Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Roper 4 - Poros

I had short notice coming here, since she first managed to call ahead from a phone booth in Piraeus. Greece`s telephone net was one of the first ones to get back on, but was still shaky in the sprawl areas of Athens. 

I had a comfortable view on the ferry arriving at the port from where I sat, pretending to read my dog eared novel with yellow pages.

The whole process of the ferry turning rapidly in the small harbour and stopping its turn, by unceremoniously dropping its stern ramp onto the pier to STOP the turn, made my teeth hurt:

The the sound of metal grinding against concrete was that of a giant rusty nail scratching a football field sized blackboard.

When the concrete dust settled the first on foot passengers came out, the usual amount of NW European refugees and a few tourists from the mainland. As usual when I saw M. my belly turned into a tight knot. The hot weather did not stop her from wearing the cracked/spotty leather jacked and her only admission to the climate were the huge 70`ies pilot sunglasses covering most of her upper face.

That could prove to be an advantage since her eyes usually turned me into an idiot within seconds. And I needed my whole wit for this. I dropped my novel ("Omega Conspiracy" somethingsomething) and tried to move naturally as I maneauvered out of the café. Or: as naturally as possible with the revolvers flute sized barrel practically immobilizing my right side. Wearing a calf leather holster in these parts under a oversized polo shirt is not a joke, I tell you that.

As I stepped out into the sun I noticed that L. was also in position. That man showed a heroic amount of dedication and simultaneous capacity as he managed to keep an eye on me and the pier AND keep his groupie entertained who looked as she was swimming in her tight garments by just looking at him.

(Very much so to the bewilderment of the muscular, tanned group of "Stavros`es" who were exhausting themselves flexing their muscles and couldn't grasp that "the Groupie" only had eyes for her sweating borderline chubby idol who was radiating an aura of  "socially awkward recluse" with 500 Watt.)

Jeesh.

M. stood in the shade of the large, wooden billboard painted up like a facebook profile and with hundreds of notes and scraps of paper serving as "status updates". I guess the islands millenials, refugees and occasional tourist really missed social media.

She eyed me, took the glasses of and granted me with a porcelain blue stare with just the right amount bemusement and mischief that made my knees wobble.

Damn!

Not this time!

A wry smile and a nod to my polo shirt: "Jeeeez, E. Are you THAT happy to see me again? That Swedish penis pump regime really worked wonders huh?"

I fought a smile back on its place, ouch...that gotta hurt tomorrow.....and was in a mental state somewhere between nodding like an idiot or slapping her face.

She noticed and took it back a notch, and just looked at me with the head slightly askew. Pondering. She turned her head whipping her blueish-black hair in a pony tail towards me.

Damn that hair smelled good....just the right amount of sun, fresh sweat and that weird Yemenite perfume.

STOP IT...count to 10.

"I see L. and the Mandrake are here as well. What a happy little family reunion this is!"

"Sure" I said, kicking myself mentally over the shins. "You called, you came, we meet. What`s up. You here to give us our money back?"

She stopped starring at L. and his groupie aka "Mandrake" and smiled again. For full force.

"Well, as a matter of fact.." she said and moved her right hand holding a plastic bag in Hellenic Colours. First now I noticed the slim, ceramic monofilament wire running from a cuff at her writs to a compact little suitcase in the bag.

"...yes. And then some interest!"




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