THE PIER – PART 1

ON THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF …  THE PIER

THE SPOT

In the shadows behind the pier, you can still make out the very spot. Wooden posts carved with initials, messages and question marks. So many stories swirl around what’s buried in the bay, under layers of mud, one hundred feet below Pier 26.

I know what’s down there.

You see, it didn’t go as planned. As all half-baked schemes generally go. It frayed, FUBAR, at the very end, when it really counts. If only they hadn’t met in that smoky little bar called the Fog Bank.

They say timing is everything and everything happens for a reason. Well, at least that’s what they say.

OUR VIXEN

She… she’s a sexy a little devil. Tough & Sweet. Long Black Hair. Pale Blue Eyes. Ruby Red Lips. A vision if you ever get the chance.

Tonight, Kitten hit her blowing point. Lost her job – caught her man cheating – enough is enough.

Better not show his face! He did. Oh boy! Dishes flying, screams tearing, anger and disdain so thick you could cut it. Followed by silence. SLAM – went the door. His clothes raining outside. Through the wood she warned him.

“Show your face here again and I’ll call the cops!” Meant it. “No – scratch that!” Opened the door. “If you ever come back here again – I’ll fucking shoot you!”

SLAM! This was the last time Kitten was taking this shit and she meant LAST time. Changed the locks. No more – Could’a– Should’a – Would’a’s for this girl. Should have learned from her mistakes the first time. Point Taken.

Leaving the littered clothes, the engine roared, tires peeled onto the street. No sweat off his back; he’s got a little black book like you wouldn’t believe. Bada-Bing. Tomorrow, if he wanted – she’ll take him back – they always do.

Oh boy son, if only she liked routine.

ALONE IN HER APARTMENT

It wasn’t pretty. Managed to destroy two vases, five dishes and his favorite coffee mug. Whatever. It felt awesome, grabbing anything in sight then hurling it towards his head. Each miss a point against her. The last throw slamming the door behind him. AHHHHH!

Kitten took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Fuck cleaning this up – time to take her Baby for a spin. Easing her long black Cadillac out of the garage, nothing felt better than a moonlit drive. Time to let it all go. No idea where in the hell she was going, nor did she care, Kitten headed for the coast. She was Pissed Off. So with the top down her hair swirled in the cool night air. Took a deep breath of crisp salt, pushed the pedal down and rushed towards the open road ahead. After a couple songs Kitten finally felt alive again and oh so free.

They say too much moonlight and salty air can make you crazy, but she didn’t know that. Too bad.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Over the hill the lights from the Fog Bank called to her in the darkness. Broke the spell she was under. A dive tucked away on the coast, a straight shot down The Great Highway from the Cliff House. Rumor has it; it was a speakeasy back in the day. Same crowd frequent it now. So far away in thought, she’d forgotten why she left. Parked, quickly sprang from her seat. Purse in toe, stubbing out the remains of her smoke, took a breath, walked up the stairs, opened the door.

Smelled like a bootleggers paradise. Smoke blinding her momentarily – only the thin, bright, white, tube of light mounted behind the bar broke her dark surroundings. Mirrors, leather, ashtrays and a jukebox. This cat finds a familiar seat at an unknown bar and orders the usual.

Social Distortion was crooning Ring of Fire. With a flirtatious smile the fox working the bar served Kitten a cold one. Kinda cute – this wasn’t a bad idea after all. Should get out more often.

“On the house.” The Fox taped the bar as he walked away. Kitten flashed him a wicked smile. Had a nice ass too. Could sit here all night. Meow.

It didn’t take long for Kitten to obviously and quite desperately flirt hopelessly with the bartender. After all, Fox had a nice ass, and that my friend – was the only constant thought she could maintain.

That is…until he walked in. All tatted up and suave, looked like trouble. She liked trouble.

Sat down – ordered the usual. Fox served him up a beer with a shot. Also on the house. Hiccup, what the hell was going on here? Kitten glanced around…doesn’t anyone pay for drinks? Hiccup.

