Three of Wands

By The Shore—MORNING

I awake still sleepy and stiff to the sounds of the Sunday morning crowd, mostly comprised of a group of boy scouts. I did not sleep well, but had dreams of the Boss watching me sleep.

“See?” she keeps saying in my dreams, “What a terrible researcher you are!” But I cannot wake up to face her for fear it is not just a dream.

Eventually, I  sit up, quickly grab my things and shuffle off with nowhere in particular to go. I don’t head back towards the rooming house but opposite to the public area where I might freshen up or at least stick my head under a shower. The Waitress, still in uniform, is there in a parking lot.

“Frank, there you are!” she beams as if waiting for me. “Listen. The plan is to go out to the island on Saturday to check things out. From the city to the island shouldn’t be any longer a trip than any other, I figure. One of the girls has gotten her sports car stuck, though.”

I shrug with no idea what she is talking about, and the Waitress shuffles after a nearby group of scared teen girls that scoot away as she accosts them about the stuck car.

“Which one of you did it? Come on, dammit! Admit it!”

This hurts my head, “Forget it! It doesn’t matter who did what!” I call after as the yelling fades in the distance. I look around the lot and then, advance on a little red car flanked by police cruisers. This is no doubt the stuck car, having died before finding a parking space, blocking the through traffic.

The girls return and crowd me, one announcing, “The cops have blocked the car in!” which is patently obvious.

“Damn cops. Give me the keys.” I hold out my hand and one girl drops some keys in it. I get inside. The cops do not offer assistance.

“Push at my direction. All of you girls, together.” 

Standard. I try to put it into gear, but when I hit the pedal, I find there is a large half-empty bottle of brown colored booze and a pack of ground meat hidden down on the floorboards blocking the pedal. I wonder to myself which girl is sneaking out for a nip and a burger at night? But then again, who am I to point fingers?

I pull the contraband out and hand it to the Waitress. Now back in the seat, I am barely able to see over the steering wheel in the low bucket seat. But I am still able to get the car into gear.

“Push, girls.”

I put it into neutral and pull the wheel hard to the left. With all the girls pushing, the car just inches past the huge police cruiser in front of it. Then, with the slight slope of the lot down to the beach, I am able to coast the car downhill and into a parking space.