said, placing his arms around Sofia's shoulder.

“Congratulations,” I said, turning my eyes back to the road. That was about all the conversation I had with my customers. I liked to learn names. I kept a list of all the customers I had ever had, just in case anyone ever became famous. That was yet another thing my friends laughed at me for. I don't know why I was still friends with them since they laughed at me so much.

I listened to Sofia and Kurt talk in the back. They sounded like every other newly wedded couple I had driven They acted like they were madly in love and nothing could ever destroy it. Part of me felt like their marriage was sure to end in divorce.

I drove through the streets, trying to keep an eye out for large groups of people. I needed people so I could get tips. I needed tips if I was to go out with my friends, like I enjoyed. It was one of my few pleasures in life.

We turned the corner and I heard Kurt remark, “Are we almost there?”

“A few more minutes,” I replied. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Kurt said. I could hear the yearning in his voice. I knew that it would be a smart idea not to turn around. I didn't need to turn around to know what was going to happen, and I knew that I didn't want to see it.

I might have pushed the speed limit as the light turned green. I didn't want to deal with any backseat kissing any longer than I had to. I had to admit, that was one of my least favorite part of being a taxi driver.

I pulled up to the curb, about a block from the empire state building. “I'm going to have drop you off here, its to closest I can get. Is that a problem?”

“Oh not at all,” Sofia said quickly.

“Here's your payment,” Kurt said handing me a twenty.

“The price is only 14.37, “ I pointed it out,

“Keep the change,” Kurt said, getting out of the taxi and holding the door open for Sofia. Sofia smiled at me and said, “Thank you.” and stepped out. She took Kurt's arm and started walking towards the Empire State building.

I sighed as they stepped out of the cab. I was glad to see them going. I didn't have anything against them, I barely knew them, I just didn't like the memories they brought. Couples like them were the hardest part of my job.

After they left, I began to drive around for a while. With over 6,000 cabs roaming the streets, it is sometimes hard to find people. I drove up and down Broadway. It seemed that Allen's wishing for it not to be a slow day were not coming true. I understood why. It was a Monday, the slowest day of the week. People seemed sluggish on Monday, and no one really liked to call for a taxi.

It also didn't help that it was still only April. We had the most business in the summer months when the travelers are here. April was particularly bad. It was warm enough that people would walk, and it wasn't summer, so no tourists. I sighed, if I didn't get anyone soon, this could be a long day.

I was driving down Broadway when I saw a young woman calling for a taxi. She wore a short black pencil skirt with a blue sweater. She would wave for a taxi, then wrap her arms around herself, trying to fight the wind that had rose. Next to her side were three large suitcases. I was confused, I had never seen one tourist with so many suitcase, and definitely not of that size. Maybe she got separated from her family, I wondered. She seemed young enough that she could still travel with her family.

I started to drive away, speeding past her, but something pulled me back. I turned the car around, wondering if she was still there. I drove up to see that she was. Sighing, I pulled in front of her. She seemed very relieved to have found a taxi and for the first time I realized that she had had a worried expression on her face.

She smiled at me, and popped open the trunk. She then proceeded to life her suitcase into the trunk, one by one. At first she seemed to struggle, and I almost got out and helped her, but something held me back. This wasn't part of my routine, and I like routine.

The girl entered the taxi and I noticed that her hair- which I had previously thought to have been white- was really more of a light blonde. She had tan skin and hazel eyes that were a bit born green than brown. My heart began to beat a bit faster. Stop that,I scolded it. I had no desire to repeat what happened to me last time my heart got a bit too crazy.

The girl straightened her skirt and fixed her hair. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she pulled it up into a bun. She put the bun together faster than any girl I had ever seen. For a moment, I stared in awe. Then the girl looked up at me and coughed. I quickly realized what was happening, and shook my head to clear it.

"Hello, my name is Mason. Where can I take you today?" I said, asking my normal question.