Trouble looked her way – a smirk across his lips. Cute chick. Returned his stare to the corner of his eyes. Flirt. Quickly, Kitten sat up, polished off her drink and lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag waiting for her wits to settle. They didn’t. Damn! Turned away, out of sight – out of mind – right? Wrong. He was everywhere. Curse! This place was nothing but smoke and mirrors.

Then she heard him. Voice deep like molasses. “Come here often?” Felt his breath behind her. Knees went weak. Briefly – just briefly – she testifies. Turning around slowly to greet him, Kitten found Trouble closer than expected, his thigh brushing her knee. Kitten blushed. With a slick smile, he looked away, rubbed his chin, gave a long stretch – you get the picture.

Bat Bat went her lashes. “No, never been here before…” It was the truth, Kitten spun back around, her arm resting on the bar, cigarette dangling from her polished nails.

Trouble set his arm down and leisurely leaned in to take a deep drag off her cigarette, his lips just brushing her fingers. Kitten watched his reflection in the mirror as he slowly inhaled. Sucking it down as if it were his last one. Cocky.

Slowly he exhaled. “Me too.” Leaned back. Oh really, she thought. Had an answer for everything, didn’t he? Fox placed a beer and a shot in front of her. Gave her a wink.

“It’s for you. Drink up.” Pause. Looked her over. “What – can’t handle it?” Kitten could handle anything. Wanna play? She could play with the best of them. Grabbing one glass in each hand, she took the shot, swigged the beer. Ahhhh.

Chit Chat Chit Chat. Insert witty comment here. Trouble was charming as hell – and playing guitar for a band didn’t hurt either. Knew how to work his women. Big Bad Wolf. Played his cards just right. Kept Kitten off guard. Fox kept the drinks flowing, smokes just wasting away. Felt like hours, flirting, eyes darting, hungry stares. Shared a light, held a glance. Spoke volumes without saying the words. The clock struck. Kitten got to her feet – time to call a cab.

That’s when he up and kissed her. Out of nowhere, gathered her face in his hands and planted one. A good one. A really good one. Could feel her melt away; his lips singed like fire. Worked every time. It’s all in the lips.

Her first reaction – Damn It! Second – oh well, Trouble was her middle name. As they parted he looked deep into her pale blue eyes. A sly little smile crept across his face. Hook, Line & Sinker. Reached for her hand, willingly this cat followed.

Outside now. “This must be your car?” Could have picked her out of a line up. His finger tracing her slick black fender. “This baby is sweet!” He shouted while hopping over the driver-side door. “Lets’ go!”

Kitten got in, buckled up, and held on; she was in the driver’s seat now. Baby purred right up for him. Slammed her into reverse, she quickly obliged. Tall Dark & Handsome. Even Baby was under his spell. Taking the road like a demon, he was swift and accurate with each curve. Kitten simply let go and with one twist of his sculptured arm, Baby made an effortless turn onto an old dirt road hidden by a forest of trees. Veins pumping with excitement. Trouble knew how to find you, even when you weren’t looking. Who’s kidding – Kitten was looking. Jackpot!

Out of the trees, perched above a cliff – the moon just dipping into the water. Trouble killed the engine, lights and turned towards her within a second, that mischievous little smirk across his face again. It didn’t take much from that point. Nature took its course. Nothing can stop millions of years of attraction. Their body language had worked this out all night. Had it bad for each other, real bad – for now at least and nothing could change either of their minds. No sooner had she taken in the situation, did he have her sweater off while she slid onto his lap and that was just fine with the both of them.

Had the top been up and the windows closed, those two would have fogged up that car proper. But instead their bodies moved under the stars with not a soul in sight. When the sun rose the next day they were fast asleep under an itchy wool blanket. Her hair was a compelling mess, his pomp hadn’t moved. Found his jeans, T-shirt and shiny black boots as the sky slowly brightened. It was the sudden cold that broke Kitten from her dreams. Whoa, she really was at the beach… at daybreak… as the distant sound of waves crashing upon the shore registered in her hazy little head.

