C is for Cash Cab, Chapter 1
I wrote this story for my Numb3rs/Game Show Challenge at numb3rs_gen_het, but I haven't posted it there yet.
This story is dedicated to JLM110108, AuntieAmy, Suisan, Ely1996 and DigeeDiva 'cause they rock.
Not that you don't, mind you.
The cab driver ran his hand over his close-cropped hair, and then pulled an old Brooklyn Dodgers cap over his eyes. He began to narrate, film noir style, to an unseen audience.
"The rain had stopped, but it was still uncomfortably chilly in the City That Never Sleeps," the driver declared in ominous tones.
"It was late in the afternoon and the streets were filled with people anxious to get home to their warm houses, to get to their warm hotel rooms, or to just get into a warm taxi."
He spotted three people huddled in their overcoats, looking like refugees. The older man had his left arm wrapped around the woman. His right arm was held awkwardly to his side and the driver could see a streak of white that looked like a sling.
There was a younger man on the woman's left who was anxiously scanning the street.
"The cab driver spotted three likely contestants and decided it was time to swoop to the rescue, or is that to the attack?" he intoned. He suited action to words. The van style yellow cab nosed its way to the curb.
The older man leaned closer to the woman and said something. Both the woman and the younger man raised their hands as if to answer a question posed by the teacher. The cabbie smiled just a tad to acknowledge that they were hailing him. There would be a lot of questions answered soon.
The younger man pulled open the door and stood back to let the woman enter first. As she clambered into the back seat, he hesitated and looked at the older man, who gestured for him to precede him into the cab.
The older man climbed in and awkwardly pulled the door shut. As he turned around, he looked at the license posted between the driver's cockpit and the passengers. The name read "Ben Bailey", but the picture was so faded that it could have depicted anybody.
"Where to?" the cabbie asked, throwing a grin over his shoulder.
The younger man said nothing, but his eyes widened a trifle in recognition. The cab driver tapped the side of his nose, like he was a character in the Sting.
"Laight Street and West," the older man instructed. "90 Laight Street to be specific." He pulled his seatbelt around left handed and managed to get it buckled.
"Ah, the Park Right Garage," Bailey said after a brief pause to consult his GPS.
"Yeah."
"Going for a little jaunt?" Bailey persisted. "Perhaps do a little sight-seeing?"
"Yes," the older man said with forced patience. "We'd like to see something besides the city lights."
"Good idea," Bailey replied. "But before you do so…"
There was a blare of music and the roof of the cab lit up like Times Square.
The woman in back squealed, put her arms over her head and pulled her feet up. The younger man shrank into the corner, although he didn't look especially surprised at the display.
The older man looked as if he was ready to leap back onto the frosty street.
The cab driver's voice stopped all action in the back. "You guys are in the Cash Cab. That's the game show that takes place right here in this taxi."
The woman stared at the cab driver for a moment, relief evident on her face. After a few moments she found her voice. "Oh, I've seen this show! It's on Discovery Channel, usually between Dirty Jobs and Deadliest Catch."
She put her feet down, and then pulled her bag up and clutched it to her chest as if not trusting the cleanliness of the cab's floor.
"How appropriate," the younger man said. Apparently not entirely convinced that nobody was going to start shooting, he straightened up cautiously.
The older man still looked ready to leap into the street.
The cab driver smirked. "As you can see, my name is Ben Bailey and I'll be your host. I'll be asking you trivia questions all the way to your destination. The more you answer, the more money you'll win."
He grinned evilly. "The catch is... get three strikes and I will kick you out of the cab right onto the street where-ever that happens to be!"
The older man looked at the younger man, who shrugged.
"So, whaddya say? You wanna play?" asked the cab driver.
The older man twisted slightly to look over his shoulder at the woman.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," the woman said. "It's too late to back out now."
The older man glared at her, and then transferred the glare to the younger man, who shrugged again.
"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" protested the younger man. "Besides, what do you have to lose?"
"Aside from getting kicked out into the cold?" the older man asked dryly.
"It'll be miserable trying to find another cab," the cab driver argued, gesturing towards the on-going struggle between pedestrians on the sidewalk. "You could be stuck here for hours trying to find another."
The older man sighed. "Well, it looks as if we have no options," he said in resignation.
"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Bailey observed.
"He's just worried about looking bad on TV," the younger man said. This earned him an annoyed look.
The older man shrugged and sighed. "Popular culture isn't our strong suit," he said.
"Okay, before we play, there are a few more rules you need to know. You have two shout-outs, a street shout-out to whomever you can flag down where we are. Plus you have a mobile shout-out to whoever you think can answer your question."