The girl seemed caught off guard, as if she expected me to all ready know. "Oh, um, yes. I need to take a taxi to L.A."

“L.A,” I said. “Is that like the name of an apartment complex or hotel? I know there's a hotel called London Avenue, but I didn't know people called it L.A. Is that where you wanted to go?”

“Um well..” the girl said, looking once more at the floor. A blush had rose up on her cheeks, and her hand was furiously tapping on her leg. She seemed extremely worried and on edge, as if she expected someone to jump out of the seats and stabbed her. “No, that's not what I meant.”

“Oh did you mean the Lavender Apartments? I can get you there if you like.”

“Oh no, you see, when I said L.A, I meant L.A, you know, like, Los Angeles.”

“Excuse me?” I cried, whirling around. Did she just say, Los Angeles? “Did you not know that Los Angeles is over 2,000 miles away from New York? Did you really think I could take you there? Why not take a plane for heaven's sakes!”

The girl looked at the floor, her cheeks flushing pink. “I know this is extremely inconvient,” she said, not raising her head from the floor, “but I can make this work. I will pay whatever the cost is, any money you have to spend because of me: the fare, the gas prices, the hotels, food, whatever. Just please, I need to get to L.A.”

“Take a plane, its faster.”

“I cannot.”

“Why? Why can someone with enough money to pay all that not take a plane?”'

The girl looked up at me and when we made eye contact, instantly looked back at the floor. “I just cannot take a plane at this time. You are my only hope.”

“Oh great, now you're quoting Star Wars. Who are you for heaven's sake anyways?”

“My name is Brooklyn Malone.”

“Well I'm Mason Holmes,” I said turning around, extending my hand. The girl, Brooklyn, I guess her name was, shook it. “Nice to meet you. Now get out of my cab!”

Brooklyn didn't move. Instead, she simply belted her seat belt. She looked at me and smiled.

“How about I just drive you to the airport? Will that work? I can get you to the airport.”

“I'm afarid not Mr. Holmes.”

“Call me Mason,” I said, placing my head into my palms. How could this be happening? I'd liked routine, I'd like ordinary things, and this was certaintly anything but ordinary. This girl, Brooklyn Malone, wanted me to take her to L.A of all places! Now I've driven to some pretty crazy places but none as crazy as this. I banged my head against the steering wheel, causing the horn to go off. I saw Brooklyn jump, but I didn't even flinch.

“Please Mr... Mason, I need your help.”

“Why?” I cried spinning around. “Why in the world do you need to go to L.A? And why in the world do you need me to take you there in a beat up, old taxi cab?”

I saw tears forming in Brooklyn's eyes and I couldn't tell why they were coming. All I knew is they needed to stop. I couldn't deal with crying, how was I supposed to? I wasn't a girl, and I certaintly didn't know why girls just randomly started crying.

“Please, stop crying, I didn't meant to be harsh, I'm just a little shocked, that's all,” I said, trying to sound gentle.

“Its just that, I need to get to L.A. I cannot take a plane for reasons I cannot share, and I couldn't think of any other mood of transportation. Then I saw your taxi pull up. It was number 108, my lucky number, the number I use as my code for everything, and I couldn't help but think, hey Brooklyn maybe you finally got hit with the luckbolt. But I guess not.”

I sighed. “How old are you Brooklyn?”

“I turned twenty one in January.”

I groaned. She was only two years younger than me. Probably at that age still in college. I wondered what was her reason for going to L.A. And why is the world did she have to get there in a taxi? Where had that idea even come from?

“Look Brooklyn, I want to help you, I do, you have to believe that. But what your asking me to do is crazy. I cannot just leave my life, my home, my job, to drive a girl I've never met before in my life to L.A. For one thing, even if I wanted to, I couldn't, for I would only return to New York to get fired by my superviser, and maybe arrested for stealing a taxi. Do you understand?”

