Turn To Me by Tiffany A. Snow Page A

stack and head back out into the cold for my deliveries.
    I finished my runs and was on my way to the courthouse for my last delivery, which had to be there by noon.  Suddenly, I noticed my steering wheel was pulling to the right and an odd sound was coming from my car.  I slowed down as it got progressively worse, finally forced to pull off to the side of the road.  Grabbing my gloves, I pulled them on as I got out of the car.  As I walked to the front, I saw what the problem was and groaned.  My right front tire was flat as a pancake.
    I stood staring dumbly at it, wondering what the heck I was going to do now.  I knew how to change a tire, but shied away from doing it in the freezing cold with all the slush and snow lining the road.  I was sure to get filthy trying to change the tire by myself, and while I wasn't opposed to having to do that, I really didn't want to. 
    Cars flew past as I contemplated my predicament.  Not only did it look like I was going to have to lay out cash for a tow truck and new tire, there was no way I was going to be able to get my delivery to the courthouse in time.  Diane was going to be pissed.
    As I wavered in indecision, a taxi pulled up and off to the side in front of me.  Surprised, I turned to see a familiar figure get out and walk toward me.
    “Frankie?” I asked as he got closer.
    “Hey, K-k-kathleen,” he stammered, shoving his gloveless hands into the pockets of his jeans.  “What hap-happened?”
    “I got a flat,” I gestured helplessly to the deflated tire.
    “D-d-d-do you n-need a ride?”
    I brightened.  “That would be great!”  If I could get to the courthouse, I could get the documents delivered on time and then I'd just call a tow truck from there.
    I went to grab my purse from the car and hesitated – I still had Blane's gun.  There was no way they'd let me in the courthouse with it, that was for sure.  Making a quick decision, I opened my glove box and pushed the gun inside, grabbed my purse and files from my car before locking it and following Frankie to the taxi.  It was blessedly warm inside the car.
    “Where t-t-to?” he asked, once he was behind the wheel. 
    “The courthouse, if you don't mind,” I answered, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.
    He nodded once and we set off.  I was glad for the stroke of luck that had him nearby.  After a few minutes, I ventured a question.  “How have you been, Frankie?  And your sister?”
    “G-g-good.  C-Chrissy loves the s-s-s-snow.”
    I smiled.  “Me, too.  Especially here at Christmas.”
    “Your f-f-face is b-better,” he offered.
    I realized he meant the bruises from the encounter with the mugger the other night.  I lightly touched the still tender skin of my cheek.  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, surprised he could see them, considering how much makeup I had pancaked on this morning.
    We made it to the courthouse with about fifteen minutes to spare and I hurriedly dug inside my purse for money, glancing at the meter to see how much the ride had cost.  I had just enough cash on me to cover it.
    “Here you go,” I said, holding out the money. 
    Frankie tried to not take it, shaking his head.  “You d-d-don't have t-to p-p-pay,” he protested.
    “I absolutely do,” I insisted.  “I don't work for free and you don't either.  Come on and take it, I've gotta go.”
    He reluctantly took the money, then handed me a scrap of paper.
    “M-my cell.  In c-c-case you n-need a c-c-cab,” he stuttered. 
    I smiled my thanks, grabbed my things and hopped out, slamming the car door shut behind me. 
    “Thanks again, Frankie,” I tossed over my shoulder.  “You were a real lifesaver today.”
    He waved at me and I spared a hand to wave back as I jogged up the courthouse steps, being careful of icy spots that looked slick.
    “Well, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes!”  Hank exclaimed, a twinkle in his eyes.  Hank was the head security guard, a large, imposing black man.