3WW "The Fare"

The words over at Three Word Wednesday are adamant, fabricate and peculiar. This is a re-working of an older piece.

The Fare

She puts up a hurried, manicured hand up on the corner of Fifth and 55th, near the St. Regis.

I edge my Yellow Cab over. It’s 10 past midnight.

“Pier 84,” she says. “Near the Intrepid Air and Space Museum?”

“Little late for a museum tour.”

She looks out the window and waves a her hands, adamant that we leave.

I start the meter and give an eye to the fare.

She’s model beautiful, tall, willowy. Dark, wavy hair, skin like heavy-bond paper, bone. Simple black dress, something off-shoulder. I adjust the mirror and I can see skin, the elastic top of her thigh-high black hose. Blood-red nails match her lipstick. A simple diamond pendant rests in the little hollow of her neck. The diamond (a karat at least) is in a silver setting – platinum probably – and it matches her diamond stud earrings perfectly.

“Pretty rough place, at this hour.”

“Your tip depends on your speed in getting there,” she says, as she taps out a Morse-code text on her mobile, without looking up.

The pier is submerged in a greasy darkness. I through the cab into park with a lurch.

“Wait here, and for God’s sake, turn off your headlights,” she says as she exits in the harsh light of the dome light.

She doesn’t venture very far.

And hikes up her dress, squats and releases a stream of piss a drunken sailor would have been proud of.

Thing is, it’s the color of Mountain Dew. How do I know? It fucking glows. The entire, spreading puddle between her expensive heels.

There’s a goddamn sound, too, fucking peculiar. Then I get it – it’s like the Snap! Crackle! Pop! of a giant bowl of Rice fucking Krispies.

She stands and whistles in relief as she shimmies the dress over her hips, clicks back to the cab in heels on concrete and settles herself back into my cab.

I open my mouth and she puts a finger to her lips.

“Let’s just say it puts the other girls off,” she says. “It’s so much easier to fabricate a story, take a little ride with a lovely cabbie such as yourself. Take me back to the King Cole Lounge, if you please.”

And brings her angelic face to the partition.

“And, Jimmie, is it? Might you have a card? I suspect I’ll need one more break before dawn.”


jaerose said...

'greasy darkness' indeed..so many worlds exist colliding in the back of a taxi..and it's never as pretty as it seems..glad you drove us there though..Jae

Old Altonian said...

Seamy, and streamy. Who was the 'chick'? Sounds like Veronica Lake - she certainly left one behind!!

Deborah said...

Unexpected and brilliantly written!

Anonymous said...

Thom, this had the feel of a film noir (so Veronica Lake fits - Alan Ladd for the driver?), but the whole peeing thing sent me reeling. A great read - in fact, I read it twice! NYC is obviously doing great things for you... you're getting ever-cooler to read.

Mine is a silly:

Peace, Amy

Fear Not the Darkness but What lies Within said...

Very descriptive and dark. Kind of reminds me of Mickey Spilliane style

VL Sheridan said...

Is she marking her territory? Mad crazy that. Well done.

oldegg said...

Was this vivid in the darkness or not? A beautifully written piece, it certainly took me back to the black and white movies.

trisha said...

well written thom. very crisply written.


earlybird said...

whacky piece. Good. Had to Google Mountain Dew though!

Grandma's Goulash said...

I dub thee King of the Unexpected. What a captivating read and excellent end.

My 3WW: The Inheritance

Kim Nelson said...

Hilarious piece, Thom. you always surprise and please,