There was a moment of silence and then Brooklyn looked up at me, her eyes wide and full of hope. “Take me to your superviser.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Take me to your superviser. What have you got to lose? If he says no, I will leave you in peace, as if we had never met. However, if he says yes, I would ask you to reconsider. Just because he says yes doesn't mean you have to, but its just another opinion.”

I turned around and stared out the window. I was trapped. What was I to do? She was right, I did have nothing to lose. “Fine,” I sighed.

“Thank you Mason.”

“You're welcome Brooklyn. Now let's go see Mr. Webb.”

My head was screaming at me the whole time as I drove down 46^th street to get to Mr. Webb's office. Why was I even doing this? Brooklyn wanted me to take her to L.A, which would require at least three days, maybe more, of driving. Then driving back as well. That would mean putting my life on hold for a good week, maybe more. Could I really do that? Could I really put my life on hold for a week? Part of me hoped that Mr. Webb would say no so I no longer had to make a decision.

I drove through the crowded New York streets, glancing back at Brooklyn every few minutes. She sat quietly, her hands in her lap. She stared out the window with a fasination in her eyes. I wondered if she had ever been in New York before. I wonder what her story was. Though I tried to guard against it, some part of my heart yearned to know what was behind this mysterious girl.

Luckily, Mr. Webbs office was not far from where Brooklyn was. We arrived soon, and I pulled into the parking garage.

“Do you need me to pay for parking?” Brooklyn asked. It was the first time she had spoken since we had left.

“No, I have a badge. I can get in without paying,” I said, fishing my badge out of my bag. I held it up to the scanner. The gate beeped and then opened.

“His office is on the seventh floor, you're not scared of heights are you?”

“Not at all. What's your superviser like?”

“Oh Mr. Webb, he has two sides to him. Its kind of hard to guess which one will see. He'll either be extremely nice and talkative, or he'll be moody and everything will tick him off. Hopefully we'll see the first one.”

I drove around a couple times before I found a place to park. It was bit away from Mr. Webb's office, but I didn't mind. From the looks of Brooklyn's face, she didn't mind to much. She exited the taxi without saying a word. I watched as she stared in her mirror. She adjusted her hair and fixed her skirt, then flashed me a smile. “Let's go,” she said, smiling.

I nodded and followed her to the door. Using my badge, I got us into the offices. I knew that Mr. Webb would be very surprised to see me. I was usually a very good and avid workers, Mr Webb has called me one of his favorites before.

I showed Brooklyn the way down to Mr. Webb's office. She followed me like a little puppy, trailing right on my heels. Soon I found Mr. Webb's office. The name Hector Webb was written in large golden letters are the front.

I knocked, and waited a moment for the answer. “Who is it?”

“Mason Holmes.”

The door openly instantly. I saw my superviser, Mr. Webb, staring back at me. Mr. Webb was in his late fifty and was practically blad. He had a few wisps of brown hair sticking up at the top. His face was covered in wrinkles, but he didn't look old. Something about his eyes and the way they were still full of energy made them look older.

“Mason Holmes, what are you doing here when you are supposed to be working?” Mr. Webb asked, tapping his foot.

“Mr. Webb I can explain...” I began.

“Mr. Webb, may I speak to you for a moment? I can explain everything,” Brooklyn insisted.

Mr. Webb looked surprise. Never once had I mentioned a girl. “All right, Miss...”

“Malone.”

“Come in Miss Malone,” Mr. Webb said, leading her into his office.

I stood outside Mr. Webb's office pacing. I was panicking. What could Mr. Webb be saying to her? What could she be saying to Mr. Webb? Would he listen to her? Would he tell her she was crazy or would he tell her he was all right with it? My mind couldn't deicde. It had too many possibeliltes running through it.

I started walked up and down the hallway, with each step a new question forming in my mind. I couldn't bear waiting, I've always been extremely impatient. That's part of the reason I was a taxi driver; it didn't require much waiting.

