by Tim Sabados
Sammy reached for the black thong draped over the railing near the stage. How it got there was anyone’s guess, but the thought made him quickly pull away. That thing was probably teeming with some kind of STD. Who or what it had been in contact with was anyone’s guess. Just another article vomited from the guts of the night’s festivities. Besides, this was Ariek’s place, not his. Better to let him and his cleaning crew deal with it.
He slid into the booth off to the side of the bar and anxiously tapped the edge of the table with his finger. It wasn’t the most pleasing of sounds, but it was better than the alternative. Silence. It lay across the club like a thick wool blanket and soaked up any last bits of the once-energetic evening.
Sammy despised this time of the night. The early hour both pushed him out the door and held him prisoner. He could never shake away that ear-numbing quiet that clung to every molecule in the air. He hated being alone with only his thoughts to entertain him. Hated the absence of music, the lights, the crowd, the striptease, the clop of stilettos against the stage floor. Hated not having the drinks, the pills and occasional line to stimulate his brain into a frenzy. He reached into his pocket for his stash, but thought otherwise. It just wasn’t the same without his senses being thrown into overdrive.
He gazed around the room, hoping another drink would magically appear. A sigh. No such luck. Sammy bowed his head and stared at his phone. Aryssa would call back. She wanted him. He was sure of it.
“Sammy,” Ariek called.
Startled, Sammy looked up and tipped his chin. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ariek walked toward the booth. “Thought you were long gone.”
Sammy shook his head. “Soon.” Slid his phone into his pocket.
Ariek clicked his tongue. “You weren’t talking with …?”
Sammy sheepishly shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“You need to let it go.” Ariek gestured toward the stage. “This place is crawling with potential and yet you cling to the one you can’t have.”
Sammy slashed Ariek’s suggestion with a slice of his hand. “I’ve had it and I’ll have it again.”
Ariek gestured toward the phone in Sammy’s pocket. “She turned you down, didn’t she?” His tone was a little more mocking than usual.
“How do you know that she didn’t?” Sammy questioned defensively.
“I know you all too well,” Ariek countered. “That gloom in your voice is a dead giveaway.”
Sammy grunted. “She’ll come around.”
“If you say so,” Ariek mumbled.
“Mark my words,” Sammy retorted. He watched Ariek lower himself into the booth and sit directly across from him. “When she does, she’ll be all mine.”
Ariek purposefully rolled his eyes. “You’re dreaming if you think you can land a woman like Aryssa.” He paused. “She’s one of a kind.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sammy smiled. “And amazing in more ways than you realize.”
“Count yourself as lucky to even have had the chance.”
“It wasn’t luck,” Sammy said optimistically. “She wanted it and she liked what she tasted.”
“If she liked it so much, how come she hasn’t been back for seconds?”
Sammy grunted. “She needs time to digest the first to realize she wants another.”
“I think she’s had more than enough time to realize her mistake.” Ariek softly exhaled his discontent. Lifted his glass. “You want one?”
The conversation had curdled Sammy’s mood. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” Ariek sipped and kept silent for a few seconds. “You’ll have plenty of distraction when those new recruits come.”
“We both will,” Sammy replied halfheartedly. He gazed at the table, allowing his thoughts to drift to Aryssa. The way she could move her body. Shake that tight…
“Could be well worth your time to individually inspect each of them.”
Sammy shook to the negative. “I want nothing to do with retreads.”
“This is supposed to be a clean batch.” Ariek advised enthusiastically. “You could break them in. You know…satisfy that overly active libido of yours. Forget all about…” He cringed. Did his best to hide his expression. “Well, you know…”
Sammy sighed sharply. “Maybe.” He paused to mull over the idea. Would it quench his lust for Aryssa? “You know they don’t like it when we dip into the newbies.”
