Taxi Tales part 1: Lost Fares

"Car 14 clear and heading for home," I say into the radio.

"Car 14, Roger," comes the reply. "Have a nice night, Dale."

"Thanks, Jill." Jill's the dispatcher. A nice lady. I

think she kinda likes me, but I don't know why. It's the

cool of the morning, oh about 4:00 a.m. Best time of the day:

traffic minimal; people mostly indoors, asleep; it's quiet.

'Bout an hour or so from now and people'll start moving again.

The city will wake. I hope to be asleep by then.

I pull the taxi into the parking lot. It's mine for the

night. No one else's scheduled for it until after my shift

tomorrow. Then they pick it up from the lot and return it.

Perks for being senior driver.

Tiring day. Some are good, some are bad. This one

was tiring. Too many drunks who wanted to argue about the fare,

too many people who wanted me to settle arguments. That's not

my job. Funny what people think a cabby should be. Ah, well,

tomorrow would be better . . . . Or, maybe it would be worse.

Different, anyway.

I get out of the car and lock the door, looking around.

Hadn't been robbed yet, but no sense not having your wits

about you. City can be dangerous for the unwary. I stretch,

breathing in deeply of the scent of flowers and trees in bloom.

Like I said, best part of the day.

It's a long walk up to the fourth floor. Be nice if

they had an elevator, but they don't. Put my key in the lock

and open the door. Home. Ain't much, just a bachelor pad,

but it's where I live. Home.

I sit down at the small table and figure out my take for

the day. Not as much as it could be, but more than I get on a

bad day. Some people think cabbies got it good. Sit down all

day, just drive around. Think they take in everything on the

meter. Ain't so. We get a cut of the take, and it ain't enough.

Sometimes work a whole shift for less'n minimum wage.

After the figures were entered in my log book, I relaxed.

Tips weren't too bad. I declared some, but not all of them.

Only a fool declares everything. Only a bigger fool declares

nothing. I'm neither. So I declare a percentage. It varies

day to day and the auditor will like the fact that I write it

down every day--if they ever audit me. Haven't yet. I'm tired.

Just sort the mail, take a shower and go to bed.

Damn. I forgot to check the mail. I ain't walking down

four flights of stairs just to get the mail. It'll keep. I

put the undeclared tips in the can that's buried in the flour.

Quite a bit there now. I'll count it someday. Mad money.

The shower is hot and feels good. I want to stay in, but

I know the longer I stay in, the less time before traffic starts

up, and I want to be asleep by that time, so I don't stay in.

Instead I towel dry, brush my teeth and climb into bed. Maybe

I'll have good dreams.

"Good morning, Kate." Kate works at the restaurant on the

corner of 4th and Hill. She has the 6 to 2 shift. I try to

be on hand to pick her up when I can, which is fairly often.

It's nice having a lady like her riding in the cab. Take her

home, sometimes, too. She's a looker. She's one of those

women who you just want to be around. Cute, cheerful, willing

to talk to a fella. Have her in your cab and it's a better

day already.

"Hi, Dale. How's life treating you?" she asks.

"Not bad," I reply, "can't complain." Well, I could,

of course, but it wouldn't do no good. 'Sides, she don't

want to hear it, less'n it's a legit complaint. Like the

time I was driving her home that night. I just heard my

brother had died in a car crash. Then she was willing to

hear. We talked some that night. Wasn't busy, so I just

parked outside her place and we talked. Found out some

things 'bout her and told her some things 'bout me.

Funny that. Mostly I don't like to tell nothing 'bout

me. That night, though, I was feeling lonely and told her

some things. She invited me in, you know, and I was tempted.

Only an hour to go on my shift and it wasn't busy. No one

would have cared. And she's a real looker. Got her a body,

she does, as well as a nice face. Probably could have made

her, too, what with her feeling sorry for me.