I paced back and forth, praying that soon Mr. Webb's door would open and I could go back to my regular life, and forget this insidence ever accord. I could go home and tell Trevor my story and watched his face twist up in a laugh. That's all this was, a laugh, a joke, something to be forgotten.

Suddenly, I heard the creak of the door. I sprinted back to the other end of the hallway just in time to see Brooklyn and Mr. Webb leaving his office. I stood, trying to make it look like I had been waiting patiently, outside the door.

“Well Mason, I guess it is now your turn to come in,” Mr. Webb said jestering me into his office.

Brooklyn and I swapped place, leaving her to rip her hair out waiting, and me to talk to Mr. Webb. I entered the office and sat in the familiar plush chair. The chair squeaked as I sat down, but I didn't even flinch. This chair always squeaked.

I looked around Mr. Webb's office. Though I had been in it numerous times before I see liked to look around, see what was different. The chair I was sitting in faced a large desk, behind which was another chair of similar type. On the desk were five picture frames: one of his wife, one of his daughter and her husband, one of his son and his wife, the last two were pictures of his seven grandchildren.

On the wall hung artwork from his children and grandchildren. They were done in childish style but still managed to enchant me. They hung on the cream walls, which were otherwise bare.

Mr. Webb entered and closed the old door behind him with a sqeal. Now that sound made me cringe. It reminded me of nails on the chalkboard, a sound I absolutly deserted.

Mr. Webb, seeing that I had sat down, sat down in his own seat, resulting in another squeak. Mr. Webb chuckled. “It seems my office is falling about, eh Mason?”

“Just a bit sir.”

Mr. Webb chuckled and shook his head. “When we are alone, Mason, feel free to call me Hector. I don't mind.”

“But I do Mr. Webb.”

“All right then. So I imagine you wish to know what Miss Malone has told me.”

“Yes.”

“Well basically her need to get to L.A, and her inabilty to use an airplane, though I did not know why. I do know, however, that she wants you to take her there in a taxi. She said she will pay whatever price is required, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well son, this is all I have to say. If I had been a younger person and this had been offered to me, I would have taken it with hesitation. If nothing else, the money, but also driving a beautiful young lady would have greatly appealed to me.”

“So are you saying I should do it?”

“Yes, you should do it. I'll give you a two week leave from your job, and everything will be worked out for you. If you do choose to drive her.”

I rose to my feet. “But what if I just don't know. What if I don't know if I should drive her?”

“That is a decision only you can make. I have given you my opinion, but I cannot make the decision for you. In the end, only you can do that. I'll tell Miss Malone you are making your choice. I shall leave you in peace,” Mr. Webb said, standing and leaving.

I watched him leave and began to pace. Could I really drive her to L.A? The amount of money she offered what ridculous. I couldn't imagine how else I would get that money. I thought of Cody, my best friend since seventh grade. He would tell me I needed to take this chance.

But could I do it so soon after Ariana? Could I really drive a girl, who happened to look like her, across the country? I sighed pacing. I need to make a choice, and I needed to make it now.

I sighed and shoved open the door. Brooklyn was standing, waiting much more patiently than I had been. That confused me, she had so much more at stake.

“Yes?” she asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“Let's go,” I said. She followed, not saying a word. I knew she was waiting for an answer, but I needed to stall a little bit.

I walked behind her, staring at her. Man, even the way she walked reminded me of Ariana. Could I do this? Then a thought hit me. This could be the perfect way to get over Ariana.

I entered the front seat of the cab, as Brooklyn got in the back. I buckled my seat belt and turned on the car, then I turned around.

“Yes?” Brooklyn asked, all her eagerness spilling out with that one word.

I sighed. “Ready to go to L.A?” 

Brooklyn's face was shocked at my response. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. I cannot be if you want.”

“Oh no, please be serious,” Brooklyn said quickly. She looked at me as though she wanted to hug me. “Oh Mason, thank you.”'

“You're welcome. Now, if you don't mind, can we stop at my place first? There are some things I need to get.”

