by Mark Stewart
“EXCUSE ME, lady; my name’s Brandt. You’re in my seat.”
He reached up to take hold of an overhead leather strap. He stood swaying slightly to the rocking motion of the train. His facial expression portrayed a little boy who’d lost the most precious thing in the world.
The woman, on the higher side of middle age, didn’t look happy. She lifted her head, staring at the man hovering over her wearing a plain dark blue suit, grey shirt, and matching tie.
“Just in case you have any doubts, I sat here first, sonny,” she spat.
“I always sit in the seat closest to the front of the carriage.”
“Do you really, since when?”
“Yesterday,” announced Brandt.
“Get a life.”
“Please, I need to sit in your particular seat.”
“Listen, fella; I can see at least twenty vacant places in this carriage alone,” mocked the woman.
“I’m asking politely,” pleaded Brandt.
“Go away fly. I don’t like it when men grovel. They sound pathetic. Deep down they’re not real men at all.”
A few people diverted their gaze from the fences flashing past the train windows to the man towering over the woman. Whisperings travelled at speed from person to person throughout the carriage. In less than a minute, laughter erupted from the forty commuters.
“I know I’m making a fool of myself, but what if I paid you?”
“Can’t you tell I’m not interested?”
Brandt fished for his wallet. “Twenty. I’ll be happy if you would accept a twenty-dollar note. The only thing you need to do is vacate your seat.”
The lady lifted her hand to hide her proud look. She winked at the young pregnant woman sitting opposite her.
“I’ll pay you two-hundred for the privilege of sitting exactly where you are.”
The woman looked up. “You must be desperate.”
“It’s imperative I sit in the seat. I’ve exactly three minutes left.”
A tall heavy-set man wearing a black bikie jacket walked the length of the carriage. The man rolled up his sleeves revealing a large ugly tattoo of a skull and crossbow on each massive arm.
“Lady, is this bloke annoying you?”
“Yes.”
The heavily tattooed man grabbed Brandt by the tie, dragging him in close. “Fella, leave the woman alone. There’s a seat with your name on it at the other end of the carriage.”
“I need that particular seat she’s sitting on,” moaned Brandt.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t knock your block off?”
“I don’t need to give you a reason.”
“I’ll punch your lights out mate if you don’t move away.”
“Please, listen to reason. I offered to pay for the seat,” explained Brandt.
“How much?” growled the man.
“This fly offered me two-hundred dollars,” reported the lady, interrupting.
The big man stared at the woman. “Lady, I’d take the money.”
The woman stood, staring Brandt in the eyes, holding out her hand.
“Thanks for vacating the seat,” shrieked Brandt, dropping the money into the palm of her hand.
He watched the woman walk to the other end of the carriage then saw her sit, scrutinizing his every move.
The moment Brandt spied the train which he hoped carried the young lady he’d seen in the nightclub a week earlier starting to draw level, the other commuters watched him staring out the window. Curiously they focused on the approaching train. Their whispers echoed the same words.
‘What’s so important?’
The two trains slowly drew level. Brandt couldn’t hide his disappointment. He faced the people staring at him.
“When I drove to work the other day, I saw a gorgeous young woman sitting in the other train while I waited at the rail crossing. Except at the nightclub, it’s the only other place I’ve seen her. I did hope to see her close up. She’s not sitting where I thought she’d be.”
“Try a different window,” called the woman he’d given the money to. “This scene is more interesting than a TV show.”
Brandt’s pupils danced at the hope as he sprinted from window to window. He started to panic when the trains began to drift apart. Staring out of the last window he caught a glimpse of her. The young lady looked up, flashing a cursory glance his way. She flashed a quick smile before the trains forked to go their separate ways.
Brandt leapt into the air yelling at the top of his lungs. “She looked at me and smiled.”
“I too saw a young good lookin’ Shiela glance your way, fella,” stated the man with the skull and crossbones. “She’s a bit of alright. If I were you, I’d track her down even if it took me the rest of my life. I reckon it was worth every cent of the two-hundred bucks you paid just to catch a glimpse.”
CHAPTER FIVE