But I do that and she gets to thinking the next day and

I lose a regular fare. Ain't worth it. But I'll bet she's

real good in bed. She moves real slinky like. It's a treat

to just watch her walk, which I do. She probably thinks I'm

a good guy, waiting 'til she gets inside before driving off,

but I'm watching her walk.

She ain't talkative today. "Thanks," she says as I

let her off. Maybe I'll take her home tonight and she'll

say something. She got her a boyfriend. Lady like her,

guess that's not hard to figure. He works in the camps,

in one month, out two weeks. When he's out he drives her

to work, mostly, but she still catches a cab back home.

It's a busy night and I'm picking up and dropping off

a lot of fares. After yesterday it's a good feeling. Couple

of them good tippers, too.

"Car 14 down for lunch," I radio in.

"Car 14, Roger." I wait. "Dale, if you're in the

neighbourhood, you mind picking me up the regular."

"Gotcha." Jill likes fast food from the hamburger joint.

Burger, fries and a milkshake--vanilla. I tell her she should

eat better, but she don't listen. Make my own lunch. Don't

cost as much and tastes better. But I don't mind picking up

for Jill. Then I take it in and we eat together.

Jill's a classy Lady. Don't take no guff from us cabbies,

she don't. She can give as good as she gets, so none of us

try to give her any, least not no more. New guys, sometimes.

We older guys, we just wait for the entertainment to begin.

"Hi, Jill," I smile at her and hand her her bag of

poisons.

"Thanks, Dale." She motions me to a seat, which I

take.

She looks at me funny, every now and then and I start to

wonder if she's got the hots for me or something. Other guys

are starting to clue in to something or other and Fred, he

winks at me as he passes through the office. But I'm probably

reading something into nothing. He probably thinks I'm trying

to put the make on Jill. He ought to know better. Anyone tries

to put the make on our Jill, and he's liable to get tossed on

his ear.

But it's nice to have someone to eat with. I don't like

to eat in the car. I like a clean car. So I get out to eat.

Sometimes I just sit on a bus-stop bench, sometimes I eat in

the park if it's early. I like eating different places different

times.

I think too much, I guess. This time when I finish thinking

I find Jill's been looking at me again. I grin at her. "Sorry,"

I apologize. "You you say something? My thoughts were somewhere

else."

"No, Dale," I like how she says my name, "I just like

looking at you."

She looks like she's scared I'll make fun of her or

something for saying that. I won't. Don't do you any good

to do stuff like that. 'Sides, if I do then I won't have anyone

to eat with. I turn my head.

"This is my *good* side," I tell her and she laughs. Jill

has a nice laugh. I laugh with her. I'm almost sorry when I'm

done and have to go back on the road.

Jill's okay. There are others, though . . . . These two

ladies get in my cab. I hate it when a lady wears too much

perfume and one, if not both, of these two are. I'm not

surprised.

"Thanks for stopping, sport," the older one says to me

and gives me an address. We drive along in silence. They are

talking to each other and I try not to listen. I don't need

to hear stuff like that.

"Okay, ladies. We're here. That'll be $10.75." They look

at each other and I groan to myself.

"Tell you what, sport," the older lady says, "how about

taking it out in trade?" The younger one looks a little

embarrassed. That'll wear off. The older lady tries a smile.

"I'll give you a blow-job, right here. Half price." When

I don't say nothing, she continues, "If you don't like me,

how about Ashlee here? She'll make it worth your while."

Ashlee has the grace to blush.

"Just get out of the cab."

Ashlee is going to say something, but the other lady

pushes her out. "Thanks, sport," she smiles at me then walks

away as if she hasn't just stolen money out of my pocket.

Ashlee makes to follow, then turns back before I put

the car in gear. I look at her, no welcome on my face.

"I'll see that you get your fare," she tells me, which

surprises me. "One way or another." She takes note of the

cab number, then turns away.

"Lady?" I make my voice smooth. Don't want to frighten

her.

"Yes?"

