![]() Petersburg offices of Campbell, Coxe and Kramner in the next thirty minutes. She pulled her phone from her backpack, found the transit authority website and schedule, and determined that with any luck, she just might catch a bus that might get her to the downtown St. But she hadn’t exactly had time to make friends since moving back to Florida’s west coast, and she no longer had a viable credit card for Uber, or even viable credit, for that matter.ĭrue had a vague memory of seeing city buses lumbering past on nearby Gulf Boulevard. ![]() ![]() “No way,” she muttered.īack when life was good, when she was living in Fort Lauderdale, she would have taken an Uber or called a friend for a lift when the 1995 Bronco she’d bought off Craigslist was having what Drue thought of as PMS. She now had fifteen minutes to get downtown to work. The engine caught briefly, the Bronco’s battered chassis shuddered, then fell still. She tried again, but the third time was not the charm. ![]() Now every single indicator on the control panel began blinking red. The motor gave a strangled wheeze and cut off again. ![]() “Thanks, babe.” She gave the cracked vinyl dashboard an encouraging pat, then shifted into reverse and eased her foot onto the accelerator. She gave it some gas and the motor roared to life. “Come on, OJ,” Drue muttered, trying again. Drue turned the key in the ignition and the white Bronco’s engine gave a dispirited cough, and then nothing. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |