Chatters on the Tide

by Robert Mitchell, Jr

  Chapter 11

  “Are you in the car or not?” Brenda asked.

  Willie could hear her just fine over the sounds of the diner, but he was paying way too much attention to his coffee cup.

  “Well?” she said. “Are you or aren’t you?”

  “You can trust me,” Willy said finally, lighting another cigarette, “but the game’s a little too rich for me, know what I mean?”

  “Quit blowing that smoke in my face,” Brenda said, “And up my ass. My plane’ll be here soon, and I’ll be unloadin’. I can’t be sitting around with shit I can’t move. I need to know I have an outlet.”

  The waitress came over and poured more coffee into Willie’s cup with one hand and then poured more water into Brenda’s glass with the other. Neither spoke until she was gone.

  “I understand,” Willie said. “Chill. You won’t get caught holding product, don’t worry. I’ll give you half on delivery and we’ll split the retail. You ain’t starvin’ are ya?”

  Brenda noticed that Willie still wasn’t looking at her, he was looking down at his coffee one minute and tapping the fire of his cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray the next. Willie turned his deck of Marlboro Lights over and over on the tabletop with his free hand. You can’t even look at me. Look at me jailbird, Brenda thought.

  “Naw, I ain’t starving. That’s fine, that’ll work.”

  “Alright, atta-girl, that’s my B.T.,” Willie said shifting down into a whisper. “I took care of you on the last load didn’t I? And I helped you get into that pissy little fire-proof box, didn’t I?”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Don’t you know it. I’m your boy. Look, I gotta put it in the wind. ”

  “It’s cool. We’re done here,” Brenda said. “See ya soon. And look, I’m sorry I was such a bitch..”

  “Ain’t no thang B.T. Catch you later.”

  They matched fists knuckle to knuckle and Willie tossed two singles onto the table before leaving. Brenda sat there for a minute, thinking.

  The wall was mirrored, and on it was painted green grapevines and magenta grapes. She guessed at some point this place must have been an Italian joint. It was a corner booth and she was sitting with her back to the door. Her reflection was dead ahead and she stared at it, a disembodied head that was resting on the back of the seat across from her. The waitress looked at me, even though she probably wanted to puke. Why couldn’t Willie? she thought. Are you lying to me Willie, or is it all about my face? I’m not lazy, I stay in shape, I’m tall, I’m smart. If it wasn’t for this face I could have been a CEO or something instead of this. But when we get the money, I won’t have to deal with guys like you anymore Willie. It’ll be easy street. She could not turn away from her reflection in the mirrored wall. Why did I sit with my back to the door? That was just stupid, for so many reasons.

  The more she thought about Willie and how he acted, the more Brenda began to feel as though she needed to keep shopping. In her mind she ran down the list of people she had done business with in the past and started crossing off the ones who were out of commission, would not take cold calls, wouldn’t be thrilled to hear from her, and so on.

  She was surprised when the waitress came back.

  “More water ma’am?” The waitress asked. As she had before, she looked Brenda straight in the face without turning away.

  “No thanks, not right now,” Brenda said, focusing her eyes on the tablecloth and keeping them there. “Look, I changed my mind, is that okay?”

  “Sure. More water coming up.”

  “No I meant about eating. Can I have a third-pound burger, all the way, and fries?”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  “No thanks, that’s it. I’m sorry. Decided to go on a shopping trip, so I’m going to need some fuel.”

  “It’s no problem, really it’s not.” the waitress said.

  “Good, thanks,” Brenda said. She looked up at the waitress. Her face was plump, round, open, young. Nothing special, Brenda thought, except that she can look at me as if I’m just like everybody else. And she fills out a pink t-shirt pretty well.

  “Coming right up.”

  Wherever I go, it’s going to be a ride. Ain’t nobody in this po-dunk town. She continued to go down the list of prospective dealers that could move something big. About the time she came up with a name her burger came. The waitress put it before her along with plastic bottles of mustard and ketchup and tiny crock of mayo. The bun was laid open and awaiting the condiments, one side toasted on the grill with butter, the other side brightly adorned by vibrant green lettuce and blood red tomato. The fries were still hissing. Brenda dug into her plate and rehearsed the sales pitch she would use on her next buyer.

  When it was gone she went outside to the payphone and dropped in two quarters.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Brenda said.

  “What’s up?”

  “I gotta go somewhere else. Willie’s smokin’ me right now, he’s...”

  “Listen here Brenda Taylor, don’t screw this up…”

  “I won’t, I’m not! There’s a guy I did business with once before in Billy’sburg. I’m taking a ride.”

  “Okay, I trust you. Now, remember what I told you. You’ve got power and you’re special. Don’t let us down.”

  “I won’t,” Brenda said. “I won’t.”

  “I know you won’t. You can do it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brenda said. “I’ll find another retailer, I promise.”

  “I know you will. Now go to it.”

  “Okay. See you.”

  “Kisses. See you.”

  She always knows what to say to get me on track, Brenda thought. Just when I’m starting to feel down, she gives me the shot in the arm I need. She’s so hot, so fine…

  She got on her two-wheeler and headed north on Route 17 toward Hampton. On the way she passed nice cars with preppy drivers, camoed soldiers from Fort Eustis, teenagers in convertibles, and soccer moms in SUVs. She wondered what it would be like to have a face that matched your insides, a face that didn’t frighten or repulse, a face that you could take to kindergarten, to the dance, or to a job interview.