Bam! Eyes fell upon his chiseled silhouette against the fog. It wasn’t a dream. She tried to hide the grin on her face; had anyone seen it – it would have been a dead giveaway for guilty.

Guilty as Charged.

ON THE BRAIN

 “Hungry?” Trouble threw the question lightly over his shoulder. “Yes.” Emphasized by a heavy sigh while fidgeting with her hair, buttoning up her blouse. “Very.” She added. “Let’s go then.” No sooner had she zipped up her boots that Baby was back on the highway, headed for the city; both mesmerized by this tall, dark and handsome stranger.

Drove in silence as the daylight broke through the fog – much like last night’s memories flashed through their haze. Turning to him slightly, Kitten couldn’t believe what she was remembering. Oh how devious.

“Got a light.” He pierced through her flashback. Dug through her purse – lit two. Passing one to him she caught a glimpse of his chocolate brown eyes. Gorgeous. Kitten relished the moment… Trouble could show up anytime. Anytime in deed.

“So – should we pick up your car?” Had to ask, after all the Fog Bank was remote. Just a rum runner’s memory on the coast. “Or did you just parachute in?” Her laugh was as reckless as she was behaving.

“Yeah… yeah. That’s it.” Wink Wink. Gave her knee a slap, didn’t even miss a beat around a quick little corner. Point – Blank – End of Conversation.

Kitten took a long drag off her smoke. Didn’t know his name and knew better than to ask. It was one hell of a night – enjoyed every second of it. Why bother with boring details. Ruin all those fond new memories – now clearly etched in her brain – something permanent. She’ll just file him under T for Trouble. Good ole’ Trouble… with a capital T and a reinforced good, real good.

Oh boy – if it were only that easy. Be careful what you wish for.

“I know a spot that makes a mean breakfast.” Cigarette dangling off his lip like James Dean. Reached out and placed his hand on her leg. Slide Slide. Gave it a good squeeze. L.O.V.E. inscribed on his knuckles, at least she was on his good side. Quickly pulled down the mirror and gave herself the once-over. Not bad for sleeping in the back seat all night. Sleeping? Who was she kidding! Just a touch of lipstick. Oh how she relished how his hand lingered on her thigh.

The rest of the morning had minimal conversation as she savored her coffee – he devoured his ham & eggs. Picked up the tab, kissed the top of her head and walked to the car – jumped into the driver’s seat as if Baby was his girl. Typical. Bad boys get all the chicks. Lit a smoke and made him wait for his sugar. “Well?” His shoulders shrugged.

“So, your place?” He grinned. Kitten gave a nod, Baby knew the way home. Pulled into her driveway on Elizabeth – her classic Noe Valley Victorian. Lived on the second floor, exclusive garage & garden privileges, sunny porch, with an absent landlord who took up the in-law unit. Perfect for Kitten and her black kitty-cat. Once inside he made himself right at home. Took a gander around.

Hisssss! Apparently Trouble was out of luck. Lucky didn’t like him as he pounced from his spot on the chair; tail wagging in disdain, headed for the kitchen. Didn’t faze Trouble one bit. Humph. “Can’t win ‘em all.” Let out a muffled chuckle. Checked the window, drew the shade a bit more, cleared the mantel – his eyes summing up the room: 2 baseballs – Mick & Mays, bookshelves stocked with plenty of art, oddly no family photos but one vintage record player – with all its extensive accoutrement. Sweet. Didn’t let on, never did. Lit a smoke, found a chair, put his feet up and made himself at home. “Nice place” he stated.

“Thanks” she quipped as she kicked at the broken dishes on the floor. A bit embarrassed, she was clearly a little pissed last night. Last night – now that felt like so long ago. Another life. Against the door was the outline of a smashed vase, flowers and water chaotically strewn about. “Thirsty?” Kitten chirped.

“Always.” Figured poured water instead of wine. Curious if he would generate some normal conversation. It wasn’t that hard right? Kitten broke the silence. “So, what do you do?”