"Lovely," murmured the older man.
"So, you ready?" Bailey asked.
"Lay on, MacDuff," the younger man said cheerfully.
"Not wanting to sit here all day, I'm forced to concur," the older man said.
The Cash Cab pulled out. "So, what are your names?"
"I'm Amita," the woman released her grip on her oversized bag long enough to give a little wave.
"Charlie," the younger man supplied.
The older man sighed and squirmed in his seat. "Lawrence," he said at last.
"Ooo-kayyy, Anita, Charlie and Lawrence, you have twenty-one blocks to rack up as much cash as you can. Are. You. Ready?"
"Only if you call me 'Ammmmmmita,' not 'Anita'," Amita said with a small grimace.
"Ah, sorry," Bailey said. "Well, that's the Cash Cab's first strike ever! Two more of those, and I'll have to get out and let one of you drive!"
"Not Charlie!" both Lawrence and Amita blurted.
Bailey laughed but didn't make any further comment on that. "Okay, here's your first question for twenty-five dollars. Applying the same principles as a hovercraft, what popular arcade game features handheld mallets and floating pucks?
"That'll be Air Hockey, Ben," Charlie replied. There was a pause.
Bailey checked over his shoulder. "You're in the hot seat, Lawrence. You have to deliver the official answer before time runs out."
Lawrence straightened up as if stung. "Oh, I see. As Charlie said, it's Air Hockey."
"Correct! You've just won twenty-five dollars!" Ben grinned. "You're second question is... Represented by the 16th letter of the Greek alphabet, this irrational number is also known as Archimedes constant."
"PI!" all three blurted, even before their brains could kick into gear.
"That is correct, you're now up to fifty dollars!" Ben said. His eyes beneath the Brooklyn Dodger cap sparkled maliciously. "Next twenty-five dollar question, in 2006, what hit TV show was criticized by the Dean of West Point for depicting torture as an effect interrogation technique?"
His dark eyes met Charlie's and he seemed to be giving the younger man a warning.
Lawrence looked at Charlie, who shrugged. Lawrence looked over his shoulder at Amita, who was looking at the floor as if hoping to find the answer there. That left him on his own. "Um, Alias," he guessed.
"Oh, no! That's strike one!" Ben said. "The correct answer is '24'."
"Never watched that," Lawrence said with a sigh.
Ben took one hand of the steering wheel long enough to shake his finger at his passengers. "Be careful. Two more wrong answers and I'll have to kick you out of the cab." He caught Charlie's eye and emphasized his warning. "No matter where we are. I don't want to do that!"
Charlie shivered a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. "No, it's kind of cold out there," he said.
"Well, shake it off, Professor," Bailey advised. "'Cause here comes your last twenty-five dollar question. What former NASA consultant is now known as TV's "science guy"?"
"Bill Nye the Science Guy!" Amita blurted out immediately.
Lawrence repeated her answer.
"Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! You're up to seventy-five dollar BILLs!" He smirked.
Amita looked down at her shoes, apparently to hide the little smirk of triumph.
"Now we're on to the fifty dollar questions, and they're a bit harder," Ben warned.
"Lovely," Charlie muttered. He looked out of his window as if contemplating jumping out into traffic.
"Ah, such wonderful enthusiasm," Ben said. He practically oozed enthusiasm himself. "In the world of poker, what is the term for a behavioral tic that gives away a player's hand?"
"Tic?" Charlie murmured. He looked over his shoulder at Amita, who dropped her eyes to her feet. "Megan must have talked to you about that," she murmured.
"Five seconds…" Bailey warned.
"She did... what the... TELL!" Charlie blurted out the answer and Lawrence echoed it.
"That's right!" Ben forced a laugh. "Good work! You pulled that out at the last minute."
"Oh, spare me," muttered Lawrence.
"You want to change seats?" Charlie asked, earning a dirty look in return.
"Go ahead, Ben," Amita called from the back. "We're ready!"
"Here's an apetizing tidbit," Ben said. "What type of food was once advertised as "the other white meat"?
"Turkey," responded Lawrence without consulting the others.
"Ouch! Oh, no! That's strike two!" Ben cried. "One more and you're out! Pork! Pork is the other white meat!"
All three passengers looked outside the cab, as if trying to judge their odds of getting another cab.
"We're going to wind up walking if you keep answering without thinking," Charlie informed the older man.
Lawrence gave him yet another dirty look.
"Things have taken an ugly turn in the cash cab," the driver intoned. "Here's a shot at redemption. More obvious in a man's neck, the laryngeal prominence is more commonly referred to by this biblical name."