“Oh that's fine.”

“We probably should get some food before we go. We are going to be on the road for a while.”

“That's a good idea. Is you place far from here?”

“Not really,” I said, backing out of the parking garage. I couldn't believe I was doing this. Was I really going to take Brooklyn to L.A? The answer was yes, yes I was.

I drove along the streets when a thought came to me. What was I to do with Sammy? I couldn't leave him in the apartment all week. He'd go crazy. I couldn't leave him in a kennel either, how could I do that to him? That left only one opition.

At the next light, I dug my phone out of my bag. It was an old iPhone that I had bought years ago. It may have not been the newest style but it still worked and that was all that mattered. I entered my passcode and threw the phone back to Brooklyn. She caught it, surprised.

“Call Cody for me. Then hand me back the phone.”

Brooklyn nodded and I could hear her scrolling through my contacts. Please Cody. I thought. I needed him to do this for me, or else trouble would follow.

Brooklyn handed me the phone right as Cody answered it. “Hey Mason, what's up?” Cody asked.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“What do you need bro?”

“I need you to watch Sammy for about a week.”

“Why do I need to do that?”

“I'll explain why later. Can you just watch Sammy?” I asked, pleadingly.

Cody sighed. “Will you pay me?”

I looked back at Brooklyn. She agreed to cover every expense. “Yes, and a good amount to.”

“I'll do it man, but you owe me one. Okay?”

“Gotcha. I'll be over with Sammy in thirty minutes okay?”

“See ya man.”

“See ya,” I said hanging up. Thank heavens for friends like Cody James.

“Who in the world is Sammy?” Brooklyn asked, a confused expression on her face.

“My dog,” I replied, without turning around.

I kept my eyes on the road as we neared my apartment, The Opal House. No one knew why it was named that. The tentants had nicknamed it the Open House for a reason that again no one knew. It was just part of our daily lives.

We got to my apartment and I parked the cab. Everyone in the building knew I worked as a taxi driver so none of them should think it was very odd that there was a cab parked in the parking lot. I got out of the car and motioned for Brooklyn to follow. She did so quietly. When we got out of the car, she followed me inside.

“Mason? What are you doing back?” Trevor asked and then he saw Brooklyn. “Oh, hello ma'am, what can I do to help you?”

“Oh I'm with him.”

“Mason, what is this?”

“A long story Trevor. I'll text you if you really want to know. I'll you need to know if that I won't be here over the next week all right?”

“Whatever you say Mason,” Trevor said, heading back to his job.

“Follow me, I live on the ninth floor,” I said, starting towards the stairs.

“Do we have to take the stairs,” Brooklyn asked, pleading.

I sighed. “Fine.” and we headed to the elevator. I waited, tapping my foot and groaning. I didn't like the elevator. They were small, croweded, and smelled like sweat. Nevertheless, I waited with Brooklyn for the elevator.

We got on and thankfully, there was no one else there. We started up Brooklyn staring at one wall, I at the other. We rode in silence until we reach the fourth floor when the elevator stopped. An elderly lady got on. The door shut behind her and we started up.

“Oh dear, its seemed I've walked into the middle of a spat have I?”the woman said glancing between Brooklyn and I.

“Oh, there's been no spat,” Brooklyn said quickly.

“Then why aren't you talking to each other?”

“Why would we be talking to each other?”

“Aren't together?” she asked, confused.

“No,” I replied.

“Oh, are we in the denial stage then,” the woman remarked. Luckily we had arrived at her floor and she stepped off, flashing Brooklyn and I a smile.

“That was interesting,” I commented, turning to face Brooklyn. She nodded. Soon we arrived at our floor.

“Follow me, I'll show you to my apartment,” I said, leading Brooklyn down the hall. As we turned the corner, Brooklyn ran into Lydia.

“Oh,” the two of them cried, as they tumbled down. I turned back, I didn't know who to help first. I turned to Brooklyn, extended my hand and tried to help her. By the time I turned to help Lydia, she was on her feet, a scowl on her face.