“Hey.” Ariek held out his hands. “Who’s going to know?” Tapped his chest. “I’m not going to say anything.” Pointed at Sammy. “Doubt you would either. And the newbies…” a huff of dismissal, “who’s going to believe them? That’s even if they open their mouths.”
“None of that helps me right now,” Sammy said in an unadorned tone. “That’s still a couple of days away.”
Ariek held up his palm. Fingers glued together. Thumb spread away from the rest. “There’s always the internet and Miss Michigan.” He snickered as he lowered his fist to his crotch. “It’ll tide you over.”
Sammy staved off the dig by harboring the thought. “I just might.” A pause. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough after watching her.” He bit his lip to contain his hunger. “God, does she have a body made for…”
“Easy now,” Ariek interjected. “You’re just going to get yourself all worked up over nothing.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It’s not like I haven’t watched her,” Ariek admitted. “But our plates are going to fill up real fast. Got to keep our eyes on the prize.” A tip of his drink. “You’ll have to deal with that issue later.”
Sammy huffed. “I’d rather deal with it now.”
“It’s all too obvious that she doesn’t…” Ariek waved the sentence away. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”
“No. I need to get up early.”
“Early? You?” Ariek questioned with a bit of surprise in his voice. “How come?”
Sammy’s brows crinkled. “My morning manager is out sick and the nephew will be there by himself.” He hesitated. “I’ve told you…not the brightest bulb in the pack.”
“I thought you were getting rid of him.”
“I can’t.” Annoyance coated Sammy’s words. “I promised my sister.”
“So you’re going to keep letting him screw things up?”
“That’s why I’m going in early.” Sammy pressed the pads of his fingers into the tabletop. “I’ve got to watch over him.”
Ariek scratched his ear. “How long has it been?”
“Not even a month.”
“And he’s caused you this much grief?” Ariek sipped his Scotch. “How much worse can it get?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,” Sammy replied. “My patience can only last another week or two.”
“Then what?” Ariek tapped his glass. “Your sis will blow a gasket if you fire him.”
“And my mom and uncle and…” Sammy massaged his temple. “I can’t keep letting him tear my business to shreds.” Cleared his throat. “And to think that she wants me to train him to be a manager.”
Ariek leaned back. “Thank God that’s your problem, not mine.”
“Very funny,” Sammy said sarcastically. “At the moment he’s near the bottom of my list of problems.” Ran his finger over his brow. “We’ve got other more important things to worry about.”
“I’m well aware.” Ariek pinched his thumb and forefinger together. “I still haven’t come up with a solution to our other problem.”
“I haven’t either,” Sammy confirmed. “We need one soon.”
“Yes, we do,” Ariek agreed.
Dread zipped across Sammy’s nerves. He shivered. “Yes, we do.” They needed to find a solution to their problem sooner rather than later.
3
The water was as smooth as polished granite. The effervescent glow of the skyline and the city’s numerous lights were mirrored in the river�
�s glossy varnish.
The bow of Charlie’s speedboat was lifted to the level of his eyes and almost blocked the view of everything in front of him. It didn’t matter though. His jet-black hair excitedly ruffled behind him. The twin engines thundered like the hooves of two thoroughbreds sprinting across a field. His heart galloped wildly inside his chest and fed off the whine that jettisoned from the motors. All those weeks of rebuilding and then the relentless hours of tinkering had finally made them behave the way they were meant to behave.
Charlie filled his lungs with Mother Nature’s untainted breath. The same nimble breath that seemed to chip away at humidity’s obesity drifted out over the river, climbed into the expansive atmosphere and disappeared into the dark and bottomless bowl above his head.
Things were better out here, especially on nights like this. Just Charlie and his boat, racing across the middle of the wide-open river. Free from the confines of the city. Free from the blackened fumes of car exhaust. From the claustrophobic crowds of people. From the stuffy enclosure of his apartment. He exhaled. And most importantly, free from the passengers that made it a point to lurk over his shoulder and ask all those stupid questions. How much longer? What’s it like over there? How come it’s so expensive for such a simple boat ride?