There was a long pause as the three passengers looked at each other blankly.
This story is dedicated to JLM110108, AuntieAmy, Suisan, Ely1996 and DigeeDiva 'cause they rock.
Not that you don't, mind you.
The cab driver ran his hand over his close-cropped hair, and then pulled an old Brooklyn Dodgers cap over his eyes. He began to narrate, film noir style, to an unseen audience.
"The rain had stopped, but it was still uncomfortably chilly in the City That Never Sleeps," the driver declared in ominous tones.
"It was late in the afternoon and the streets were filled with people anxious to get home to their warm houses, to get to their warm hotel rooms, or to just get into a warm taxi."
He spotted three people huddled in their overcoats, looking like refugees. The older man had his left arm wrapped around the woman. His right arm was held awkwardly to his side and the driver could see a streak of white that looked like a sling.
There was a younger man on the woman's left who was anxiously scanning the street.
"The cab driver spotted three likely contestants and decided it was time to swoop to the rescue, or is that to the attack?" he intoned. He suited action to words. The van style yellow cab nosed its way to the curb.
The older man leaned closer to the woman and said something. Both the woman and the younger man raised their hands as if to answer a question posed by the teacher. The cabbie smiled just a tad to acknowledge that they were hailing him. There would be a lot of questions answered soon.
The younger man pulled open the door and stood back to let the woman enter first. As she clambered into the back seat, he hesitated and looked at the older man, who gestured for him to precede him into the cab.
The older man climbed in and awkwardly pulled the door shut. As he turned around, he looked at the license posted between the driver's cockpit and the passengers. The name read "Ben Bailey", but the picture was so faded that it could have depicted anybody.
"Where to?" the cabbie asked, throwing a grin over his shoulder.
The younger man said nothing, but his eyes widened a trifle in recognition. The cab driver tapped the side of his nose, like he was a character in the Sting.
"Laight Street and West," the older man instructed. "90 Laight Street to be specific." He pulled his seatbelt around left handed and managed to get it buckled.
"Ah, the Park Right Garage," Bailey said after a brief pause to consult his GPS.
"Yeah."
"Going for a little jaunt?" Bailey persisted. "Perhaps do a little sight-seeing?"
"Yes," the older man said with forced patience. "We'd like to see something besides the city lights."
"Good idea," Bailey replied. "But before you do so…"
There was a blare of music and the roof of the cab lit up like Times Square.
The woman in back squealed, put her arms over her head and pulled her feet up. The younger man shrank into the corner, although he didn't look especially surprised at the display.
The older man looked as if he was ready to leap back onto the frosty street.
The cab driver's voice stopped all action in the back. "You guys are in the Cash Cab. That's the game show that takes place right here in this taxi."
The woman stared at the cab driver for a moment, relief evident on her face. After a few moments she found her voice. "Oh, I've seen this show! It's on Discovery Channel, usually between Dirty Jobs and Deadliest Catch."
She put her feet down, and then pulled her bag up and clutched it to her chest as if not trusting the cleanliness of the cab's floor.
"How appropriate," the younger man said. Apparently not entirely convinced that nobody was going to start shooting, he straightened up cautiously.
The older man still looked ready to leap into the street.
The cab driver smirked. "As you can see, my name is Ben Bailey and I'll be your host. I'll be asking you trivia questions all the way to your destination. The more you answer, the more money you'll win."
He grinned evilly. "The catch is... get three strikes and I will kick you out of the cab right onto the street where-ever that happens to be!"
The older man looked at the younger man, who shrugged.
"So, whaddya say? You wanna play?" asked the cab driver.
The older man twisted slightly to look over his shoulder at the woman.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," the woman said. "It's too late to back out now."
The older man glared at her, and then transferred the glare to the younger man, who shrugged again.
"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" protested the younger man. "Besides, what do you have to lose?"
"Aside from getting kicked out into the cold?" the older man asked dryly.
"It'll be miserable trying to find another cab," the cab driver argued, gesturing towards the on-going struggle between pedestrians on the sidewalk. "You could be stuck here for hours trying to find another."
The older man sighed. "Well, it looks as if we have no options," he said in resignation.
"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Bailey observed.
"He's just worried about looking bad on TV," the younger man said. This earned him an annoyed look.
The older man shrugged and sighed. "Popular culture isn't our strong suit," he said.
"Okay, before we play, there are a few more rules you need to know. You have two shout-outs, a street shout-out to whomever you can flag down where we are. Plus you have a mobile shout-out to whoever you think can answer your question."
"Lovely," murmured the older man.
