Chapter Text
February 2017
Theo had been driving cabs around the greater Boston area for the better part of a decade. He knew exactly where to hang out to get the biggest fares—and the biggest tips.
It was a Saturday night, and he was starving, though. If he turned out his light a few minutes before his shift ended, he could probably make it over to Mamacita’s to pick up the good tacos before they closed.
He was about to do just that when he spotted a man slipping out the front door of one of the nicer hotels in the area.
You’ve got to be kidding me, Theo thought to himself, but he eased his cab over into the right-hand lane closest to the hotel anyway.
The man, dark-haired and pink-cheeked, tugged his coat a bit tighter with one hand as he reached out to hail a cab with the other. Theo pulled up right in front of him.
“Where ya headed?” Theo asked, as the man slid across the leather of the backseat. The man answered, and Theo let out a low whistle. “Fancy part of town,” he said—the same thing he’d said the last two times Shane Hollander had climbed into the back of his cab.
It’s not like Theo was a big hockey fan, even, but he was staying with his cousins, and they loved to watch their beloved Bears. And if someone knew the Bears, they knew Ilya Rozanov. And if they knew Ilya Rozanov, then they knew who Shane Hollander was.
“Big night so far?” Theo asked, smirking as Shane jumped slightly in his seat. He’d heard on the radio earlier that Montreal had won the game 3-1.
“Hmm? Um—nothing special,” Shane replied. “Just in town for work.”
Theo chuckled, because it wasn’t technically inaccurate. They just had very different lines of work, he and Shane Hollander.
They drove in silence for a few minutes; traffic was awful, but when wasn’t it? Theo swore Boston rush hour never ended. When he peeked in the rearview mirror, he saw Shane was looking down at the phone clutched in his hand, a little smile on his face.
Theo wondered who he was texting with—though he had his suspicions.
The thing was, when you were a Boston celebrity—actor, musician, professional hockey player—word tended to get around about where you liked to hang out, the bars and restaurants you frequented, and even where you lived.
And Theo was driving Shane Hollander directly to the penthouse apartment that, according to Theo’s cousin Alma, belonged to Ilya Rozanov. At almost eleven o’clock at night. For the third time in a year.
Sure, he wouldn’t stake his life on that fact. Shane Hollander could be paying a late-night visit to some other resident of the swankiest luxury apartments in the neighborhood. But again, Theo had his suspicions, and he was rarely wrong about them. Driving a cab made you pretty perceptive.
It also made you pretty invisible, and while Shane Hollander had never been anything but polite, Theo didn’t have much reason to believe he’d recognize him despite their paths crossing multiple times.
It also made you crave a little bit of excitement every now and then, so Theo decided to press his luck.
“You know somebody who lives at this place?” he asked as they sat at a red light a couple of blocks north of the apartment building in question.
“Oh, um.” Shane Hollander’s cheeks pinkened again in the rearview. “Sort of.”
“Mm. It’s pretty nice. Must be some bigwig or something, to live in a nice place like this.”
“Uh—something like that.” Shane Hollander looked like he wished teleportation existed so he wouldn’t have to endure the rest of this cab ride. Theo chuckled again, and decided to let him off the hook. To let him keep his secrets.
After all, what did Theo care what a couple of professional hockey players got up to in the privacy of their own fancy penthouse? Besides, he was an ally. His cousin Alma had a girlfriend and everything.
So Theo drove Shane Hollander all the way to the front door of Ilya Rozanov’s apartment building, accepted his payment (plus a generous tip), and told him to have a good night without further comment. As Shane walked briskly up the steps to the double doors that would let him into the lobby, Theo saw him tap out a message on his phone again, that soft smile making another appearance on his face.
Yeah, Theo’s suspicions were always right. But he wasn’t gonna say shit.
He flipped off his On Duty light and checked the clock on his dash. Maybe he could still make it to Mamacita’s after all.