Charlie grunted to chase away the thoughts. They have no idea what it takes to keep this thing running. No idea what it costs to dock it. The marina fees. The gas. On top of it all, he had to somehow scratch out a living.
He banked starboard, away from the small lighthouse jutting from the tip of Belle Isle Pointe. Reluctantly left behind the dark throat of the river’s horizon, passed through its jaws of solitude and sped toward the twinkling lights of the marina.
The marina was well over a mile away, but closing fast. Its lights becoming brighter. The slips and countless boats bigger. A half mile. Quarter mile. Charlie didn’t want to give up the freedom, the ecstasy of speed as he zipped across the river’s expanse. Three hundred yards. It was time. Nearly one hundred yards. He cut the engine.
The bow dropped. The boat slowed, then bobbed as the trailing wake caught up and rolled under the custom flat black hull. Charlie swiped his hair from his face, then tapped his pocket to make sure the four coins were still there. Felt like it. He sighed. Another slow night.
The gas gauge was under of a quarter of a tank. He opened his wallet and ran his thumb over the bills. Several twenties. A few fifties. Money was getting tight, but there was enough to fill the tank. He’d have to pawn those coins sooner than he wanted.
As it should be, the light was on in the dockmaster’s shed. Charlie aimed his boat toward the pumps, slid sideways next to the dock and let his boat gently tap the rubber bumpers.
Honk. Honk.
Charlie waited nearly a minute. Nothing. He hit the horn again and kept his hand on it a little longer that he should have.
Another thirty seconds passed. He relentlessly tapped the steering wheel. Huffed a glob of his impatience. He was ready to lay on the horn once again, but hesitated.
The door to the shed swung open. A plump silhouette, the one that looked like that new guy, stepped out. It didn’t take long for Charlie to realize that it was him. The one who moved at the speed of cold molasses. The one who now slowly made his way down the steps and lumbered across the dock.
“What you need?” the dockmaster’s voice was as flat as a pancake and dry as sand. Even though sleep slackened his cheeks, annoyance burned in his eyes.
Charlie gestured toward the pumps. “Need to fill up.”
“Now?” the dockmaster glanced at his wrist. “It’s after four o’clock.”
“What difference does it make?” Charlie halfheartedly tried to cloak his aggravation. “You’re supposed to be open twenty-four seven. Or have things changed?”
The dockmaster didn’t say a thing. He hesitated a few seconds, then shook his head. “Nothing’s changed.” A long sigh. “You know you’re practically the only one who does this.”
“Does what?” Charlie questioned in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer. “Get gas this late?”
“Yeah.” The dockmaster nodded.
“I don’t like fighting the traffic and the crowds.” Charlie paused. “Besides, I pay for the convenience.”
The dockmaster rubbed his belly, set his gaze on the shed and then let it drift back to Charlie. He thumbed over his shoulder. “I need to get the keys.”
Charlie tipped his chin in acknowledgement. He watched the portly man trudge across the dock and up the sidewalk. If only that man was more diligent, maybe he…
There was another set of footsteps. Not as heavy as the dockmaster’s, but definitely a little more quiet. Hard soles on wood planks and moving in his direction. Who could it be at this hour?
A man stepped into the cone of light from the overhead lamp. Overweight and barrel-chested. Feet turned out as he walked. A chugging breath that gurgled with each exhalation.
The man stepped up to Charlie’s boat. His lips were a faint shade of blue. “You the man I’m looking for?” he boldly demanded.
Charlie cocked his head. “Sorry, I’m done for tonight.”
“I’m supposed to give you this.” The overweight man thrust out his hand.
Charlie eyed the coin. “That you are.”
“Well,” the man said firmly. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
“I will. But not now.”
“Why not?” The man scoffed. “I was told to come down here and give it to a man with long black hair in a black boat.” He pointed at Charlie. “Can’t miss him, I was told. Said I would be taken care of right away.” He looked up and down the dock. “Sure looks like that person is you.”
