The Devil's in the Details
The cracked leather seats ran with rivulets of sweat beneath his legs, and the hard steering wheel bit a path through his forehead as he slept in the blistering Autumn heat. He'd been waiting for hours for God only knows what. Frank wasn't an information guy. They told him to wait here, so here he waited.
It wasn't the best job, but hey the money was good. He woke with a start as the ramshackle truck's passenger door was flung open.
"Drive!" The voice was urgent, but Frank's groggy, sleep addled mind was anything but prepared to deal with urgency.
His passenger was a woman in a dainty, frilly, pink dress. She looked as though she'd just come from high tea, and she made Frank feel like a street urchin by comparison. He'd been baking in this truck since sunup and his t-shirt was soaked through with sweat. He'd bummed this straw hat off a man passing his window as the sun crested the trees and began to burn his face.
"Drive!" She said again, fear causing a slight shriek in her tone.
That was enough to get him moving. As the truck lurched out onto the road, he heard a ripping noise beside him and looked to see this strange creature tearing the skirt off of her dress. What remained was the bodice and a pair of pants that she had rolled up to her thighs.
She directed him to turn left, and take the highway, and drive the common speed with the prettiest pink mouth he'd ever seen.
He did as he was bid, and tried to pluck up the courage to ask her name.
"Pull off," she ordered, "right here is good." She looked at him with eyes as blue as Heaven he was sure and said, "get out."
Too entranced to question her, he got out, but she didn't follow. She scooted over, and before he could react she drove off in his truck. Her only goodbye was a cloud of dust. He choked on it for most of the way to the bus stop. As he rode the bus back to Timmy's place he realized this meant he would be getting paid for his truck as well and he tried not to do a happy dance. That old thing had needed replacing.
The door to Timmy's was always locked, and it did no good to knock, so he leaned against the door frame until someone within deigned to open it. For once, it didn't take too long.
"What are you doing? You're supposed to be waiting!" Timmy's bellow reached him the moment the door was opened.
"She came," Frank answered shoving past to feel the sweet bliss of the air conditioner.
"She came?" Timmy's question was an atom bomb on a still night.
And suddenly he knew, "I wasn't waiting on the girl." He worried briefly what the consequence of crossing Timmy might be, he'd never heard of anyone who'd actually had the gall before. Then, it struck him. He'd been swindled by the most angelic creature he'd ever beheld.