Trouble sat up a bit, though Kitten couldn’t spy his gesture from the kitchen. “Oh a little of this – a little of that – for the family business.” It wasn’t the truth but it wasn’t a lie either. “What about you?”

Kitten let out a smirk while she handed him the glass. “I think I’m a writer, but graphic design pays the bills.” They both gave a little smile, awkward! Trouble sat their rocking. Kitten rubbed her eyes, felt the mascara smudge off.

“I’m gonna freshen up.”

Trouble nodded and slipped his glass.

Craving a shower she headed for the bedroom, rubbing her head, praying for the hangover to pass. Too bad he didn’t. Still sitting in the chair.

Alone now, Trouble kept rocking. Distracted. Trouble had Betty on the brain.

Sunlight was spilling into the room by now, flooding it with brightness. Trouble saw the steam slip out. No need to worry about Betty when a fine distraction was all lathered up. Didn’t take him long to slide in, his arms around her waist, lips caressing her neck. Tattoos, Biceps and a 5 o’clock shadow – he was steaming up her clear thinking. Back at it again. Oh the fun.

Kitten lying sated Trouble broke in. “Listen.” He said, slowing exhaling smoke while wrangling on his jeans. Kitten admired how his muscles wrestled under his skin. “I’ve got a job today, but it won’t take me long.” Drew in a breath and blew three perfect smoke rings. “Meet me at the Fog Bank ‘round midnight.” He turned to her, smoldering dark brown eyes. One pause. “I’d like to see you again.” Why did trouble have to look so good? Speechless for a moment, Kitten let out a wicked smile. “Ok.”

Trouble leaned in, smiled that new familiar smirk, and waited for her to kiss him. Kitten did so obediently. Whipped. Whatever. Opened her eyes to the sound of her keys lifting off the table. Laughed as her front door closed. Mental Note Number #1: Trouble had her Baby.

MEANWHILE ACROSS TOWN

 A plan was being hashed.

“So let me get this straight. You overheard a couple punks talk about this?” Trouble was skeptical to the say the least. Working for the mob since he was a teen, he knew – an easy take – always had strings.

“Yeah, they were shit face drunk bragging about this house, the security detail and the take.” This definitely had his attention. Teddy & Billy were clearly in, salivating as the plan unfolded. “Here, I found this sketch.” Trouble took a look at the crude drawing of map on a tattered napkin.

“Jefferson & Baker – that’s the Marina.” Trouble stood their nodding, taking a look at the faces in the room. His little brother Billy let out a sly smile. We’ve got a scout, watchman, muscle and a driver – just need a decoy.”

Trouble trusted the Kid, even if they were only step brothers. “How much is it worth?”

Billy rubbed what little beard he could grow and grinned. “Insured for 50 million.”

That’s all he had to say.

At the door Trouble paused. “Let’s not tell Sammy Detroit about this one boys. This is our little treat.”

SOMETIMES YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED HOME

At eleven thirty she heard a motorcycle, then two blasts of a horn. What the hell…? That sounded like her Baby. One look out the window confirmed. Baby was home. Parked out front, doors unlocked, keys in the ignition. What’s this? A full tank of gas. Did she get washed too? Sweet. With a wicked smile, the engine cranked and that black Cadillac convertible purred right up.

By the stroke of twelve, Kitten was in her new usual spot, a beer and a shot waiting. Check. He still had a killer ass. Check. Chatted it up. Spoke of old times. Fox was a real ‘Billy, a big bass player, poet, part-time bartender, full-time troublemaker. Had a band, a gang and a crew. An all around good guy and while they took a break to savor a long drag, the door gave a little creak and Trouble entered the building. Didn’t miss a beat. The cold night air oozed in along with the soothing sound of the ocean. Kitten closed her eyes and savored the moment, greeted with a kiss. Boy could he sooth every ache in her body. Bottoms up. A nod of thanks to Fox – eyes back on her.

