| dewy decimal |
2004-03-31 - 4:10 a.m.
So I'm just walking down Aala Street, my eyes in the sky, thinking how happy I am that I got that second job at Diesel. I saunter beneath a low row of trees as the sun passes through the leaves and lavender flower. I stop at an intersection and from across the street, I can see three prostitutes leaning casually on my parked car. It�s about half past three in the afternoon. Cars are backed up behind a red light and the prostitute closest to me is cooing at someone in a white truck.
I cross the street and stop maybe three feet away from my car; my lips are pursed as I wait for their reaction to my being there.
Finally, the one in the middle whose ass is smashed against the backseat mirror notices me. She adjusts her rising halter and says, �Yes?� The other two quickly turn around and I can see now that at least two of them are transgendered.
�Sorry, I have to leave now,� I mutter.
And without making the connection that it was my car that they were using as a park bench, the middle one in the halter tosses her head briskly as if to move some hair had fallen in her face, �Where you like go?�
�Uh, home,� I can barely look her in the eyes.
She maneuvers her huge, squishy boobs into a more comfortable position and looks at the girl on the left of her, asks her for a cigarette. The one on the left I�ve seen before whom I often call �the sickly terror,� because she's always super thin and delerious. She is wearing a new nutmeg wig that I�ve never seen her in before. She digs a soft pack of Kools out of her polyurethane purse.
�Do you have an extra cigarette?� I ask.
�Quarter,� goes Sickly as she lights Boobs cigarette. I dig up a quarter and toss it across the roof of my car where the one who was cooing earlier has her arms folded. Sickly throws me a cigarette and a book of matches. I haven�t smoked since New Year�s Eve before my resolution, its April, but I guess today seems as good a day as any to start up again. Each puff is strong and the menthol cools the sharp hit of smoke that invades my respiratory system.
�My name is Dustin,� I offer.
�So where we going Justin?� says Cooer. �I mean where your home stay?�
�Aiea. I�m going to Aiea.� I say as something catches my eye. �Hey, that�s a nice brooch,� I say, pointing to a gold brooch shaped like an airplane with green enamel and red stones pinned on her lycra sports bra. Her outfit is horrible and says second-rate fellatio all over it, but I�m being sincere when I say it�s a nice brooch, dare I say beautiful. She goes on to tell me that it�s from her boyfriend who got it for her two days ago in a bet. She says she has hundreds. The other two girls are smoking and looking around at the procession of early traffic that can�t help but look back at them.
�I gotta go. Thank you for the smoke. Cough cough,� as I unlock the door.
�Shoots then,� says Boobs. The three of them back off and lean against the moss rock wall and chain link fence that encloses a parking lot.
�Bye,� I shut my door and turn the key but the engine doesn�t start. I turn again. Again, nothing. Then I realize that my lights had been on the whole time I was at work. I don�t know why but for some reason, at least once every three months I will for no apparent reason turn on my headlights in the midst of day without even knowing it, returning to my car to find that the battery is as dead as bones.
I get out the car and slam the door and I�m like, Shit. Fuck. Etc. and the Sickly goes, �What, your battery is dead?�
�Yups.�
�We get one extra battery in my car if you like buy em for 5 bucks,� Sickly says as she lights another cigarette.
�Neva fit my car that�s why. Just like new, the thing. We go change em for you too.�
Yes, I�m skeptical but what�s five dollars? The battery in my car is plenty old too. I scratch my head and sigh, �Sure.�
I�m telling you now, I have never seen anyone, not even a professional, change a battery as fast as these three. It's like watching a production line where every player has their part. The efficiency is clinical. Not a word exchanged. Just three prostitutes of dubious gender cooperating mechanically with a cigarette bolstered in each of their mouths.
�All pau,� goes Cooer. I give them the five dollars and get in my car. I turn the key and a purr unravels like a sigh, long and relieved.
My windows are rolled down and I yell to the three out of the passenger window, �Thanks you guys!� and I turn on the radio when I see something fly onto the passenger seat through the window. A cigarette!
�For da drive home to Aiea, Braddah Dustin,� says Boobs.
Cooer�s brooch twinkles in a screen of smoke as I drive away.