The Ode to Max, and Vincenza (I own no rights to 'Collateral', no copyright infringement intended, this is an original work inspired by the film)
This story is my personal homage to Collateral (2004), one of the greatest films. I've often wondered how to make the Vincent character a woman, and of course a hugely strong one. The two main characters are also age-flipped, Max being much older than his foil. For those who have not yet seen the film, please see the film synopsis first, or watch the film later. I look forward to your comparisons.
Enjoy.
LAX International Airport, January 2024.
Max had been driving his yellow cab through the bustling streets of the city for decades. At 55, he still had the energy of a man half his age, and his youthful appearance often surprised passengers. He adjusted the rearview, checking his own reflection. Fifty-five years old, but still youthful — people often mistook him for a man in his thirties. His secret? A lifetime of late-night conversations with the city's insomniacs, absorbing their stories and laughter. Befitting his OCD, his taxi was equally pristine. He'd seen it all — the late-night revellers, the tearful farewells, and the quiet souls who preferred the anonymity of the backseat. But today was different. Today, fate had a surprise waiting for him.
It was a sunny evening fading to dusk when Max pulled up to the rank, to wait for his 2nd job of the shift. As he waited, the terminal door swung open, and out stepped Vincenza — a vision of contradictions. Max's eyes widened as he took in her features. Vincenza, she introduced herself, with a melodious voice that matched her vibrant aura. She was twenty, yet carried herself with the grace of a Dame. Her smile was infectious, and her eyes sparkled like sunlight on dew-kissed grass. But it was her physique that startled his inner Sherlock, a gift for observation enjoyed by many cabbies, heightened by years of monitoring traffic and their passengers. He had scanned her image in the side mirror and the tiny bolt-on that eliminated the blind spot. Her fur coat seemed oversized, the bulges in her upper body pushing out layers of fabric, as if she wore it not just to conceal what lay underneath, but to distract from something else...he just couldn't tell what. Standing at almost six feet tall, he could still detect the shoulders of an athlete, wide hips, cartoonishly feminine breasts, and thanks to a sudden gust of wind that opened the lower fringes of her mink a few milliseconds, one thigh at least, that could crush walnuts - assuming its twin tower was equally mighty. He switched to the rear view to get a better read.
There was a grace to her movements — a deliberate gentleness — as she glided with ladylike grace onto the fresh upholstery as if it were a fragile treasure, he thought as he started to input Fare 2 on his Trip Management system. Her rump, which so far she had kept out of his sight, brushing against the fabric as daintily as a butterfly landing on a petal. Nonetheless, the cab's suspension groaned as she settled into the seat, and he shot a glance back at the rearview mirror, to see her blushing nervously as she whimpered "Scusi". Suspicion crept in. How could someone so lithe and beautiful cause such strain on the suspension? Perhaps Vincenza carried secrets — weights hidden beneath her cheerful exterior. . Max's gaze traveled downward, and there it was - as she closed the door, the lower fringes of her coat briefly flapped open again before she hastily closed them, not soon enough though for his well trained eyes. Her legs, he confirmed, THEY were the true giveaway. Long, powerful, the ample muscles but not veined, as clearly fitting for clubland as they were for pushing both he and, if if his battery failed, his cab uphill until a recharging station was reached. Truly impossible to ignore. Max wondered just how much energy the universe had packed into this young woman.
"Where to?" Max asked, trying to regain his composure.
"1039, Sth Union per favore," Vincenza replied, her accent a soft Italian-accented serenade.
"Should be about 7 minutes".
"You can take long route if you want, I'm in the mood for adventure."
Max chuckled. "Well, you're definitely in condition for it. Took a lot of dedication to build up like you did so young"
Vincenza leaned back, her long legs stretching out. He had noticed, so she decided to relax, and have some fun. "Tell me about your love life," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Max nearly choked on his own breath. "Love life?" His had been a series of disasters and heartaches. Failed marriages, missed connections, and a heart that had learned to guard itself. He glanced at her reflection, wondering how much she could read from his old eyes set in a young face. The cab stopped at the lights, Max' distraction robbed from him.
"Love life?" Max repeated, clearing his throat. "Well, it's been a bumpy ride, to say the least." That wasn't a topic he expected from a passenger, not so soon, and not from a young girl. "Oh, yeah", he stammered, "it's been a while since — "
" — since someone handed you her card?" Vincenza interrupted his surprised rambling, holding up a business card with elegant lettering. "The last passenger left this. She seemed interested." She leaned forward, passing the card through the gap in the perspex partition, into his outstretched fingers.
Max's heart skipped a beat. The card bore the name "Annette Farrell," and her phone number was neatly printed below. Annie had been a striking woman, with a mysterious air about her. She'd smiled at Max as she stepped out of the cab, leaving him with a fluttering feeling in his chest. The lights turned green, and they moved off.
Vincenza grinned widely. "They say LA can be lonely place. You going to call her?"
"I'm not sure" Max admitted, seeing her slightly disapproving - or was it disappointed, he couldn't tell - frown. "Nerves, I suppose."
Vincenza leaned closer, her scent of wildflowers filling the cab. "Max," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, "sometimes life gives you choices. You can stick with what's safe, or you can take a leap into LA's unkown."
Max raised an eyebrow. "And what leap would you suggest?"
She grinned. "Well, if you're unsure about Annie maybe you should consider an alternative. Someone who's right here, right now."
Max's heart raced. Was she implying what he thought she was? "You?"
Vincenza's laughter bubbled forth. "Why not? I'm strong, positive, and full of surprises. You can show me the bright lights of LA."
