Waiting for Scraps
The tall, buxome, blonde with bright red lipstick tottered across the wharf planks gingerly in her stilletos . The warf was deserted at this pre-dawn hour. All she could see was a ring of feral cats sitting at the end of the pier watching, out to sea.
It had been a crazy few weeks for her in the honky tonk saloon where she worked, sometimes behind the bar, and sometimes, filling in for the exotic dancer. Lately, a new customer had been coming in every other night and left her a large tip each time. The last time he had included a message scribbled on a coaster. Meet me at dawn on Pier 41, Wednesday morning, at the slip for "Ocean Dreamer." There is something I must ask you.
She had been mystified and overcome with curiosity. What could she possibly do for him. She knew he was attracted to her as she had seen him give her more than a few dark, longing looks across the smoke-filled bar room.
She stood looking out toward the channel where the boats chugged in, to the pier. A few lonely seagulls were squabbling over the guide poles for a vantage spot to feed on the entrails the fishemen would throw for them. The cats were daintily licking their paws in anticipation for the generous share they were always given. The lonely blonde pulled out her compact and seductively applied a fresh coat to her bright red lips and wondered again what she was waiting for.
It had been quite still but a stiff breeze sprang up from the ocean as sunlight waiting to rise, tipped the horizon. She leaned on a rail and balanced on one foot while she released the other from the punishing confinement of its shoe. She wiggled her stockinged toes and then repeated the process with the other foot. As she slid that foot back into place, a voice close to her startled her. With the wind blowing she had not heard footsteps approaching her from behind.
It was the Agent for the "Ocean Dreamer," the big game fishing boat that she was waiting for, as she shivered in the cool wind. He asked her, "Are you waiting for some one?" Suddenly self conscious she glanced away, nodding. She gave a small vulnerable shrug. "You can come inside out of the wind, if you like," he offered her, as he opened up the small Charter Office. She sank thankfully into a small couch in the waiting area, while he fiddled with various tasks in readiness for the boat's return. "It's quite an important guy who chartered the boat last night, he said. He is an American and seems loaded. Some one told me he's looking for a wife. She paid attention to the last part of his gossip wondering if it was any way possible he was considering her.
She hadn't always worked in a bar. Recently she had been involved with a rich lawyer - not married but living together. Whenever she had broached the subject of marriage he always begged off, "Too busy right now!" There were compensations. She led the high life of ladies lunches, tennis, fancy parties and that little, silver, Mercedes convertible was a nice touch. But he was a real ladies man and the inevitable happened. She walked in on him at a party, in an upstairs room where she had seen him disappearing with another woman. They weren't even aware she had entered the room. She left the party and his life all in the same night and caught a train to the coast to stay with an old school friend.
That was the trouble with men like him she thought. After a while they think they own you, or that you owe them something. She gazed off into the distance as a boat appeared on the horizon. The gulls all swooped in anticipation. The cats all moved closer to the gangway and she - rose quietly from the small couch, winked and smiled at the Agent and said, "Don't say you saw me here this morning." She walked jauntily away with her high heels tucked under her arm. Away from the incoming boat. Away from the 'interesting proposition she didn't want to hear again, and as she felt the change descend on her she was already planning her next move. She could answer that Ad for the travelling companion, to accompany an elderly widow to Europe on a cruiseship....... mmm she wondered, should I dress more conservativly for that interview. Behind her she could hear the commotion of gulls fighting for scraps, but she never looked back.
© Suzanne Delaney
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