“My my – you are one tall drink of water.” Crooned. Such a hound dog. Eyes revealing an ulterior motive. “Right on time.” She smirked. “Always kitty cat.” On cue, the jukebox started up, a little Johnny Cash broke up the romance. There was something different about him tonight – couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Tap Tap. Took another shot, drank another beer. Not sure what the night had in store for her.

But Trouble had other plans. “So.” He started. “I have a few loose ends I need to tie up tonight… for my job.” Like a cat he stretched himself out, cracked his neck, gave a flex made sure she was looking. Meow. “Didn’t want to stand you up – didn’t have your number – so I cut out early. But I gotta get back.” Looked away for a second and returned his gaze straight into her eyes. Bang Bang. “Care to join me?” Threw that one across the bar. “Shouldn’t take long.” A moment hadn’t even passed before her lips said “Okay.” Apparently her lips were in control now, being that her mind was his hostage, her legs in on it too – as they just up and walked to the car.

A full moon illuminated Highway 1 all the way back to the city. Not a cloud in the sky, stars trying to sparkle through the city lights; it was a glorious night in San Francisco. Something new brewing, the air full of energy and excitement. Kitten felt it. Trouble too. Destiny in motion. Lives intertwined, permanently changed. Just not how they were expecting. Of course – that is how it goes – life happens when you’re making other plans.

Through the city now, the edge of town was much quieter. Turned off the road onto the pier, cut the lights – slipped Baby into neutral. Through the darkness and fog Baby rolled over the rough salted wood and into the hanger. Only the soft orange glow off their smokes could be seen that night. If questioned, it was curious how nobody saw them come or go. Nobody. It’s the kind of missing clue that keeps even the best detectives up all night. Kitten always liked a good suspense thriller.

Quickly Baby stopped, Trouble parked, his door closed. “Take over, will ya?” Kitten slid back into control. “Listen, just sit here and wait for me. Okay?” Didn’t wait for an answer. “Stay in the car. I’ll be over there.” Pointed into the distance, through the giant doorway towards a streetlight at the back of the pier. “Our guest list includes one black Lincoln and bike. That’s it. You see anybody not on the guest list – you flash your lights twice.” Trouble kept looking over his shoulder. Fog kept creeping over the Bay. The tide kept a methodical rhythm. All was calm in the world. Except for Trouble. “I’ll be back in a sec.” Man, those were a lot of directions for a whole lot of nothing. Should have brought a notebook.

“Here.” Trouble reached his hand into his pocket, hesitating for a moment before reaching into the shadows. “Take this.” As his fingers slowly released the cold heavy weight of a … “Be a ‘Johnny on the spot’ with this gun – okay?” There was a long pause. “You’ll know if you need to use it…go with your gut.”

Popped it. Spun it. Flicked it shut. Set big Johnny beside her. The gravity of the situation truly setting in. “Okay, there are only five of us including you.” Ran down his orders, checked his wristwatch, leaned in and gave her one more kiss. “Sugar, you’re so sweet, so sweet.” When she opened her eyes again he was standing out on the dimly lit pier, smoke and mystery surrounding him. Looks like she’ll be spending some quality time with Johnny tonight.

Headlights cut through the darkness and played with the shadows. A long Lincoln pulled up and a tall lanky figure emerged. Trouble greeted him with a halfhearted attempt to wreck his perfectly coiffed pomp. Swiftly blocked, one extra jab for good measure; the boys wrasslled like kid brothers, only now with smoldering cigarettes. From the other side of the car materialized a huge beast of a man, rugged and fierce with the face of a teddy bear. With a heavy slap on the back he greeted Trouble. Two down, one to go. No crashers tonight. Not on her watch. She chuckled, Johnny resting delicately on her lap now. Suddenly the sounds of the pier were interrupted by a thunder of motorcycles ripping down the street. As their terror vanished into a soft murmur, a lone biker rolled up. In the shadows it was hard to recognize him although his sex appeal should be his giveaway. Gulls, foghorn, the water passing under the bridge …check, the last crewmember had arrived…check, that fox and his sweet ass…check.

