Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Pink bubblegum ballooned from Barbara’s pursed lips. She tapped the heel of her sneaker against the brick retaining wall she was perched on. Leaning back onto her elbows, she checked the church clock across the street.
“How long does it take to make the block?” she mumbled, straining her ears for the telltale rumble. A chilly breeze had picked up and she tugged the blanket tied around her neck closer. The distant squeal of tires against pavement drew her to standing.
A vision of powder blue and rust drafted around the corner of Water Street and South Avenue.
Barbara yanked a canvas satchel from the ground. The hulking pickup slammed itself to a halt beside the sidewalk. A familiar long nose looked out the driver’s window at her, “Your ride, milady!”
“We’re not going to make it!” She threw her bag in the bed and managed an (un)delicate landing beside it.
Stevie adjusted his glasses, “We will if I have anything to do with it.”
Slamming the gas, the truck shot off into the night. Barbara braced against the cab, white-knuckling the edge of the open sunroof. Her blanket rippled regally in the wind.
And then… there it was.
Stevie jerked the steering wheel to sail around the concrete barriers. They all groaned in protest at another lurching stop.
Swiping windblown tendrils from her flushed face, Barabara leaned toward the open drive-thru window. “Pick up for Barbara, please.”
Eyes wide, the cashier mutely handed her a bulging paper sack.
“Oh, right,” she fumbled around in her jacket pocket and slapped a crumpled check into his still outstretched hand. The cashier’s eyebrows nearly threw themselves off his face. He looked at the paper in his hand, and then back to her.
“Keep the change,” Barabara pounded the truck’s roof, “Onward, Stevie!”

300 words exactly. Thank you!