Then There's Wilbur

Chapter 2

Wilbur

"You're such a pretty boy," she whispered as her fingernail trailed slowly from my cheek, down to my neck. The car reeked of Victoria's Secret and spilled wine the moment she popped her head from the limousine's partition.

I held onto her hands and tried putting her back in her seat. "And you're a very fine, married woman, Mrs Carter." I practically shoved her head back before quickly rolling the partition up. I've dealt with intoxicated women before. And they're far more difficult to deal with than the average drunk at Georgia Lane's Grill.

Just another ordinary night, Gibson. Just another ordinary night.

Fixing my tie, I asked her if she was alright. And judging from the giggle I heard, she was doing mighty fine. "Women," I murmured, before starting the car. I was determined to get her home. Then I could go straight to my bed and finally get the rest I deserve.

I heard her knocking and I considered ignoring the taps. In the end, I cautiously rolled the partition down. Mrs Carter removed the stray strands of hair from her face and pouted.

"Tell me Wil, darling –" Her speech was slurred, her forehead resting on her palm as she looked at me while I drove. This was an expensive car. I was working to save money; not pay for damages. "– do you think Richard still finds me attractive?"

This made me raise an eyebrow. Why would she be asking me? I don't even know how her husband treated her. He called me whenever his wife needed a ride and that was it. I was paid to drive for her, no questions asked.

"Well," I cleared my throat and took a glimpse of her from the rear view mirror. Her make-up was smudged and her eyes looked puffy. I guess cosmetics don't always do the trick. "I don't see any reason why he wouldn't."

My answer seemed to pacify her, and she sat back, pleased. About half an hour later, I was being helped by some of her household staff to get her inside the Carters' mansion.

Now that that was over, I had to head downtown and park my ride back at James'. I was lucky enough to be available tonight. Besides, it paid more than my side-line at the bowling alley, excluding tips.

I checked my wristwatch and cursed when I saw that it was already nine o'clock. I needed to get home, but James told me he had another job ready for me.

I really wasn't a regular at anything. It's the thought of being stuck in a shift for almost eight hours that bored me. I had enough savings after trying my luck with stocks. And I was smart enough to pull out when things went down like a sinking ship. Pulling out just in time always seemed to work for me.

Whistling to myself, I turned to a corner, where I was supposed to park the limo. I was just getting off the car when I heard James calling my name.

James always liked mafia movies. And after visiting Boston for two summers, he convinced himself that that's what he was; a mafia man contacted by the rich - for limo rides and catering services. The old coot knew what the generous market needed. I could applaud him for that.

"Willy!' He enveloped me in a hug that was too awkward for my comfort. He barely reached my shoulder, and his hair wax was sticking to the only suit jacket I owned. He eventually let go of me and practically dragged me to his office. "I got a job for you," he said in a weird accent. I was assuming he just watched yet again, another pitiful attempt of the film industry to portray mafia men.

I sat down, removing my jacket. "What do you have for me, boss? Catering services? Escort? Bodyguard?"

He laughed, holding his belly, his shirt's buttons threatening to pop open. "Always so eager to earn some cash, ain't ya?"