The Homeless Millionaire

I woke up hoping that Harry would return that day. It was Tuesday; he said he was going to stay with his mother over the weekend, and maybe an extra day or two.

I had breakfast and when I stepped out of the shower, I heard that someone was knocking on the front door. My first thought was that it was Harry. By the time I was halfway to the door, I realized that he would have just walked inside without knocking. I had the thought that it might be the police and my paranoid pal sprang into action and I had to light a cigarette to keep him under control before I answered the door.

There was a girl standing on the little porch. She was quite pretty. She was really tall, almost my height, and had blond hair cut level with her jaw and nice blue eyes and lips that didn't need lipstick. I liked her instantly and felt the scowl I'd prepared for the cops disappear from my face. She must have liked me too, because there was real warmth in her smile.

"Good morning. I'm sorry to disturb you," she said, and I felt compelled to explain why I took so long to answer the door.

"You caught me under the shower," I said and grinned and she grinned too. She was wearing a yellow raincoat with a hood over a thick navy blue turtleneck and jeans tight enough to tell me she had nice legs. She was also wearing boating shoes and when I looked over her shoulder I saw a sailboat had docked at the pier. A big hunk of a guy was busy mooring its bow; he had already done the stern. He was wearing a black beanie and a dark blue pea coat and black jeans and radiated hostility even at fifty yards.

The girl cleared her throat, and I turned my eyes onto her.

"We messed up our sheets and ran into a rock and started taking water," she said. She was about to say more, but she saw the dazed look on my face and fell silent.

"You messed up what?" I said.

"Sheets. The sail ropes. That's why we hit a rock, we couldn't turn fast enough."

"Oh yes, of course, the sheets," I said.

"Yes. So we docked here and we hope you won't mind us staying here until we get the damage sorted out. I'm Jane, by the way."

"I'm Mike," I said, and pulled on my cigarette to buy some time and maybe throw a little smokescreen while I thought of what to say to that. I looked down at the pier again when I did that and saw that the guy had finished f.u.c.k.i.n.g around with the rope and was walking up the slope to the house. I said:

"Sure, you can work on your boat here. If you need any tools or some wood, just ask me. I don't know anything about fixing holes in the hull, though."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. She turned and saw the guy coming to join us and waited until he was quite near and then she said:

"D.i.c.k, we can repair the boat here." She said it as if it was bad news.

"Oh yeah?" said D.i.c.k, stepping onto the porch uninvited.

"Great," he said, standing close enough for me to smell the liquor on his breath. "That's just great. Hey, could we come inside and warm up a little? Then we'll get working on the boat."

I realized I had left the pot out on prominent display in the kitchen. I really didn't want anyone strange coming inside. But he'd made a reasonable request, so I settled on a compromise.

"Just give me a moment," I said, and walked inside and shut the door. I had just walked a couple of steps when I heard the door open again behind me and turned and saw that D.i.c.k was coming inside. He wasn't just radiating hostility any more, he was zapping me with hostility rays from an invisible gun.

Something popped inside my head - I swear I felt it - and I walked up to the shotgun propped up in the corner of the room and picked it up and swung it in D.i.c.k's general direction and said:

"Stop right there."

He did, in the center of the room. He gaped at the shotgun. I hoped to hell he thought that it was loaded. I said:

"Turn around and get the f.u.c.k out of this house. Now."

I lifted the double barrel slightly when I said that and he said:

"What the f.u.c.k? Are you crazy? You pointing a gun at me?"

That was the right moment to point the gun at the ceiling and fire a shot, and then point it right at him and request him to leave in crude terms. But I couldn't do that, because the gun wasn't loaded. I swung it up anyway and put my finger on the trigger and said:

"Okay, I'm not pointing it at you. Now get the f.u.c.k out of here."

D.i.c.k bared his teeth like a f.u.c.k.i.n.g dog and took a step towards me and my finger tightened on the trigger and I nearly went deaf when the shotgun went off right next to my ear.

The shot had a strong effect on D.i.c.k, too. He froze and took a step back and said:

"F.u.c.k.i.n.g hell." Then he sidled towards the door and outside, keeping his eyes on me and my gun all the way.

I walked up to the doorway with the shotgun pointed down and my finger on the trigger guard. They were already off the porch and they were completely quiet, I would have expected the girl to ask what had happened or scream or something, but she'd kept silent throughout. I could see them start talking when they got halfway down to the pier and out of earshot. It was an unnecessary precaution, I had seriously impaired hearing right then.

I closed the door and watched them through the right front window. It gave a clear view of the action on the pier. They'd stopped by the boat and it looked like they were having a fight. It went on long enough for me to get a cigarette and smoke it halfway down.

Then D.i.c.k climbed aboard the boat - he was a little shaky there, the boat dipped and for a moment it looked as if he might lose his balance. Unfortunately he didn't, and started looking around the boat, then bent down and started bailing water out with a big red scoop. The girl stood on the pier and watched him do that with her hands in the pockets of her raincoat.

They had another short argument when I was on my second cigarette, and there was some arm- waving and pointing done at the mainland. There also was some pointing done at the sky, which was quickly filling with dark-bellied clouds. To my eye the wind was blowing from the northwest, which meant they'd have it in the back if they set course for Lion's Bay. It was a small, slender boat with a f.u.c.k.i.n.g tall mast with sails fore and aft, and I was sure it could go pretty fast. I'd seen a lot of boats like that when I was in Sweden and they could easily overtake a boat with an outboard such as the one Harry had, at the house.

I was just about to light my third cigarette when D.i.c.k stopped bailing out water and straightened up and said something to the girl. I couldn't hear her, but it was obvious she started screaming at him. I saw her beat the air with her fist a couple of times. I half-expected her to leave that asshole there and come to the house. But she didn't. She stepped down into the boat, and D.i.c.ky was all good manners this time around, offering her a hand. She refused it. I liked her a lot. I was sorry to see her leave, all the more so with an asshole like him.

They undid the lines and cast off and quickly ran up the front sail and then the main sail at the back. Like I had thought they made very good speed, with the wind three-quarters back. They seemed to set course for Brunswick Beach or Lion's Bay and were out of sight very quickly behind the trees lining the shore on both sides of Harry's house.

I spent the rest of that day getting pummeled by my paranoid pal. He laid off only after I'd eaten another instant-blackout dinner of mushroom stew and bread and beer. I knew that I would have to tell Harry about the whole incident, and I knew it made me look careless and paranoid and a fool. Telling Harry about it wasn't going to be pleasant, but all the same I wished he would return soon.

He showed up the next day.