In a circle these boys looked chummy, approachable. But deposit that very formation on a foggy pier one starless night and your heart would feel a twinge of trepidation. Hers did – but Johnny’s didn’t. Solid. Cold, hardcore types never twinge… ever.

Chain-smoking slowly – cautiously keeping track of her surroundings – in the distance a car rumbled by. The Crew froze, each with an ear to the wind. Coast Clear. Kid pulled out a comb, did a quick fix. Teddy took a hefty swig off his flask. Fox gave a laugh. Trouble kept an eye on Baby. Rundown once. Rundown twice. Each guy maintaining the status quo. Cool, Calm & Collected. Ditto for her. Snub, Step, Flick, and one last drag then…Break! Looks like Trouble was heading her way.

Trouble slid into co-pilot position. “Follow the bike.” Gladly. Tucked the gun under her leg; so cold against her skin. Lit two, handed her one, dropped his arm out the window. The weather was the usual, brisk; the salty night air filled her lungs with adventure. Fox cut through the city towards the Marina, somewhere on Baker Trouble chimed in. “Park.” Roger that. Baby slid into position, killed the engine, lights off. The Palace of Fine Arts out her window. Twinge, her heart skipped a beat. “Stay here and wait for the signal.” Took a long drag and turned to her. “The Lincoln will drive past you and flash its lights twice.” With a smile he stared at her. Couldn’t believe his luck. Caught a glimpse of the gun and her thigh. He fought the urge to detour from this evening’s original plan. “Two flashes – that’s your signal to start driving, leisurely down this street.” His heavily adorned hand pointing ahead of them. In the distance a foghorn warns oncoming ships of the Barbary Coast. But no one warned her. “I’ll find you. Pick me up. Okay?” Trouble looked around for any of his own kind. “Anyone creeps up on you.” Stared her straight in the eye. Serious. “Ask questions later.” Said it slowly for effect. Roger. 10-4. Check. Got it. This was getting more and more complicated. She’d kill for the Cliff Notes on this saga. “And lastly…” Trouble whispered, as he slid one hand behind her neck and the other around her waist. “A kiss for good luck.” He took her breath away with that one. When she came too he was already walking across the street disappearing into the night just as quick as he arrived. Too late for questions now.

An hour or so later Kitten heard a ruckus tearing down the street. Breaking the soothing sound of wind rustling through the trees. The Lincoln flew by. One. Two. Pause. One. Two. The signal flashed desperately. Baby purred up and then turned into the street, rolling slowly, wondering what all the rush was about. One block, two block, three. What the hell? Where was he? Not a soul on the road she turned on a dime. One, two, three. Nada. Something wasn’t right. Where’s Trouble when you need him? Before she could register the sound, a screeching black van peeled up beside her, like a bat out of hell, lights off, just barely hitting her Baby. Brandishing guns, two men returned her stare. Without a moment’s hesitation she slid her hand to the cold hard steel of her new best friend. Johnny, don’t fail me now.

Ask questions later. Reverberated in her head. “What the hell?!” More of a statement, less of a question. Johnny’s cold steal did all the hard-core persuading. The punk behind the wheel didn’t belong to her crew. And by the look in his eye – he confirmed – she didn’t either.

Kitten fired. Glass glittered. Without sticking around for the party – the van sped off into the night. Alone on the dark street again she slipped Johnny into her boot, lit a smoke and kept driving, her nerves not as riled up as she expected them to be. But she did have a moment of clarity – how in the hell did she end up here? No time to reconsider her choices, we’ll leave that for later.

For now, she had one thing on her mind – sure hoped Trouble would find her now. When suddenly, to her surprise, two lights appeared in the rear view.

Headlights and that familiar red, white and blue. Reluctantly Kitten pulled over.

TO BE CONTINUED… Part 2

Thank you so much for reading.  I would love to know your thoughts, favorite quotes, or surprises you enjoyed – please share!

Happy Tales! xox Pulp Paige

My name is Paige Turner and I write Pulp

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