“Who said that?”
The man’s eyes squinted as if annoyance itself tried to squeeze them shut. “Some man with dark eyes. Black suit with a red tie.” A pause. “Does it matter?”
Charlie bit his tongue. The pressure inside his lungs bellowed with irritation to the point that his chest was like a boiler that cracked at the seams of his ribs. “You’ve been misinformed.”
“Are you kidding me?” The man’s impatience spewed out of his mouth. “What kind of crap operation are you running?” He pointed behind him. “I don’t have time for this. I was told I’d be taken care of, so I expect that…”
Charlie had had enough. He jumped out of his boat and stood toe-to-toe with the man. Towered over him as rage quivered across his nerves. He resisted the urge to wrap his large hand around the man’s fleshy throat and squeeze until his head popped like a grape. Instead he jabbed his thick finger at the man’s forehead. “I told you that I am done for tonight.”
The man’s eyes went wide with fright. He stooped under Charlie’s rage. “But…but…hey.” Held up his hands, “It’s…it’s cool.”
“What part of ‘I’m done’ do you not understand?”
The man stepped backward. “What…what do I…I do in the meantime?”
Charlie pointed at a bench down the dock. “You wait until I come back.”
The man nodded. Another step backward. “When will that…”
“When I come back,” Charlie answered. “Not a moment before. I get here when I get here.”
“What do I do with this?” The man glanced at the coin.
“You’ll give it to me, and only me, before you step foot on my boat.”
The overweight man nodded even faster. More steps backward.
“Now go!” Charlie demanded in a tone as hot as molten steel. “I don’t want to see your face until the sun is setting.”
The man turned and ran. More like waddled. His heavy footsteps slapping the wooden dock. Charlie took a deep breath to cool his throat.
“Who were you talking to?” the dockmaster asked from somewhere behind Charlie.
Charlie waved his hand dismissively. “Some prick was demanding that I ferry him across right this very minute.”
The dockmaster stared down the dock with skepticis
m spilling from his eyes. “I’m not seeing…”
“When it’s time to be done, it’s…” Charlie turned toward the heavyset man scampering down the dock. Then back to the dockmaster, only to realize that he wouldn’t understand. Charlie brushed away his blunder with a flick of his wrist. “Forget it.”
The dockmaster uneasily rubbed his hands together. “Umm, how much gas you want?”
“Top it off,” Charlie answered as he stepped back onto the boat.
The dockmaster silently gazed up and down Charlie’s boat. “I heard that when you first got this thing it was a total piece of junk.”
Charlie twisted off the gas cap. “It was.” Motioned at the opening.
“You’ve done some damn good work.” The dockmaster inserted the nozzle into the tank. “This thing’s cherry.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really. It gets all kinds of looks,” The dockmaster confirmed. “Got to be a blast to drive.”
“Best part of my day,” Charlie confirmed.
“How fast have you had it?”
Charlie flattened his hand and smoothly swiped it away from him. “Don’t know. Don’t really care.” A pause. “All I know is that it’s best when I’m out there by myself. Wind in my face. The sound of those engines. No one bothering me.” Became lost in the thought of the open water. It abruptly shattered. “Sometimes those customers can ruin it, but I always find a way to recover when I make my way back.”
The dockmaster slowly nodded. “Right, those customers,” he seemed to patronizingly agree.
Charlie looked at him doubtfully. “Yeah, those customers.” Again realized that the dockmaster probably wouldn’t understand. “They can be a pain in the…”
“Business must be good,” The dockmaster said in a tone dabbed with mockery. “I see you’ve been out a lot.”
“It’s been slow. Too slow. Should be better.” Charlie looked out onto the horizon, wondering if the reason for business being so sluggish was hidden in its shadows. “It’s not like I’m being paid an hourly wage or getting any benefits.”