“Hello,” she growled to Brooklyn. Then she turned to me and planted a smile on her face. “Hello Mason, what are you doing back from work early?”

Inside, I groaned. Why did I have to run into Lydia? Her reaction had confromed to me my fears, Lydia had a crush on me, a crush that was not return. I could tell from Lydia's face that she was jealous. I needed to settle this instantly or else I could be starting a chick fight.

“My cousin is coming to stay with me, so my boss let me take off early. Brooklyn meet Lydia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lydia said, extending her hand to Brooklyn, the hostleness taken from her voice now that she knew that Brooklyn wasn't compitition.

“It is nice to meet you to,” Brooklyn said, shaking Lydia's hand.

“Well, come on Brooklyn, let's go,” I said, leading Brooklyn away from Lydia. Brooklyn did not say anything about Lydia. For that, I was grateful, I had no desire to explain.

We entered my apartment and Brooklyn sat on my couch, without saying a word. I was grateful. She seemed to understand that now was not the time to talk.

I heard a loud barking and Sammy ran into the kitchen, and jumped on me. He was excited to see me since he normally did not get to see me until later. “Hey boy, how are you?” I asked. Sammy barked in response. Then he noticed Brooklyn. He ran over to her and jumped into her lap.

“You don't mind dogs do you?” I asked.

“Oh not at all! I love dogs,” she said, scrathing Sammy's head.

I smiled and left Sammy with Brooklyn and headed into my room. What would I need to pack? Clothes, obviously, were needed. I headed over to my dresser and pulled out eight shirts, four pairs of pants, and a handful of underwear and pajamas. I looked around my room and tried to decide what else I would need.

I headed into my bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush and tooth paste. I grabbed a comb and a hanful of other stuff and shoved it into a bag. I shoved my little bags into a large bag. That should be all I needed. I headed into my room to make sure. Then, at the last second, I grabbed my camera and shoved that into my bag as well. I pulled my jacket from my closet and headed to meet Brooklyn.

Then something stopped me. I remembered something that was under my bed that hadn't been touched in months. Should I really bring it? I wondered. Making a spilt second decision, I headed back to my room and dug my violin case out from under my bed. I grabbed my folder from my dresser and headed out to meet Brooklyn.

“I'm ready to go. Are you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Brooklyn said, rising to her feet. Sammy nipping at her heels.

“Come on Sammy, we're going on a trip,” I said. I grabbed two bags of dog food from the pantry. “Are you coming Brooklyn?”

“Yeah, let's go,” Brooklyn said.

I grabbed Sammy's leash and attached it to his collar. Brooklyn and I headed out, and down to the cab. “Can Sammy sit in the back with you?” I asked Brooklyn.

“Oh sure,” Brooklyn said, opening the door for Sammy. Sammy lept in, he was almost never allowed in my cab and was excited for the chance.

“We have to make a quick stop. I am going to drop Sammy off at my friend Cody's house. He promises to watch him for me. You don't mind paying his fare, right?” I asked, hoping that the dog watching price fell under the I'll pay for everything catogorey.

“Oh yes, but can't Sammy just stay with us?”

“No, I can't keep Sammy in the car for ten hours a day. He'd go nuts. Plus, most hotels don't allow dogs.”

“Oh, all right,” Brooklyn said, stroaking Sammy's ears.

I started up the car and headed for Cody's apartment. It was just down the road. I enjoyed having my best friend live so close. It had been that way since we were twelve years old, eleven years ago. I knew Cody better than I knew myself. There was a period of time where I had had a crush on his older sister, Madalyn, and he had a crush on my sister, Vickie. Vickie and Madalyn were the same age and as close of friends as Cody and I were. Now both Vickie and Madalyn were married, Vickie with a child and Madalyn with one on the way. It was funny how life turned out.

