Read Online Miami Blues by Charles Willeford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charles Willeford
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six-story parking garage. Susan showed her parking pass to the attendant behind the bulletproof window. He took her keys from the board, raised the grate an inch, and slid them across the Formica countertop.
"I pay eighty dollars a month to park here. And that's the student rate. Some of these downtown lots charge three dollars an hour, and they make so much money they won't give you a monthly rate." They took the elevator to the fifth floor. "But they're nasty about it here. If I don't get here early enough in the morning to get a space, the garage fills up and they put out a full sign. So even though I've paid in advance, I still can't park. It isn't fair."
"You use that word a lot."
"What word?"
"_Fair_. Now that you're twenty years old--"
"Only by one month--"
"--you'd better forget about things like _fair_ and _unfair_. Even when people talk about the weather, _fair_ doesn't mean anything."
"But there's such a thing as--"
"No, there isn't. Jesus, is this your car?"
Susan unlocked the driver's door to a white 1982 TransAm. There was a flaming red bird decal on the hood and flowing red flames painted on all four of the fenders.
"It's mine now, if they don't take it away from me. It was the first thing we bought when we had enough saved for the down payment. Marty was crazy about it. But he only got to drive it two or three times. What he wanted was a car that would impress his friends when we went back to Okeechobee. That's why I'm pretty sure he never told daddy about the car. He wanted to surprise everybody. These are real leather seats, you know. Black glove leather. D'you want to drive, Junior?"
"No. I can drive, but I'm not a very good driver. And even though I've got three California licenses on me, I don't fit the descriptions. Besides, you'd have to tell me where to turn and all."
Freddy got into the passenger's soft bucket seat. He felt as though he were sitting in a deep pit, even though the visibility was excellent through the tinted front window. The side and back windows had been layered with chocolate film; they were almost black.
Susan started the engine. "I'll turn the air conditioning down in just a second. It'll really freeze your ass off if you leave it on high very long."
"Do you need gas? I've got Ramon Mendez's Seventy-six card."
"This thing always needs gas. It only gets about nine miles to a gallon. Something's wrong with the carburetor, I think."
"Well, don't worry about gas. I can get all of the gas credit cards we'll need."
Susan roared down the spiraling driveway and into the street. She drove through the streets aggressively, taking the Eighth Street ramp to the overhead freeway to South Dixie. But once on South Dixie, in three lanes, the traffic was heavy, and it was stop-and-go driving until they reached South Miami and Sunset Drive. The heavy traffic thinned out slightly when she turned west on Sunset.
"People can't see in at all, can they?" Freddy said.
"Not very well. To see inside you have to put your face right up against the glass."
"I haven't seen much of the city, either."
"You can't see much at night. I'll take you around tomorrow, anywhere you want to go."
They had the car filled at a Shell station. Freddy paid for the gas with Gotlieb's credit card. As the attendant wrote down the license number on the sales slip, Freddy shook his head. "I forgot they did that. Tomorrow we're going to either get some new license plates or a new car. We should've stopped along the way so I could've picked up some new license plates. I could've changed them before we got the gas."
Susan opened the door, jumped out, and dashed after the attendant. She got the credit slip back, and paid the man cash for the fuel. She got back into the driver's seat and tore up the credit slip.
"I'll probably lose the car, but we might as well keep it as long as we can."
"That was quick thinking, Susie. I'm so used to using credit cards, I never thought about paying cash."
"I always pay cash.
"I pay eighty dollars a month to park here. And that's the student rate. Some of these downtown lots charge three dollars an hour, and they make so much money they won't give you a monthly rate." They took the elevator to the fifth floor. "But they're nasty about it here. If I don't get here early enough in the morning to get a space, the garage fills up and they put out a full sign. So even though I've paid in advance, I still can't park. It isn't fair."
"You use that word a lot."
"What word?"
"_Fair_. Now that you're twenty years old--"
"Only by one month--"
"--you'd better forget about things like _fair_ and _unfair_. Even when people talk about the weather, _fair_ doesn't mean anything."
"But there's such a thing as--"
"No, there isn't. Jesus, is this your car?"
Susan unlocked the driver's door to a white 1982 TransAm. There was a flaming red bird decal on the hood and flowing red flames painted on all four of the fenders.
"It's mine now, if they don't take it away from me. It was the first thing we bought when we had enough saved for the down payment. Marty was crazy about it. But he only got to drive it two or three times. What he wanted was a car that would impress his friends when we went back to Okeechobee. That's why I'm pretty sure he never told daddy about the car. He wanted to surprise everybody. These are real leather seats, you know. Black glove leather. D'you want to drive, Junior?"
"No. I can drive, but I'm not a very good driver. And even though I've got three California licenses on me, I don't fit the descriptions. Besides, you'd have to tell me where to turn and all."
Freddy got into the passenger's soft bucket seat. He felt as though he were sitting in a deep pit, even though the visibility was excellent through the tinted front window. The side and back windows had been layered with chocolate film; they were almost black.
Susan started the engine. "I'll turn the air conditioning down in just a second. It'll really freeze your ass off if you leave it on high very long."
"Do you need gas? I've got Ramon Mendez's Seventy-six card."
"This thing always needs gas. It only gets about nine miles to a gallon. Something's wrong with the carburetor, I think."
"Well, don't worry about gas. I can get all of the gas credit cards we'll need."
Susan roared down the spiraling driveway and into the street. She drove through the streets aggressively, taking the Eighth Street ramp to the overhead freeway to South Dixie. But once on South Dixie, in three lanes, the traffic was heavy, and it was stop-and-go driving until they reached South Miami and Sunset Drive. The heavy traffic thinned out slightly when she turned west on Sunset.
"People can't see in at all, can they?" Freddy said.
"Not very well. To see inside you have to put your face right up against the glass."
"I haven't seen much of the city, either."
"You can't see much at night. I'll take you around tomorrow, anywhere you want to go."
They had the car filled at a Shell station. Freddy paid for the gas with Gotlieb's credit card. As the attendant wrote down the license number on the sales slip, Freddy shook his head. "I forgot they did that. Tomorrow we're going to either get some new license plates or a new car. We should've stopped along the way so I could've picked up some new license plates. I could've changed them before we got the gas."
Susan opened the door, jumped out, and dashed after the attendant. She got the credit slip back, and paid the man cash for the fuel. She got back into the driver's seat and tore up the credit slip.
"I'll probably lose the car, but we might as well keep it as long as we can."
"That was quick thinking, Susie. I'm so used to using credit cards, I never thought about paying cash."
"I always pay cash.
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