"I'd rather you just get out of the business. It ain't

for you and it ain't worth it. You need bus fare back home,

you come and see me. It ain't no life worth living."

Ashlee looks at me all funny-like. It's like she wants

to trust but can't quite do it. I just sit there, waiting.

Finally she makes a decision.

"Can you wait here two minutes?" she asks.

I nod and she turns and runs after the other lady. It's

closer to five minutes, but she comes running back, carrying a

small suitcase. She gets in quickly and I don't wait for an

address. We're three blocks away before she gets up the nerve

to ask if I'm for real.

"The Bus Depot?" I ask. She nods.

"I don't know when I can pay you back," she says, then

hesitates, "unless you . . . " she can't finish.

"You're young enough to be my daughter," I tell her. "If

I was your father I'd just be happy to see you back home. I

wouldn't care whether or not you 'made it' in the big city.

You can always try again later. Where you were heading, though,

it's hard to come back from. Want my advice?" I don't care

whether she wants it or not, she's going to get it. "Don't tell

nobody nothing. Just say you decided that you prefer it back

there. Ain't nothing wrong with changing your mind. Remember

that."

She nods at me and I think she's going to start crying,

but she holds it back. Kids. I shake my head. Think they

know everything and scared to admit they don't. We get to the

Bus Depot and I ask where she's going. She tells me. It ain't

too far off. Turns out she knows the fare. I give it to her

with a little extra for something to eat. I'm a sucker, I know.

She's probably just running a scam on me. Easy money. I'll know

better next time.

A bus is pulling in when I let her off so I get in the

line. Who knows, maybe I'll get a fare, get some of my money

back.

I'm third in line when I see her walking out the front door.

Sucker, I tell myself. She looks at the cabs, peering through

the windows. Cabby out front gets out, figuring she wants a

ride, but she waves him off. She sees my cab and comes up to my

window. She leans in and give me a kiss on the cheek which

startles the hell out of me.

"Thanks . . . Dale," she sees my ID card. "My bus leaves

in 15 minutes. I called home. My mom's going to pick me up."

So I ain't a sucker after all. Not this time. "A last

bit of advice?" I ask. She nods. "Wash off some of that make-up

before you get home." She nods again and walks back through the

front door.

I get a fare, and a good one. Then I barely have time to

get to 4th and Hill to pick up Kate. She's silent all the way

home. Not just silent, but she don't want me to talk, either.

After a time a cabby will know when the fare just wants

him to drive and nothing else. Kate just wants me to drive.

I just drive.

Third day in a row that Kate's doing the silent routine.

Sometimes a body wants silence and sometimes a body wants

someone to break through that silence. It can be tough

to tell the difference.

"Nice night," I say. She just looks straight ahead.

Unlike many fares, Kate likes to sit up front. "I hear it

might rain tomorrow." That's a bald faced lie. It's hot

and it's going to stay hot. Weatherman figures another

five days of this before we get relief. Kate don't say

nothing and I try to think up a new angle that won't get me

in trouble.

"Might rain tonight," she says quietly.

Shit. I pick up the mike, "This is Car 14, I'm going to

take an early one."

"Car 14, Roger. Nothing much doing anyway. Sleep well,

Dale."

"Will do."

I turn off the meter and take a right turn. This ain't the

way to Kate's place, but she says nothing. I'm not sure if she

noticed. Soon we're climbing what's known as Snob Hill. There's

a point where you can pull off the road. Sort of a little

lookout. I stop there.

"There's the whole city, down there," I say to Kate. The

city can look nice at night, all the lights on and all. I don't

know if this angle will lead anywhere, but she wants to talk and

that talk of rain might come true, too.

Out of nowhere she asks, "Have you ever had a dream, Dale?"

I don't like where this is leading. I've had a dream or two,

I want to tell her. I've been there. But I don't think she

really wants me to say anything right now. Maybe later, so

I just say, "Yes."

"Sometimes you have a dream and the dream becomes your

reality. Everything else is just a sideshow to your main event.

