Boating; More about Rita
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One day he took the
dinghy to shore, stranding her on the boat, or so he thought. Rita
was through with him. She packed her sea bags with clean clothes
mixed with her dirty laundry and hailed the passing water taxi. It
dropped her off on the grocery store/alley dock. She shoved two loads
in the washer and put in the last of her coin stash, then called a
land taxi that took her to a bank. She withdrew several hundreds of
dollars from her dwindling account and walked back to the alley. She
sat at a table near the laundry with several cruising 'wives' and was
'hit on' several times by low life customers.
“Not on your fucking
life would I consent to having a fucking beer with you,” she told
one gruesome looking individual. She had been around enough to know
that she had to make her reputation right away. She went back to a
two day old newspaper's classified section looking for a job.
The only bright spot in
her life at that moment was her eclectic surroundings. Rita liked the
‘alley’ the first time she walked through the door and the people
took to her. In her sun-dress it was easy to see that she had a
decent figure, opulent breasts and she favored tattoos that were
easily covered over with professional dress. Rita was twenty pounds
overweight which the Englishman's fancied and she vowed to give up
the thick beer he preferred.
When her last load was in
the dryer the place filled with journeymen workers. They came for
happy hour and liked the shot and beer specials. They paid little
attention to the rest of the patrons. They were a little loud but
most spent at least ten dollars and they had energy left after a hard
days work. They played the juke box and Rita liked that, too. She was
expecting company and the music took her mind off the inevitable
confrontation.
Sam Jones was his name on
his passport but he called himself Randolph to the gentry’s class.
He drove his dinghy back to the boat and discovered Rita and he belongings missing. He was
drunk as was his fashion in the late afternoon and he was angry. One
of his neighbors told him she shared the water taxi with Rita earlier in the day.
He supposed she was doing laundry at O'Malley's.
When the Englishman came
through the door Rita was finishing her third Rum and Coke. She had a
little buzz on but was well behind Sam. She was alone at the table
and motioned him to sit down despite his motioning her to come with
him. “I'll buy you a drink and tell you a story, Luv,” Rita
mimicked a Cockney accent.
“What the fuck are ya'
doin' here,” he slurred.
“Washing everything I
own. I'm moving ashore, luv' and I'm through with you. Have a drink
and let's part friends, okay?”
“You're getting' back
on the fuckin' boat with me,” Sam said and then he slapped her
across her face. Rita knew the drill so she kicked hard against the
chair and went over backwards.
Sam
circled the table and pulled her half way to her feet but he stopped
suddenly. Rita looked up and saw a man with a huge beard had a hold
of Sam's right arm. The bearded man only shook his head at Sam before
reaching down with his other hand. He pulled Rita off the floor.
Rita knew a good thing
when she saw it and shouted at Sam, “I'm not going back to the boat
with you now or ever!”
The bearded man nodded
and propelled Sam towards the door with such ease that Rita thought
he might be airborne. He went through the doors and out of her life.
The bearded man tipped a beret like hat and went back to the bar.
“Are you alright,
honey,” asked a cruising wife at a table near her. “Much better
now,” Rita replied as she gave herself a moment to collect her
wits. “If you'll excuse me I have to buy someone a beer.”
When Rita reached the bar
the stranger was gone. She looked out the door and saw him and two
others climb into a pick-up truck with ladders on the top. A sense of
sadness came over her as her white knight rode away.
She was very pleased that
her instinct had been right about the Alley. The same exact scene had
played out in an upscale waterfront bar in Venice, Florida but no one
came to her aid. The thought of Sam being propelled towards the door
buoyed her spirits and the next Rum and Coke tasted like fine
champagne. Her instincts also told her that she would see her white
knight again.
This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com
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