The evening's commerce eventually settled into a mildly lucrative rhythm, providing a tolerably balanced mixture of satisfaction and confusion. All in all, the shift proved uneventful, the meter totaling $74.00, with another $15.00 in tips. No millionaire gave me a hundred-dollar bill for a five-dollar fare and said keep the change; however, no one saw fit to vomit in my cab.
As Kern had suggested, I did work at my own pace, running a call, then proceeding to the nearest cab stand to be optimally prepared to receive the next assignment. After all, if, as Kern had said, time is money and a vampire has nothing but time, then would I not be a rich man indeed?
Perhaps, not today or tomorrow, but my situation allowed for a high degree of patience, thanks to the fact that my rent and auto insurance for the next year had been paid in advance. Heat and electricity bills would still come due every month, but surely the figures would be nominal. Food, of course, was free and, as observed thus far, plentiful. As the Americans say, most of my earnings this first year would be gravy.
Such was my evaluation of this maiden voyage on the good ship Co-op Cab as this first shift neared conclusion. And then the opportunity to run one more call presented itself, thus ending the shift on a positive note.
"Fifty," Dexter said, "get the Irish Pub at three-seventeen State, just east of Gorham. That's the old Merlyn's. For Sheena, the bartender. Comes east toward your office."
"Ten-four," I replied. Dexter had quickly gotten accustomed to my lack of geographic proclivity, but was nothing less than cooperative and helpful, freely giving instructions, thus allowing me to more easily unearth the locations of all the bars where he had dispatched calls. Motherless spawn of Satan! How many bars were there in this city?
Again, his instructions proved useful, allowing the greatest ease seeking my quarry, and Sheena was watching through the front window, keys in hand, immediately able to secure the bar as soon as I pulled up.
"Eight-sixteen Spaight," she said, adding, "please."
"Right away. Do you have a favorite route?"
"Sure. Just turn here on Johnson. Take it to Patterson, turn right and take it right to Spaight." Her soft contralto seemed to smile. Lilac perfume tickled my nose, but underneath that artificial scent lay the true richness of her flesh. I opened my nostrils, letting her bouquet wash over my inner being. Deep inside me, something stirred, something to subdue because yes, there was a purpose here - to make money.
"I trust you have had a nice evening?" I asked.
"Yeah. Busy as hell. I'm beat. Can't wait to crawl into bed. I feel like I just wanna sleep forever."
"I understand. It has been an interesting night for me as well."
"Were you guys busy?"
"To tell the truth, I am not certain. This was my first night driving a taxi."
"Ohhh. How'd it go?"
"Not too badly. I am new to this town and do not have the easiest time finding where my calls are, but I am not entirely displeased."
Sheena laughed lightly, like soft rain. "I've thought about driving cab. Sometimes, when I'm getting real sick of bartending, I think about it. One advantage I could see is while you might have an asshole in your cab for only five or ten minutes, I might have that asshole in my bar the whole damn night."
I laughed. "Do you see any sort of similarity between these two vocations?"
"A bit. You guys help us out a lot. When someone's been getting in our hair, we can just call a cab, and you make 'em disappear." She snapped her fingers. "Like, poof! Gone. And a lotta bartenders take cabs a lot. I mean, I have a car, but I don't feel like driving after hustling drinks for eight hours. Besides, I feel a lot safer having you come right to the door. I'd just as soon not walk in the dark to where my car is parked."