I looked at Brooklyn staring out the window. For some reason, I wanted to know about this girl. For crying out loud I was supposed to drive her across the country! I wanted to make sure I wasn't driving some terrioist for heaven's sake! Plus, she was shroded in mystery. She was already a good looking girl, but some how, that mystery drew me in more, made me want to know more.

"So, where are you from?" I asked causally, hoping to inspire her to talk.

"Brooklyn," she replied without hesitating. She turned her head back to the window. Normally, if a customer doesn't want to talk, I won't talk to them. But this girl was differnt. I never was one to say a lot about a girl from her physical apperance, but something about this girl caught my mind. I kept talking.

"Brooklyn, that's your name. Did you get your name from the city?"

She turned her head, and stared at me. I could tell she was wondering if she should answer. I hoped she did.

"I did, if you must know." She started to turn her head back, then stopped. "Is there anything else you are dying to ask?"

"Do you have any siblings? I have three: Vickie's twenty six, Kayla's ninteen and Craig is twenty one. Vickie lives with her husband, Aaron, and two year old daughter, Elayne, in Albany. Craig's a junior at Harvard -always a smart alec that one- and Kayla's a freshman out at UCLA.”

I laughed thinking of my siblings. We had always been best of friends. I loved my siblings despreatly. I had heard stories of siblings who used to fight all the time, but I never understood it. My life would have been so different if they had been around. Vickie and I were especially close. When she started dating, she would introduce me to her boyfriends before my parents. They had to pass my inspection first.

"Oh, I have four siblings myself. My older sister, Geneva, is twenty four, my brother, Berlin, is eighteen, Valencia is sixteen, and Essex is twelve."

"Intresting names."

"Can you tell where they came from?"

"No."

"Geneva was born in Geneva, Switzerland. Berlin was born in Berlin, Germany. Valenica is from Vanlencia, Italy. Essex is from Essex, England. Essex was almost born in London, now that would have been intresting."

"You're all named after the city you were born in? And none of your siblings were born in the US?"

"Nope. I'm the only true blooded American. I have to be with a name like Brooklyn. You never see that out of the states."

"Your parents must be rich if none of your siblings were born in the same country," I remarked. She turned and stared at the ground. I could tell I hit a sore spot. Stupid me! I returned my eyes to my driving.

“Were you and your siblings close?” I asked. Brooklyn didn't respond. I decided to stop talking for now. “We are at Cody's house.”

“I have an idea. Why don't I run down to the grocey store and get food well you talk to Cody. I'll meet you back here in twenty minutes. All right?”

I sighed. “I guess so. You'll have to help me explain to Cody when you get back though.”

“I will. I shall see you later Mason.” Brooklyn said, climbing out of the cab, and heading down the streets. Sammy started to follow after her, but I stopped him. “You need to come with me Sammy, we're going to visiti Uncle Cody,” I said.

I led Sammy up to the door. The frontman glared at me, but I kept Sammy quiet. We headed upstairs to Cody's apartment. I knocked on the door. “Who's there?” Cody called.

“Open up Cody,” I called, and Sammy barked.

“Mason!” Cody cried, flinging open the door.

Cody embraced me in a quick hug, and then coruched down to the barking Sammy. “Hey, Sammy, how are you boy?” he asked. Sammy barked, and licked Cody's face.

“So why do you need me to watch him again?” Cody asked, gathering Sammy up in his arms.

“Its a long story, so I'm going to give you the short verison and have Brooklyn explain more when she comes.”

“Brooklyn, who's Brooklyn?”

“I'll explain,” I said entering Cody's apartment. His apartment was a bit nicer than mine, as his job paid a bit more. I headed to the couch and ploppe down to tell my story of my crazy day. I explained in as little detail as I can about Brooklyn and what she had asked me to do.

“So you are really going to drive a girl to L.A? Really? That's so not routine and I know how you like routine.”

