Excerpt
EARLY SHOPPING
Spring had come already that year, in the middle of March, and the days had lengthened, had become warm, and flowers had started to bloom in the flowerbeds and gardens of people. Everywhere one went, he saw them dancing their delicate swaying under the sun’s rays, just as the wildflowers sway and dance to the whims of the wind, which one encounters when just a few kilometres away from Vancouver’s downtown. The snow has melted on the local mountains, and the winter sports were almost finished for the year. There were times when some daring people would even go to the beach and lie down to catch some sun rays, not warm rays, yet rays regardless.
Costa had started his day shift at 6:30, and after three short trips and a long one to the airport, a run every cabbie would love to get at any time of the day or night, he took three seamen to the dock where their ship was docked, the Ballantyne Pier in East Vancouver. On his way back to the centre, the dispatcher gave him one.
“79, 362 Cordova”
“Roger,” Costa replied and turned his wheel to the proper street until he found 362, just two blocks away. He couldn’t see anyone waiting, and he was ready to get out and ring the bell when the door of the house opened, and two middle-aged men came out, a white guy and a local Indian, both pissed drunk, they staggered towards the taxi. The native Indian helped the white guy negotiate the six steps from the door to the street while he held up the white man’s pants, which weren’t tied around the man’s waist. This was happening around 8:30 in the morning.
