I left my old apartment around 3:30am last night to bike home to the new apartment 2 blocks away. Just as I mount my bike a woman across the street, walking her bike, asks if I'll ride with her. I get off my bike and ask,
"How far are you going?" She says,
"Henry. Just a few blocks. You got a light?"
"No, sorry. I don't smoke."
"Nevermind, I found one. You want a hit?"
"Umm, no thanks. I don't smoke." I agree to ride with her up to Henry. She explains her predicament.
"I came all the way from Standale-"
"Wow, that's pretty far."
"It's not that bad, downhill most of the way. Besides, I've got legs like mules. I ride my bike to work at two jobs- one on Fulton, the other on 44th street- about 20 miles a day. So, I've got to talk to my nephew. He's got some killer bud and I need to get to it."
We stop and she asks for a favor. She's hot from riding and needs to take off her sweatshirt. She asks me to hold down her t-shirt while she takes off her sweatshirt. I gently hold it down while she pulls up her white sweatshirt and I let go as she ties it around her waist. She's in her early 30s and is somewhat attractive, but her reason for being out so late and her slightly annoying Michigan accent, kind of covered up by her years of smoking, made it all platonic.
"Man, my nephew. He's a little punk. I was dating this guy and my nephew knew that the guy was cheating on me. That's fucked up. You wouldn't do that to your aunt, would you? He's 24, how old are you?"
"Yeah, see...I gave him fifty bucks like 4 days ago. And I ain't seen my pot yet. I'm going to go over there and yell at him. I could have bought a carton of cigarettes and some beer in the meantime. I'm going to lose it. Hey, for riding with me, you should smoke a joint with me when I get there."
"Uhh, thanks, but I was actually heading home, I've got to work tomorrow morning."
"Yeah, it's probably for the best anyway. Some shit might go down. What's your name, anyway?"
"I'm Patty. Now, if you hear about some chick who was murdered over on Henry street, you'll know it was me."
Just a street later I see her off, now nervous about just letting her go, but knowing that some puny yuppie-looking kid could be in more danger. I start riding the opposite way and she yells, "Thanks, Boo."