I couldn't understand how she could have married a snark like Maurice. She was not only twenty years younger than he was but she was vibrant and, I thought, passionate. I could see no possibility of him satisfying a woman like that.
Jessica hung out with the guys at the Ha Ra after work before going home or heading out to dance. She was just one of the boys and, although Maurice didn't drink and never joined her, nobody was about to make passes at the boss's wife. Except for Gill who made passes at all women and, well, me.
I tried to be quiet about it. When no one else was looking I might tell her that I loved her smile or her blue eyes. But, whenever I did so, she froze me out and snubbed me the next day. But, the day after that she'd not only be friendly but flirtatious ... or was it in my mind? If I flirted back, she'd turn cold.
I finally asked her out. She suggested that we meet for drinks and dancing. Clearly a date. However, she not only showed up with Gill but an entourage and she made eye passes at every guy in the place.
A few days later, the taxi dispatcher told me to pick up an order at 144 Athens. This was highly unusual. Normally all radio calls go out on a bid.
"They asked for you," the dispatcher told me when I questioned him. "If you don't want the order let me know - I'll get it myself."
Strange comment. Satyric tone of voice. Now I was intrigued.
"I'll take it - why not?"
144 Athens was a tiny cottage set back from the street behind a picket fence and couple of dwarf palm trees.
Jessica answered the door wearing only a terrycloth bathrobe.
"All women confuse me," I told her, "but you're in a class by yourself."
"Do you find this confusing?" she asked as she opened her robe.
"No," I told her as I walked over and finished removing it.
She put an arm around my waist and led me into a bedroom with a panoramic view of downtown San Francisco and the Bay Bridge. The bed took up half the room.
Afterwards I asked her, "Was that some sort of game were you playing at the nightclub?"
"I was punishing you," she said with a devilish giggle. "How dare you ask me out! I'm a married woman. What do you think I am?"
There was certain bend to her logic but I thought it best not to comment.
We saw each other two or three times a week after that - always at the cabin. We couldn't safely go out because every cab driver in the city knew both of us. We'd just watch movies, eat take out ... and fuck.
In between we'd talk about our childhoods. Her Amazon adventures, my trips on the lakes of Minnesota. She was a great listener. I talked for hours at a time about canoeing on the headwaters of the Mississippi.
Maurice didn't know about 144 Athens. Like most owners of cab companies, he took a percentage of the tips that the dispatchers extorted from his drivers. Unlike most of them, he took 20% instead of the usual ten. His mistake was in letting Jessica count the money. She saved enough to buy the cottage in less than three years.
I didn't think too much about where the affair was leading. I was only making $500 a week. I didn't see how I could ask her to leave Maurice's millions on that kind of salary. We did plan a few trips: one to Mendocino and another to Yucatan but something always came up before we could leave.
She went back home to Brazil for a month and then I went to spend the Christmas holidays in St. Paul. When I came back I had trouble getting hold of her. I saw her at work but she wasn't returning my calls.
I tracked her down at the Ha Ra. She was sitting at the bar talking and laughing with the bartender.
"Haven't seen you for awhile," she said when I went over and sat next to her.
"I went home," I said puzzled, "don't you remember?"
"Oh yeah," she said brightly, "Iowa."
A few night later, I was driving my taxi when the dispatcher told Cab #268 to pick up at 144 Athens.
Who the fuck is 268?
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