“Yeah I know,” I said. Frankly, I wasn't sure why I was driving Brooklyn. Something about her was just so mysterious and I really wanted to know more. I wanted to know who this girl was and why in the world she needed me to drive her to L.A.

“Are you sure you can do this? So soon after Ariana?” Cody asked. I knew he hadn't meant to hurt me, but I hated when people said her name. It was one thing for me to think it, but it was a completely different thing to hear someone else say her name. It made me cringed.

“I'm hoping to use this experience as a chance to get over her,” I said, purposly refraining from saying hre name.

“Well, I wish you luck,” Cody said, and I knew he meant it. I had several friends, buddies of Cody and I, who I hung out with on a regular basis. However, Cody was the only one who I completely 100% trusted. I glanced over and Cody and stifled a chuckle.

“What's so funny?” Cody asked.

“Well, I was glancing at your hair...”

“What's wrong with my hair?” Cody butt in. He ran his finger threw his blonde hair. Cody prided himself on his blonde hair. Well some guys obssseded over cars or girls, Cody obseesed over his hair.

“I was just remembering the time you tried to die it in ninth grade. You meant for it to be brown...”

“But it came out black, yeah, yeah, don't remind me. What about the time blue contacts...”

“And they got stuck in my eyes for a week, I remember that too,” I said quickly, laughing.

“We've had some good times, haven't we?” Cody asked.

“Do you ever miss Harbor Hills? Ever miss good old Ohio?” I asked Cody. We had left Ohio went we were eighteen and came up here to go to school. I went to Julliard and he went to NYU.

“Sometimes. Harbor Hills was so small though. I like the business of New York. I'm still a Buckeye at heart though.”

There was a loud knock on Cody's door, cutting of our conversation. I glanced at my watch, had it really been a half an hour already?”

“I got it, its probably Brooklyn,” I said, jumping to my feet. I headed over to the door, wishing Brooklyn wasn't here. I wanted more time to talk to Cody since, after all, I would be leaving for a week.

I opened the door and Brooklyn was standing there. I gave her a puzzled expression as there was a lack of food in her arms “I put it in the cab, you left the door unlocked,” she said, entering the apartment.

“Cody! Brooklyn's here!” I called. Cody came in, a smile on his face. His smile grew when he saw Brooklyn. I didn't know what he was thinking, and I didn't want to. I knew that face though, that was the I'm planning something face.

“So you must be Brooklyn. I'm Cody Jackson, nice to meet you,” Cody said, extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you to.” she turned to me. “Am I supposed to pay him for dog sitting?”

I smiled. “You said you'd cover all the expense.”

She sighed. “Follow me Cody, let's go dicuss how much I owe you,” Brooklyn said, taking Cody by the arm, and leading him away. I laughed. Cody would probably text me later telling me how he was in love with Brooklyn and then the next day not remember who she was. That's how Cody was with girls. He hadn't had a serious girlfriend in year.

Wait, I corrected myself, Kirsten. Cody had started dating Kirsten about a year ago. How what I could tell things were serious. Cody said if they could last six more months he would think about get married. Part of me wondered if he really meant it. I just couldn't see Cody settling down and getting married.

“I'll write you a check and have Mason give it to you later, all right Cody?” Brooklyn asked, coming back into the room.

“That will work fine. I'll see you later Mason,” Cody said, leading us to the door.

“Sammy, come here boy!” I called. Sammy came to me and gave me a slobberly kiss. “Be a good boy well I'm gone. Don't cause Uncle Cody to much trouble.”

Cody laughed, and took Sammy away from the door. Brooklyn and I started towards the car. “Uncle Cody, really?” she said, as we headed towards the cab.

“He helped me pick him out. He deserves the title.”

“How long have you and Cody been friends?”

“Since seventh grade.”

“That's...” Brooklyn said, coutning on her fingers, “eleven years.”

“Yep.” We entered the cab. We buckled up and I started the car. I turned around, looked Brooklyn in the eyes and said, “Ready for L.A Miss Malone?”