1 Shore Excursion Read Free

at Kim’s bodega near my apartment for a few fantastically priced toiletries and a hot pastrami on rye with brown mustard and a Kosher pickle .
    Why a Vietnamese man can make the best pastrami sandwich in all Manhattan is beyond me. I only knew that, having worked through lunch , and after turning down Charlie Wu ’s offer , I was totally ready for the pastrami . A nd for the cold, creamy cheesecake that I bought to top it off.
    “You eat all this, you get s o ooo fat! ” he jeered, staring at my rear. “Hahahaha! ”
    Kim thinks he is a real funny guy . He loves to make remarks about my appetite and my shape. But f or the sake of his food, I’ll put up with his mouth.
    In reward for his humor, I paid with plastic. Kim hates that, because not only does he have to pay the card people a fee, he also has to report the transaction to his newly-adopted Uncle Sam instead of slipping the cash in the box he keeps under the counter. T hat would t each th e old pirate to call me fat again anytime soon!
    Back out on my street, th e jumpy feeling returned, and I thought I caught a glimpse of th at homeless guy again on the steps of a brownstone at the end of the block. Then I realized it was only a porter, cleaning the steps.
    “Time to get out of town, kid do,” I thought. “You’re overdue. ”
    “Hey, babe! I got a sure thing for ya in the fifth at Belmont tomorrow!”
    Eddie the Sunbather was yelling at me from his park bench on the island in the middle of the street.
    Most of the time, Eddie hangs out at the OTB in the next block. Sometimes he sells a sheet at the track. On sunny days he sits on his bench, with his shirt open, improving his tan. That would be okay , I guess, if he was also a body builder, but Eddie is overweight, pushing ninety, and has long, stringy, dyed hair. Not a pretty sight. Tonight, with a brisk wind blowing off the river , Eddie wore his ancient trench coat, a scarf, and a Yankees cap.
    “Some other time, Eddie,” I yelled over the traffic, “I’m out on another trip tomorrow and I’m running kinda short on cash.”
    “Well, a ll right, kid,” he yelled back, “but when I hit it big, you just remember I tried to let you in!”
    I started back down the street, then stopped, caught a break in traffic and crossed against the light to Eddie’s bench.
    “Eddie. In the last few days, when you were sitting here, did you see anyone funny hanging around, anyone who didn’t belong here, not a tourist, not a regular? A homeless guy, maybe, with long brown dreads and weird-looking eyes?”
    He took his stogie out of his mouth and squinted up at me.
    “Yeah. Yeah. Now that you mention it, babe, maybe I did. Yesterday. He was sitting on the steps of your building.”
    He chewed on the stogie then squinted up at me.
    “He been bothering you? He better not bother you none, cause if he does, he’s gonna answer to Big Eddie here. You know that, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, I know that.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Eddie. See you around.”
    Great. Just great. I had a stalker. And not even a cute one. I scooted across the street just ahead of the M5 bus and headed home.
    There were no freaky types hanging around my building as I entered, just the doorman having an intense discussion in Polish with the delivery guy from the dry cleaners.
    While I waited for the elevator, I checked myself out in the lobby mirror. No matter what Kim thinks , I am not fat. Not too old. Not too young. Pretty okay looking, I thought, in my black Manhattan uniform.
    My hair is black, too, and my purse and my shoes. We New Yorkers look like a colony of cat burglars.
    I pushed the elevator button again, like that would make it come faster. The lighted numbers showed it stopped on 6. If it doesn’t come soon, I said to myself, I will take the stairs . I glanced back at the mirror, thinking that I really didn’t look too b ad, considering the day I’d had . I am lucky to have these big gray eyes with long enough