“Oh, baby… You only get better with age,” Miles cooed as Landon gave him a perplexed look. He lifted an eyebrow at Miles, looking at his older brother as if he were insane.
Maybe I am. I love this fucking car, Miles thought happily.
“What?” Miles asked as he gave the kid a nonplussed look.
“You’re talking to the car like it’s a woman,” Landon said looking confused.
“The finest of women,” Miles uttered. “This old girl has never let me down.”
Miles inserted the key into the ignition, and the motor purred as it started up. The sound was like heaven to Miles. It was ecstasy. Corina’s motor was heaven and hell, sweetness and sin all rolled up into a single sound. It brought back a flood of memories for Miles. Opening up the glove box, he grabbed a CD. Not even bothering to look at the title, he inserted it into the CD player, and not a second later, a familiar song blared out. “Born To Run” wailed from the speakers as Miles revved the engine. As the Boss’s familiar voice cranked from the stereo, Miles gave a glance over at his brother. Miles winked at Landon. Landon had a fresh look in his eyes. He had hope. It had been a long time since Miles had seen hope in anyone’s eyes. The feeling was infectious. Miles couldn’t help but feel a little hope, himself. Two seconds later, he slammed on the gas pedal as the Charger sped forward leaving his past and Franklin Correctional Facility behind him.
So this is what freedom feels like. No ties to the past. No cage to hold me. Nothing could tame this wild heart. Nothing could rein me, chain me or hold me down. I have debts to collect, and I won’t stop until redemption is mine.
“Where are we going?” Landon asked when he saw that Miles was heading south on Market Street instead of towards the Ben Franklin Bridge that would lead towards Jersey.
“A quick detour,” Miles said as a slick smile grew across his face.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Landon said with a weary tone to his voice.
As Corina pulled up to the stop light, Miles looked over at the kid with a wink. “What’s life without a little excitement?”
Miles could hear him gulp from across the car. Corina roared down Broad Street as Miles weaved through traffic.
“Fucking cabby! Move!” Miles yelled out as he was nearly clipped by a taxi driver going no less than ninety miles an hour through Center City traffic.
“Lunatic,” Miles griped.
“Dude, where are we going?” Landon asked with a nervous edge to his voice.
Miles was still singing along to the song that blared from the radio, so he didn’t bother answering until the last word was sung. Finally, Miles answered him in the most nonchalant voice that he could muster, “South Philly.”
It was the place where all this bullshit began. But today, I’m not on business. Today, I’m just fucking hungry and I have a hankering for some Mi Famiglia grub. The corner café might look like a hole in the wall to an outsider, they have the best damn food in South Philly. Think mussels, linguini… hell, they even serve up a mean cheesesteak. It has been forever since I had a decent meal. The kid, though I wouldn’t exactly call him scrawny, looks like he could use a good meal, too. Mi Famiglia also happens to be wise guy central.
“Please tell me you just wanna see a Phillies game, or something,” Landon said, his leg tapping up and down. The further into South Philly they went, the more Landon’s anxiety showed.
Cutting through the city, Broad Street was a major artery. It was always crowded, always full of activity. You can see the best of the city, from the theatres and restaurants that line Broad Street in Center City to the clusterfuck of beggars, prostitutes and fast food restaurants at Broad and Snyder. Nothing had changed since Miles last saw it. Sure some of the store names weren’t the same. But the shuffle? The coming and going of people? The stark contrast of poverty and wealth? It was all the same. Broad and Snyder. Miles knew this intersection well. It was a crossroad of his own life. Freedom and Incarceration.
The light turned green and Miles hit the pedal as fast as he could, leaving the intersection behind him. Seeing the place where he had fled for his life only to be arrested set his teeth on edge. Miles sped past South Philly High, careened past Methodist Hospital, and made a sharp turn onto Wolf Street. It was like no time had passed at all.
“Come on, man,” Landon complained. “The Penrose diner is right down the street! Why Mi Famiglia?”