It had barely been a few minutes but Tyrone was exhausted. Resting his left hand on the window sill, he steered with his right so he could massage his brows as he felt his thoughts suffocating from the men's discussion.
"What's wrong? Are you stressed?" the girl in the passenger seat asked as she noticed his actions. In truth, she had been watching him, Tyrone knew that but he was comfortable with it. Ultimately, he felt fortunate that she was here. In the chaos, she was his peace.
Part of him found the irony in his thinking process. Her presence did more for him than she would ever know yet he didn't care about her and regretted putting a face to her person. She was a representation of peace and maybe he feared that getting to know her would destroy that. So he selfishly chose to see what he needed, peace in her presence.
****
Time passed, and as in life, so also in taxi-ing, nothing lasts forever.
The girl stopped at her destination, as did the men and now he was driving towards a dangerous spot. He wouldn't go there, but he needed the money, and somewhere he knew something bad would happen, but what else could he do? If he gave into the fear and avoided th dangerous market area, he would be an incapable coward, and if he went anyway, he was likely to get into trouble. And trouble indeed found him as the passenger door opened and a man got in.
Broad-shouldered and dark-skinned from standing under the sun too long, he looked every bit intimidating. His baseball hat and exaggerated dark-tinted glasses did nothing to help his visage. But despite his comical look, Tyrone's expression was grave as the man peacefully pointed at an empty spot for him to park.
Months of experience had taught him that showing fear or casualness would result in losing all his money so he maintained a stoic expression. He knew his disadvantage, he was young and thus a bully target, someone with a lot of money for these street boys to take away. But this was also an advantage, they would dare to hit him, he knew that, but they couldn't go too far because women had a soft spot for hardworking young boys.
Parking the car, he made sure to turn off the engine and take away the key before turning to the man beside him. As the man grinned, in a fluid motion, he reinserted the key and locked the steering neck of the vehicle before opening the car door and getting out. His reasons were simple, if he didn't lock the steering wheel, they would hotwire his car. And if he stayed within the vehicle, he would have no help.
Still playing it cool, he walked around the car to the passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the thug with a furrowed brow. He knew why he was in trouble, taxis were not allowed in this area of the open market. It wasn't a law but a rule and these thugs or street boys were the enforcers of said rule.
"Very calm, good boy. I like you." The thug grinned at him, and Tyrone shrugged. He was a glass-half-empty kind of person, and right now, all he could think about were worst-case scenarios. He could either be taken to the Police Station where his car would be impounded or get beaten here in the market, both very possible scenarios regardless of how jovial this thug seemed.
"I just got on the road barely a few hours ago; I haven't made much," he started by laying his card. They wanted money, he had no choice but to give them.
Did this count as a bribe?
Those who had never gotten into the lowest levels of society would claim it did, but there was no order in Tyrone's reality. Even if he did get taken to the Police Station, he would have to pay that bribe; if he refused, then he would have to pay the bribe to a lawyer or a judge; it didn't matter. One way or another, he would pay a bribe; all that mattered was how much and to who.
There was no justice and certainly no order, the law was for those who mattered enough for it to apply to them. Tyrone was ultimately inconsequential, a fact he reminded himself daily or was reminded of.
"Anything, anything. Show me" the thug replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Quickly emptying his pockets, Tyrone began to count out ten-dollar bills.
Suddenly the thug pushed the door open and was now towering over him.
"Give me your keys" he demanded, his tone cold as he stared down at the weak boy.
"Give me your keys," he asked again, this time his voice raised. Shifting on his feet, the thug's eyes glanced around for his colleagues.
Tyrone was not giving up his keys, that would give the thug more power. He knew the truth; this thug didn't care about impounding his car or taking him to the Station; he wanted money. If he was able to get Tyrone's keys, the boy would be pressed to find a way to pay more.
Armed with knowledge, Tyrone stood his ground confidently. He wasn't confident that the thug wouldn't hit him, he would never give someone power over him like that. And he knew he would lose in a fight, so one might wonder, where did his confidence come from?
If there was anything Tyrone knew, he knew himself well. This man could make him eat dust easily, but if he was pushed far enough, he could kill the thug also.
Going too far? Yes, he was, he knew that, so he needed to be pushed, he couldn't...he wouldn't do anything drastic otherwise.
Part of him feared the pain to come and part of him anticipated the excuse he would have to unleash the caged demon within him.
But today nothing was fated to happen today.
"Hey hey hey, leave the boy alone" a familiar voice came from afar as a short man rushed towards them.
Tyrone sighed in relief but his expression remained stoic as he stared at the thug still towering over him.
"Return his keys" the arriving stout man ordered. Dark-toned like his colleague, he flaunted a long fake gold chain around his neck.
"I didn't tak-"
"Return his key!" the roar attracted the attention of many around them, mostly women who had stopped managing their stores to watch what was going on. They were familiar with this occurrence now, but not often with a young boy. Frowns of disapproval were thrown towards the thugs.
"My keys are with me" Tyrone spoke up. He knew this stout man. He was of the same town as his mother and since they identified themselves as distant relatives, the stout man had been his protector around the market area...for a price. Every time Tyrone saw him, he had to give him something, not too significant but certainly substantial. Tyrone did not like him, he knew this stout man was milking him, but true to himself, Tyrone would rather get underestimated than overestimated...so he played dumb and maintained the status quo.
"Tell him to give me something" the large thug relented but still pressed for benefits.
Reaching into his pocket once more, Tyrone took out a single bill from the bunch he had been counting and handed it to the large man who accepted it gracefully and walked away. They both knew Tyrone was going to give him everything earlier but now only gave a single bill; the boy played smart, and the boy won. But the thug could do nothing. He could neither hold a grudge, nor press for more. To him, the boy was being petty but Tyrone was playing smart, saving money, and at the same time not making an enemy. Sure, he gave only a single ten-dollar bill, but he gave something.
Without being prompted, he reached deeper into his pockets, counted out a hundred, and handed it to the stout man.
"Thank you," he said with a smile before returning to his car.
By now, it was evening. The day was coming to an end but he loved working nights the most.