the second baby driver

Chapter 5: Mary the Dreamer

*Mary the Dreamer*

Leo wiped down the last table just as the rain started — thick, heavy drops that drummed against the shop’s tin roof. He didn’t flinch when the side door opened again.

*Mary slipped in*, damp hoodie clinging to her arms, face lit with that wild spark she always carried, like the city hadn’t crushed her yet.

“Hey,” she said, breathless. “I’ve got ten minutes before my aunt notices I’m gone.”

Leo looked up from the rag in his hand. “Lucky me.”

Mary smirked, pulled a chair backward, and straddled it. “You still pretending this is your life?”

He ignored her tone, finished wiping the table, and tossed the rag in the bucket.

“I mean it,” she continued. “You hate this job. This city. This whole damn act. Why stay?”

“Because it keeps me from starving,” Leo said flatly.

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Bullshit. You’re not like the rest of us. You’ve got... something in you. I can feel it.”

Leo avoided her eyes. He always did when she got like this — digging too deep, getting too close.

She leaned forward. “I had a dream last night.”

“About me?”“Always.” She grinned. “But this time, we were in a car. Not one of these junkers. A real one. Black. Fast. I was in the passenger seat. You were driving. And we weren’t running *from* anything. We were running *toward* something.”

Leo froze.

Mary kept talking. “I think it means we’re supposed to get out of here. You and me. Together.”

He forced a smile. “You’ve been watching too many retro movies.”

“Nope,” she said, standing. “I’ve been watching *you*. And I know when something’s building under your skin. Whatever you’re doing, Leo... don’t let it bury you before we get our shot.”

She walked to the door.

“Same dream tomorrow night?” Leo asked quietly.

Mary looked back, her expression soft. “Only if you’re in it.”

Then she disappeared into the rain.

And Leo, for the first time all night, let the silence settle — heavier than gunfire, deeper than engine roar.