Max hesitated. Vincenza was a powerhouse — a force of nature wrapped in a ladylike exterior. But there was something naive about her, too, flirting with him right after urging him to go with another woman - she, who had known him the GRAND total of two minutes. Maybe it was the way she looked at the world, as if every moment held magic. A dingbat, but heavens, her sultry beauty was exquisite.
Vincenza's interest shifted, her voice taking on a softer tone. "And what about love, Max? Has the city been kind to you in that department?"
Max's hands tightened on the wheel, and he took a moment before answering. "Love's the one area where LA's lights have dimmed for me."
Vincenza leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Tell me more," she urged, her curiosity genuine.
Max hesitated; this girl seemed to know how to intersperse brash youthfulness, with youthful innocence get him to open up. He noted quietly she'd make an amazing Therapist, if she didn't become a Olympic lifter. Finally, he confided, "Well, there was Sarah. Met her right here in this cab. Thought she was the one, but turns out she was just another tourist passing through LA."
"And after Sarah?" Vincenza prodded gently.
"There was Maria. Beautiful, fiery, full of life. But she wanted more than I could give. More than this cab could take her to."
Vincenza's eyes softened. "It sounds like you've had quite the journey, Max."
He nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "Then there was Chloe. She left me for a pilot. Said she wanted to see the world, not just the City of Angels."
The cab stopped at Union St, her destination. Reluctantly, Max turned around, fearful that without the rearview as a mask, she would see his unwillingness to let her go.
"And then?" Vincenza's voice was a whisper of encouragement.
Max took a deep breath. "After Chloe. I met Jenna. She was different, you know? Quiet, thoughtful. We'd talk for hours. But one day, she just"...Max bit his lip, and told himself it wasn't to stop it trembling. ..."stopped calling.", his voice almost inaudibly breaking. Almost.
Vincenza reached out, touching his shoulder. "You have a big heart, Max. It's clear you've loved deeply."
Max felt a warmth spread through him, her cheeriness infectious. "That's very kind of you," he said, a smile tugging at his lips.
Vincenza's eyes twinkled with empathy. "You've loved and lost, but you've also lived, Max. That's beautiful."
A silence fell between them, the hum of the engine and the distant city sounds the only accompaniment to their thoughts. Max felt a swell of emotion at Vincenza's earlier empathy, a lump forming in his throat as he fought back tears. It was rare for someone to care, truly care, about his stories of love and loss.
It was Vincenza's voice broke the contemplative quiet. "Max, I need to make 5 more stops tonight. I'm a Youtube influencer, and I'm surprising my top 5 fans here. Can you take me?"
Max felt torn, more than he'd been in a long time. The rules were clear, but her request, her presence, it tugged at something deep within him.
Max's respect for rules, order and procedure battled with the desire to say yes. "I'd love to, but I can't, it-it's against regs..."
They both knew, deep down, he didn't want this to end. As the silence lingered, Max’s thoughts were a tumultuous sea. Vincenza’s genuine interest in his life, her empathy, it was overwhelming. He hadn’t expected this ride to stir such emotions, but here he was, barely 10 minutes later, fighting back tears, unable to look her in the eyes, touched by the kindness of a strange girl.
Vincenza's was the youthful voice of reason. “Max, I am alone in LA, but you are alone too. It is good for us both to stay on the journey." The thought of spending the evening driving her around LA, learning more about her, was heartwrenchingly tempting.
She sensed his inner conflict, and decided to play the other side of the equation: good business. "Max please, I am lone female in the new city, and I have money. How much you make every night?
"The ride's free", he whispered. It was the least he could do for what she did for him.
"Please, how much?"
He could feel his resolve waning. "$450, $500. More if the Laker's are playing".
She smiled warmly, pulling out a stack of $100 bills. “Ok. $700 for the night, plus $100 for a timely airport drop-off. You know why I trust you. Please keep me safe??”
At that, Max’s resolve was upended, now that he could hide behind good stewardship of his passenger. She handed him $400. “I give you half now. You want to see my channel while you wait?”
He agreed, curiosity winning over. Her long fingers danced over his phone's screen, as she guided the app to her content. "Grazie, bello!" she intoned warmly, as she alighted. As Vincenza disappeared inside the building, Max browsed her channel, the first 3 short videos, a mix of cheer and charm. He watched her goof around, pranking some guys. In another she shared dog care tips with a Golden Labrador. The third was a series of her gym fails, which actually elicited a chortle from him. He went to the home page, the 'About' section.
But something was off. His brow furrowed. The account was new, only hours old. Youtube influencer? His suspicion grew.
The night air was pierced by the sound of shattering glass high above him, and a few seconds later, the explosive sound of a body crashing onto Max's cab. In a reflex of fear and disbelief, Max scrambled backwards out of his cab, his breaths shallow and rapid. Once outside, he stood, his legs shaky, to survey the damage — a lifeless form sprawled across his windshield, a grim tableau under the streetlights.
Before he could process the horror, Vincenza reappeared, her presence slicing through the shock that held him captive. Her eyes swept the surrounds for onlookers, and satisfied there were none to contend with immediately, stared icily at Max. "I suppose my cover is blown," she said, her voice cold and devoid of the earlier warmth, stripped also of the Italian accent, revealing a well-educated New England tone.
Max, still reeling from the shock, struggled to comprehend the situation. "You... you shot him?"
"I threw him through his window. Fall killed him. He was a target. Nothing personal, just business," Vincenza replied.
In one fluid motion, she reached up with one hand to haul the corpse off the roof while simultaneously drawing a gun with the other, pointing it squarely at Max. The ease with which she managed both tasks — a display of her extreme strength and lethal intent — sent another wave of shock through him.
"But I fully intend to shoot you at the slightest non-compliance", she said in cut-glass tones. "Open the trunk," she ordered, her gun unwavering.