Soon you begin to believe in your dream and you work to make it

happen. It is wonderful, actually living the dream, moving

towards your final goal in a meaningful way.

"Yes, the city is beautiful from up here. The lights seem

friendly. Warm and friendly." She swallows a couple of times

before getting ready to continue. "But if you go down the hill,

go to one of those pretty, warm and friendly lights, you see all

the ugliness around.

"Sometimes dreams end. Sometimes they are destroyed."

She's been doing good, keeping calm, but now the rainstorm

starts. "He left, Dale. Left for another woman. One who makes

him feel more alive than I do."

"That hurts," I tell her. Women are funny ducks. You

try to solve their problems, you end up being their problem,

seems like. So I just agree with her and keep my solutions to

myself.

"Yes, it does."

"A lot," I contribute. Not that I really know, see, but

it seems the thing to say. I reach out and put my hand on her

shoulder. She brings up a hand on top of mine and squeezes.

She pulls my hand down and kisses it, then places it on her

breast. Damn. I'm going to lose a regular fare. One way or

another, I'm going to lose. I withdraw my hand and turn the

key in the ignition. "I'll take you home, now, Kate."

There must be something in my voice, 'cause she looks

over, through the tears and says, "I'd like that. I'd like

that a lot."

At her house I get out and go around the car to open the

door for her. She gets out, every inch the Lady I know she

is. She takes my hand and leads me up the walk. We go in

the front door and she leads me, without turning on any lights,

to the bedroom. She hesitates. I've lost her as a fare, so

what the hell. I lean down and kiss her neck.

"You're very beautiful, Kate. Always loved the way

you walk. Turns a man on." She reaches down to see if I'm

turned on. I am.

"Good," she says, though what she means is anyone's guess.

Kate is a class act. If I'm going to do her right, I got

to be classy too. I reach up and unclasp her barrette. Her

hair comes cascading all around. It is fine, silky hair and

I run my fingers through it. She turns around and raises her

head. I bend down to kiss her lightly on the lips. Just the

smallest touch. Lips brushing lips. I ain't in practice, but

I know what a Lady likes, and it ain't a big wet kiss with

lots of tongue right off the bat. Not in a situation like this.

I hold her close and her arms come around me. My lips are

near her ear so I murmur, "God, you smell good, Kate." And she

does. Just a hint of perfume. I nuzzle her and she tilts her

head to give me more room. My hands are caressing her back and

she seems to like that, too. Then they find the zipper and

slowly pull it down. Her skin is smooth and wonderful. She

steps back and allows her dress to fall to the floor. In the

dim light from the streetlamps outside I see her figure,

covered only by bra and panties. I whistle softly and she

smiles.

Her smile is one of those smiles that can light up a

room and make a man's heart pound. "Walk for me," I tell her.

She looks puzzled. "I love watching you walk," I explain.

"I been watching you walk for months," I add and she gets

that little look that tells you that she knows she has a hold

on you and that she likes it. She turns away and walks across

the room to the window. When she turns around, her bra is open

and her breasts are there, in all their glory. I just stand

there and stare. She laughs a victorious little laugh and comes

striding back to me in that slinky way she has. No, slinky

ain't the right word. It's softer than that, more exciting.

It ain't a come-on, it's more natural . . . oh, who the hell

cares what the word is. I bend down and kiss each breast

right on the nipple, giving the nipple a tiny flick of my

tongue. She purrs.

"You like what you see?"

"I like."

"I want to see you, too." She begins unbuttoning my

shirt. I shrug it off and it joins her dress and bra on

the floor. Then her hands are undoing my belt. I give a

little shiver and her smile gets that little hook to it.

You know, that hook that tells you that she knows the power

she has and that she's enjoying using it.

"Mmmm." My pants and underwear have joined my shirt.

I'm naked and she's running her hands all over me. I'm not

in great shape, but at 45 (20 years older than her) I'm not

all that bad either. She grasps me and I gasp. She pulls

me over to the bed and then pushes me back on it.

