Taxi Driver From Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

"Mr. Zane, please repeat yourself. Where were you when the accident happened?" I sat in the interrogation room, my hands cuffed together. I rubbed my temples hard when I heard that. "I already told you! I was in the basement of my villa watching a movie! I never drove that car! "But there's no surveillance camera in the basement. Who can prove you weren't driving it?" Sitting through the police questioning, I let out a deep sigh, overwhelmed with regret. If I had known this would happen, I never would have let Vanessa bring that so-called godbrother into our lives.

I asked. “Please stay out of this, ma’am,” the driver snapped. “This man flagged down my taxi knowing he had no money.” I walked back to my car, grabbed a hundred-dollar bill, and handed it to him. “Here. That should cover whatever he owes.” The driver snatched the money, muttered something under his breath, and drove off. “Such an impatient man,” the stranger beside me said calmly. “And dramatic.” That was when I really looked at him. Stud in his ear. Loose sportswear. Probably around Ray’s age.

Forestry, I quickly make my way out of the building. Partly because I want to go pick my son up early from Mrs. Mehra's place, and partly because I feel like a piece of shit about the fact that I'm betraying Enzo. I make my way to the side of the road, wanting to take a taxi. A couple of taxis pass by but none of them stop at my signal. Suddenly, a stunning Porsche pulls up in front of me. The window slowly rolls down. I'm about to tell whoever is the driver not to waste his time but my words get stuck in my throat when I see who the driver is.

Their driver immediately stepped on the brakes. The taxi swerved violently. Tyres screamed against the road. The taxi driver looked away from the road for one fatal second. BOOM! Metal crashed against metal. Glass shattered. Both vehicles jolted. Their SUV barely moved. The taxi spun slightly before stopping. The driver cursed under his breath. "Boss, are you alright?" "I'm fine." Ethan glanced at the minor scratch on the SUV. "The taxi driver?" "He... he's running." The man had already abandoned the vehicle and disappeared into a nearby alley.

Aries answered. “Okay. Let’s go and find Mr. Fox Wolf,” Thomas nodded. Right after saying that, a taxi pulled up in front of them. The difference from other places was that instead of a four-wheel taxi, it was a three-wheeled rickshaw! One could only imagine how underdeveloped the economy was here. The driver opened his mouth and talked in choppy English with a weird northern accent. “Where do you two want to go? I can take you there.”

While Marvin was having a stand-off against the cultist, the taxi sped through the bustling streets, leaving behind a cacophony of honking horns and startled pedestrians. Pavan sat beside Kuro, who was slumped and unconscious, his battered body leaning awkwardly against the seat. Crystal, sitting in the front, glared impatiently at the road ahead. “Drive faster,” Crystal urged, her voice sharp. The taxi driver, a middle-aged man with a balding head and a pair of aviator sunglasses, replied in a calm but slightly amused tone, “Madam, I am following the rules of the road. I can’t just drive faster because you said so.”

Immediately after that, they found the taxi that was trying to get some passengers in the city through the city’s taxi positioning system. In order to form an absolute deterrent to the taxi driver, Isaac specially transferred Albert’s subordinate, Jayden Marquez, over so that Jayden could personally come forth and speak to the taxi driver. The taxi driver would not have expected to have alarmed one of the Four Great Guardians under Don Albert. So, even though he was very shocked and frightened at the same time, he immediately retold every detail of the circumstance that he could remember happening at that time. Carvalho and Mason had been talking about this person named Falco Xanthos on the

But to my luck, a small blue taxi pulls up right in front of me. “Please! Stop, please!” I wave frantically. I don’t wait for the driver’s response as I slide inside just in time to see three bulky men running out of the building. “You a thief or something?” the driver asks after screeching away. “—I’m not a thief, I just—” I trail off, watching Antonio’s car closing in behind us.

Quietly, he pressed the accelerator, speeding away. The taxi driver remained silent and did as he was instructed. When they arrived at St. Thomas, he pressed the brake, locked the car doors because Henson wanted to alight, but the door wouldn't open. Henson looked at the driver in confusion and asked, “Why the fuck did you lock the car door?” The taxi driver calmly replied, “Pay your bill.” Impatiently, Henson asked, “How much?” The driver responded, “Ten thousand dollars.” Henson angrily dug into his breast pocket, threw some dollar bills onto the driver’s face, and said, “Here.”

Silently, I pull out my wallet and hand the man a couple of bills. “Sir, this is too much!” The driver tries to protest as I climb out of the taxi. “Like I said earlier,” I say lazily, grinning at the driver. “Keep this ride off the record, and I will give you a nice payday.” The driver’s eyes widen, his gaze returning to the handful of bills I had handed him. I knew there must have been a couple of hundreds, maybe even a grand, in his hands, but the man earned it. Not once did his ticket meter get turned on. Not once did he make a note of where he was driving to. As long as he kept his mouth shut, nothing would happen to him.