a rock 'n' roll club, a bar known for fancy drinks, a gay discotheque and a gay bar frequented by men in black leather.
I smiled sardonically as the cab came to a stop in front of the motel. All calls are good calls, but apparently, some are better than others. I reached over and gently roused the passenger.
"Where?" the man said.
"Your motel."
The man looked up, looked outside toward the motel's entrance and looked at me, his expression disoriented.
"That is ten fifty."
The man fumbled through his pockets, front, back, hip, breast, chest until he found his wallet. He finally handed me a ten and a five. "Keef the change and gimme a receipt," the businessman said. With surprising aplomb, he took the receipt, opened the door and climbed out of the cab.
He was about to close the door when he reached toward the wound on his throat, rubbing it with his fingers. "Jeshus Chrisht! Wha the hell!?"
I smiled sheepishly.
"Ya got some pretty big fuckin' mosceetoes around here."
"With all the rain we have been having," I replied, "they have been growing to the size of small dogs. They have been known to fly off with young children."
The man stared incredulously at me for a moment, then shut the door and stumbled off.
I tucked the bills into my shirt pocket, watched the man enter the building, then proceeded to my next call.
Apparently, all callsare good calls.
****
Nicole's face fascinated me. She never seemed to mind my staring at her, though she would shake her head, this embarrassed expression on her face, but how could I not stare? Those dark, almond eyes. Those long, shiny, raven tresses. Those long, graceful jaw bones that came together at her chin to form her lovely angular face. All those womanly curves, unlike these other American women who looked as though they never ate. Looking at Nicole was almost like looking at a woman from the old country, and as good fortune had allowed, at shift's end, Kern had vacated the seat directly across from where Nicole sat struggling with her paperwork. Apparently, she had too many charge slips for a spring night. Ah, but it was a Tuesday night, the one night we both worked. As soon as we both completed our paperwork, we could enjoy each other's company for the few hours before sunrise.
"How was your night, Count?" Kern said, interrupting my meditation.
"Adequate," I replied.
Nicole looked up from her paperwork and smiled warmly at me. She held up a fistful of charge slips. "U-Ride hell for me."
Kern snorted loudly. "Too much trouble, not enough tips. Dealing with the university is like dealing with the fucking devil."
Truck burst into the driver's room and slammed his seat-pad along with the rest of his cab-driving paraphernalia loudly on one of the table tops. His clipboard clattered on the floor, where he let it lay.
About to leave, Kern had been holding his cushion, clipboard and a book under his arm. He put his materials on a table, reached for a cigarette and lit it.
"How was yournight, Truck?" Kern perched himself atop the table and took a deep drag from his Marlboro.
"U-Ride hell," Truck replied. "U-Ride hell, pure and simple." This burly bear of a man paused, obviously noting that everyone in the room was staring at him in rapt attention.
"I tell you, it's bad enough we have to give those damn university brats free cab rides to hell and back - "
"The programis projected to gross almost a half-million dollars of annual revenue," I interrupted.
"Yeah," Truck countered, "but out of forty rides tonight, why did I have to run ten of them? And not a goddamn tip from any of 'em."
"Gotta play the airport more," Kern interjected.
Truck paused again. He took off his horn-rimmed glasses, rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard. "But you know what? I got to throw one of those little fuckers out of my cab tonight."
"No way."
"Is that so?"
"Way to go."
"Yeah. Bastard gets in the cab, him and some girl. Man, she was fucked up. All glassy-eyed. I ask for his student ID, he says, 'Just drive.' I tell the peckerwood frat boy he's gotta show me his student ID because the university says so. He says, 'Fuck you.' Well, then I tell him he's gotta change his attitude right now. He says, 'This is U-Ride. You have to take me. You're just a fucking cab driver.' So, I get out of the cab, go to his side, open