![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merryghoul) wrote2011-12-15 02:55 pm
Groundhog Day
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Sam, Fiona, Michael
Word Count: 1120
Summary: Another day, another chance to save Michael.
“Surveillance is boring, Sam.” Fiona stopped looking out of her binoculars. “You sit in a car for hours without moving and you’re forced to look at traffic for hours. And Miami traffic is not exciting traffic until after 8 PM, but that’s because there’s no traffic.”
“And we’re stuck in this car monitoring this South Beach club because Mikey needs proof there’s Russian gangsters smuggling ecstasy around here.”
“That’s why I turned the radio on. It’s more exciting to listen to than sitting in a car listening to you gripe about Michael.”
“I don’t gripe about Michael all the time.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
Fiona’s phone rang. It was Michael. She was listening to Michael explain his situation while pretending to relay an order of ecstasy to his supplier.
“What’s up, Fi?”
“It’s Michael. Remember Arkady?”
“Yeah, Mikey told me he had it all covered.”
“He made it into that penthouse on Sunny Isles Beach, but those gangsters think Michael’s working with the DEA. They’re very close to shooting him and making his death look like an accident.”
“Well, let’s get out of here. What’s the fastest way to get to Sunny Isles Beach, Fi? Do I stay on Collins or should I drive downtown, head up Biscayne for 100-some blocks, turn back on Sunny Isles Boulevard and then drive into Sunny Isles?”
“Biscayne. The lanes get bigger after North Miami.”
Sam started the car, drove out of the hotel parking lot near the club they were monitoring and headed towards Biscayne Boulevard and downtown Miami.
Traffic was thick in downtown Miami when Sam’s car first got onto Biscayne Boulevard. Sam was forced to trail a transit bus after the first stoplight he arrived at. Immediately after the stoplight turned green, the transit bus made a stop at a green bus stop sign and a covered bench. Fiona turned on the car’s radio. A hip pop song was ending on the station the radio was tuned to.
“That was ‘Hey Baby (Drop It to the Floor)’ by Pitbull featuring T-Pain. Up next in the hour we have DJ Khaled, David Guetta and a flashback jam by Trick Daddy. This is WASN, Miami’s home to On Air with Ryan Seacrest.”
Sam turned the radio off.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry, Fi. You can watch Ryan Seacrest on Pop Idol at home.”
“American Idol. Pop Idol is the name of the show in the UK.”
“Whatever. I need to concentrate so I can pass this 3 bus, or it’s going to take 90 minutes for us to get to Sunny Beach Isles. I can’t play with that Pitchfork crap on the radio.”
“It’s Pitbull.”
“Look, I’ll care after we pass this bus.”
Traffic started to thin out after the bus and Sam left the downtown area for the Design District. Sam backed off of the bus slightly before passing it as it was stopping for another stop. From there, Sam drove as fast as he could on Biscayne Boulevard, passing as many cars as he could. After 50 blocks, near Hialeah, a police car flagged Sam’s car. Sam pulled over.
The police officer tapped Sam’s window. He rolled it down.
“What’s your hurry, sir?”
“I’m Chuck Finley. This is my wife, Charlotte. My brother, Officer Michael Finley, has just been shot in an incident in Aventura.”
“Why haven’t I heard this on the police scanner yet?”
“There was an outage. Some of the more recent things on the scanner never reached police officers in Miami Shores. You probably missed it. We’re trying to get to the hospital up there. He’s pretty close to death, and we’d like to give our last regards.”
The officer nodded. “I’m sorry about your brother, Mr. Finley. This time you’re getting a warning—no ticket, no fine. If I catch you speeding again, things will be different.”
“Thank you, sir.” Sam rolled up the window and drove back on the road. Once the Miami Shores police officer was out of sight, Sam started to speed up and pass cars on Biscayne Boulevard until he reached Aventura and 189th Street. He took a right and drove on the street.
“Do you know which complex Michael went to?”
“Ocean III. It’s near 189th Street. The dealers are on the 34th floor facing the ocean. But, knowing Michael, he’s probably found a way to climb into someone else’s condo to escape the thugs. Hell, he’s probably running into the parking garage, ducking bullets as we speak.”
“Does Michael have a cell phone on him?”
“No. When he called me, the Russians yelled something in Russian in the receiver and let the phone fall off the balcony.”
“So Mikey can’t jump into a pool or he’ll turn into a pancake.”
Fiona looked at Sam. She had a smirk on her face.
“I’m going to drive into the Ocean III parking garage and hope Mikey runs down the stairs so he can get into the car and escape the Russians.”
“It’s like Groundhog Day, except with less groundhog and more bullets.”
“You said it.”
Sam took a left onto Collins Avenue and drove north towards Ocean III. As Sam drove into the Ocean III parking garage, Michael had run out of the stairwell leading to the parking lot. Sam drove up to Michael, hit the brakes and unlocked the doors. Michael climbed into the back seat as the Russian gangsters shot at Sam’s car. Sam sped out of the parking garage and back onto Collins Avenue. From there, he took a left turn and headed south on Collins.
“What went wrong this time, buddy?”
“I don’t know, Sam. I told Arkady I was a club promoter and I was willing to sneak in some ecstasy when I brought the Swedish House Mafia back to Miami for my next promotion. Everything went well until I tried to seal the deal. Then Arkady’s men turned their guns on me.”
“I told you not to wear that suit, Michael. Arkady probably got jealous.” Fiona shrugged, smirked and turned the radio on. The same Pitbull song that was playing when Sam and Fiona were stuck behind the transit bus was playing. Sam groaned.
“You know, this life feels like it’s a Hollywood movie,” Sam said as he neared Michael’s loft. “I have to drive sometimes, rescue the hero and occasionally I get to return to some sweet mojitos. But you know what? I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Sam parked at the club where Michael and Fiona lived.
“Now, if you’ll excuse my language, I have to be getting back to my old lady. I mean, I can’t be drinking in the loft and driving home at the same time. That’s too reckless.”