Dancers & Other Short Stories

THE QUESTION

  The back of Walter's hairy hand touched the side of my knee. "Take a look at that." he whispered.

 

  I didn't have to look up to know what he was talking about. The parade of good looking women had been non-stop all day. Back and forth they strolled along the boat dock at the marina. When they eyed the rich bastards sitting on their yachts, they slowed their strut and struck various poses designed to draw attention to themselves.

 

  I glanced up and saw a string bikini clad lovely looking our way. It might have been me she was looking at, but it wasn't me she wanted. She was looking for a sugar daddy. That was definitely not me.

 

  The boat rocked slightly as I leaned forward and took another cold beer from the ice chest. It was a German dark ale but I couldn't pronounce or even read the name. It was pretty good though. Walter leaned back, took a drag off the Cohiba Esplendido, and blew a few smoke rings skyward. "This is the life, eh? These babies go for $35 a pop."

 

  "I guess so," I said as I propped my K-Mart boat shoes up on the ice chest.

 

  "You guess so?" he asked. "You know damned good and well this is the life, boy."

 

  I leaned back and stared at the blue summer sky and wondered again how my small circle of friends had overlapped with Walter's circle. It wasn't like we had anything in common. He had all he needed. I had a fairly stable job but lived from paycheck to paycheck. Hell, I'd had to charge the boat shoes, shorts, and t-shirt from K-Mart on an already over-extended credit card when I'd gotten the invite to spend the afternoon on the boat.

 

  My buddy, Sam had asked me to come along and spend the afternoon with some of his friends. I think he was surprised when I accepted. Now he and some of the other members of the party were off on a cigar boat speeding across the bay, drinking and raising hell. There was not enough room for all of us, so Walter had volunteered to stay behind with me. Out of charity, I guess. I didn't care because I didn't fit in with that crowd anyway. It was obvious that Walter despised me and everyone like me for that matter. Anybody that wasn't rich fit that bill.

 

  Another girl gracefully strutted along the deck near the back of the boat. I always wondered why rich people bought these big-assed boats and then left them tied up in the marina all the time. So they could just spend their time partying, I guessed. Kind of like a floating whorehouse.

 

  "You want some of that cooze?" Walter asked. "I can get it for you. All I have to do is just say the word."

 

  "Nah," I said. "I've had all the tail I can stand for one day."

 

  Walter reared back and laughed. Then the question. The one that the nouveau riche asked themselves to flaunt their wealth; to validate themselves. No really rich person would ask such a question; they didn't know that we even existed.

 

  "Wonder what the poor folks are doing today?"

 

  My sphincter tightened. I hated that question. "Well, I don't know about all of them," I said. "But this one's sitting here drinking your beer."

 

  I could sense the tension in the air. I continued, "There are a lot of poor folks out there, Walter. A lot of them are homeless and starving. I expect they are wondering where their next meal is coming from. You ever been homeless, Walter?"

 

  "Damn near it," he exclaimed. "I once got to the Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas and my reservations had been lost. Had to stay in the Encore instead. Made them comp it too. Bastards lost the reservations to a $34,000 per night room. Like I couldn't pay for it or something."

 

  "I don't think it's the same, Walter."

  "Well, it's a rhetorical question anyway. I wasn't looking for an answer."

 

  "You've never thought about being poor?"

 

  "Why should I? I've got all I need. Money, women, liquor, food, toys. I don't have to work a day for the rest of my life if I don't want to. To hell with the poor people."

 

  "How much money you got, Walter?" I asked. I knew this was not the kind of question that you would ask a rich person, or anybody for that matter. I was just toying with him and he knew it. He didn't like it one damned bit either. What did I have to lose?

 

  Walter shifted his bulk around as he pulled another beer from the ice chest beside his chair. He pondered his response. "Well," he said. "I guess it's just over twenty million, give or take a few mil." His chest puffed out a bit and a slight sneer crossed his face, then vanished.

 

  "Huh," I said. "I thought it would be more than that."

 

  His face contorted and I could see anger just below the surface. Walter was not good at hiding his feelings. He said, "Well, Sport, how much money you got?"

 

  "Enough to get back home on, I guess. Let's see. I've paid the rent and light bill for this month. If I don't eat too much, I think I can make it to payday."

 

  "Sorry to hear that."

 

  "It's OK, Walter. Well anyway, I'm going below to take a dump," I said.

 

  Walter's ears flattened and turned a bright red. I knew he didn't want a poor person stinking up the boat. He didn't say anything though.

 

  After a few minutes I emerged from below. "You got any air freshener, Walter? Man, it stinks down there," I said, waving my hand back and forth in front of my nose. I watched Walter as the muscles in his back tightened and laughed to myself.

 

  I sat back down and propped my feet up on the ice chest, making sure he could see my K-Mart shoes. "Now back to those poor folks…"

 

  "Shut the hell up about those damned poor folks, you redneck hick."

 

  I sat back and silently watched the girls as they paraded along the dock. A well tanned brunette smiled in our direction. I gave her a gap-toothed grin and laughed as she turned away in disgust. Walter looked at me and said, "You're really a dumb bastard, aren't you?"

 

  Suddenly, Walter's eyes bulged slightly. He groaned, grabbed his left arm and then his chest. A second later, he vomited all over the teak deck. He fell out of his seat and rolled over on the floor. He looked at me with hatred in his eyes. I jumped up from my seat and straddled him. It was too late. I could see his life fading away.

 

  I shook my head as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911. "Better poor than dead, Walter. Better poor than dead."

 

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