"So, you ready?" Bailey asked.
"Lay on, MacDuff," the younger man said cheerfully.
"Not wanting to sit here all day, I'm forced to concur," the older man said.
The Cash Cab pulled out. "So, what are your names?"
"I'm Amita," the woman released her grip on her oversized bag long enough to give a little wave.
"Charlie," the younger man supplied.
The older man sighed and squirmed in his seat. "Lawrence," he said at last.
"Ooo-kayyy, Anita, Charlie and Lawrence, you have twenty-one blocks to rack up as much cash as you can. Are. You. Ready?"
"Only if you call me 'Ammmmmmita,' not 'Anita'," Amita said with a small grimace.
"Ah, sorry," Bailey said. "Well, that's the Cash Cab's first strike ever! Two more of those, and I'll have to get out and let one of you drive!"
"Not Charlie!" both Lawrence and Amita blurted.
Bailey laughed but didn't make any further comment on that. "Okay, here's your first question for twenty-five dollars. Applying the same principles as a hovercraft, what popular arcade game features handheld mallets and floating pucks?
"That'll be Air Hockey, Ben," Charlie replied. There was a pause.
Bailey checked over his shoulder. "You're in the hot seat, Lawrence. You have to deliver the official answer before time runs out."
Lawrence straightened up as if stung. "Oh, I see. As Charlie said, it's Air Hockey."
"Correct! You've just won twenty-five dollars!" Ben grinned. "You're second question is... Represented by the 16th letter of the Greek alphabet, this irrational number is also known as Archimedes constant."
"PI!" all three blurted, even before their brains could kick into gear.
"That is correct, you're now up to fifty dollars!" Ben said. His eyes beneath the Brooklyn Dodger cap sparkled maliciously. "Next twenty-five dollar question, in 2006, what hit TV show was criticized by the Dean of West Point for depicting torture as an effect interrogation technique?"
His dark eyes met Charlie's and he seemed to be giving the younger man a warning.
Lawrence looked at Charlie, who shrugged. Lawrence looked over his shoulder at Amita, who was looking at the floor as if hoping to find the answer there. That left him on his own. "Um, Alias," he guessed.
"Oh, no! That's strike one!" Ben said. "The correct answer is '24'."
"Never watched that," Lawrence said with a sigh.
Ben took one hand of the steering wheel long enough to shake his finger at his passengers. "Be careful. Two more wrong answers and I'll have to kick you out of the cab." He caught Charlie's eye and emphasized his warning. "No matter where we are. I don't want to do that!"
Charlie shivered a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. "No, it's kind of cold out there," he said.
"Well, shake it off, Professor," Bailey advised. "'Cause here comes your last twenty-five dollar question. What former NASA consultant is now known as TV's "science guy"?"
"Bill Nye the Science Guy!" Amita blurted out immediately.
Lawrence repeated her answer.
"Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! You're up to seventy-five dollar BILLs!" He smirked.
Amita looked down at her shoes, apparently to hide the little smirk of triumph.
"Now we're on to the fifty dollar questions, and they're a bit harder," Ben warned.
"Lovely," Charlie muttered. He looked out of his window as if contemplating jumping out into traffic.
"Ah, such wonderful enthusiasm," Ben said. He practically oozed enthusiasm himself. "In the world of poker, what is the term for a behavioral tic that gives away a player's hand?"
"Tic?" Charlie murmured. He looked over his shoulder at Amita, who dropped her eyes to her feet. "Megan must have talked to you about that," she murmured.
"Five seconds…" Bailey warned.
"She did... what the... TELL!" Charlie blurted out the answer and Lawrence echoed it.
"That's right!" Ben forced a laugh. "Good work! You pulled that out at the last minute."
"Oh, spare me," muttered Lawrence.
"You want to change seats?" Charlie asked, earning a dirty look in return.
"Go ahead, Ben," Amita called from the back. "We're ready!"
"Here's an apetizing tidbit," Ben said. "What type of food was once advertised as "the other white meat"?
"Turkey," responded Lawrence without consulting the others.
"Ouch! Oh, no! That's strike two!" Ben cried. "One more and you're out! Pork! Pork is the other white meat!"
All three passengers looked outside the cab, as if trying to judge their odds of getting another cab.
"We're going to wind up walking if you keep answering without thinking," Charlie informed the older man.
Lawrence gave him yet another dirty look.
"Things have taken an ugly turn in the cash cab," the driver intoned. "Here's a shot at redemption. More obvious in a man's neck, the laryngeal prominence is more commonly referred to by this biblical name."
There was a long pause as the three passengers looked at each other blankly.