Kate is enjoying this and I let her enjoy, 'cause I'm

enjoying it, too. She lowers a breast to my face and I capture

it in my mouth. I caress her sides and one hand finds its

way up to touch and caress her other breast. I love how she

moans. So, it's one breast than the other, then her lips and

whatever else she wants. We're having a lot of fun, her teasing

and me being teased. Then she pulls back and lowers herself on

to me--I never even noticed her panties going the way of all our

other clothes.

"Ah!" I'm inside Kate. She's warm and wet and wonderful.

It has been quite a while. "You're beautiful," I tell her and

she knows I mean it. She goes wild on me, riding me and I

go wild right back, bucking up into her.

Afterwards I go exploring, finding all the little places

a woman has and loves to have a man find. Most of all I just

let her see how much I like being with her, playing with her

and making love to her. She is beautiful, she's just forgotten

it for a moment and needs someone to remind her. I'm happy to

be the one and I take advantage 'cause I know all too well it's

a one-time thing and what the end'll bring.

Soon as I'm sure that she's asleep I get dressed and

leave. No way she'll want me to be here in the morning. It's

going to be embarrassing enough as it is. No need to make

it moreso. I know that it wasn't me she wanted. By tomorrow

she'll know it too. That's when I lose my regular fare. No

more watching Kate's body move as she walks from the cab to

her door. No more enjoying the friendly smile and the talk.

It's over. Too bad. I shrug. Can't do anything about it now.

My room is as I left it. I do my fare sheets. Have to take

money from the can to make good what I gave to Ashlee or whatever

her real name is, not to mention the lost fare from the other

lady. Not a good night. Too many lost fares.

My days off go by uneventful. Then it's back to work.

I make sure I'm on time to pick up Kate. She sees me and

almost turns away, but gets a determined look on her face and

heads for the cab. I try not to shiver.

"Good morning, Kate," I say as I've said every afternoon

I've picked her up.

"We have to talk."

Yeah, I know, but why do they have to say it that way?

As if talking to a man is as unpleasant a chore as might ever

have to be done.

"Okay, Kate, I'll start." I planned this last night when

I couldn't sleep. "I had the strangest dream. Ever have a

dream, Kate?" She looks at me funny. "Well I had this dream

and you were in it . . ." I let my voice tail off. "Second

thought, maybe I'd better not tell you that dream. You might

think bad of me. Had another dream, though. Went flying without

a plane or nothing. Kinda scary looking down, but kinda exciting

too. Guess it ended okay, 'cause here I am, back at work. Going

to be another hot day, I understand."

Kate looks at me and smiles. We talk about nothing

important the rest of the way. As she gets out of the cab she

looks me in the eyes and says, "You're wrong, though." I raise

my eyebrows. "I wouldn't think bad of you." She turns and

walks into the restaurant. Her walk is just a little more sassy

than usual and I know it is for me alone. I also know it is a

one-time thing.

"One hamburger, one large fries, one vanilla milkshake and

a salad."

"Salad?" Jill asks.

"Salad. You got to start eating better." I like it when

Jill laughs.

"Oh, and I have something for you, too." She hands me an

envelope. I look at the front. "Dale, Car 14," it says and is

addressed to the Taxi Company. I shrug and open it. There's

a short note which I unfold.

"Thank you for getting Sandy back to us. Her father and

I are in your debt."

Sandy? The name ain't familiar. There's also a cheque.

I look at it. Then I understand. It comes to the amount I gave

'Ashlee' plus the cab-fare I didn't get plus a ten dollar tip.

I'm feeling pretty good and I smile, my thoughts nowhere

in particular.

"What is it, Dale," Jill asks.

"Nothing much. Just thought I'd lost a couple of fares,

but turns out I was wrong. I look at Jill again. She's got

a nice face. I wonder if she'd like to go out sometime after

work.

End of part 1