THEY MAKE THEIR WAY outside in four styles of wobble; only Jack walks with certain steps. The fierce wind, funneled by buildings, makes them hug themselves. Cabs are waiting at the door, since Flynn’s is a perfect spot to find fares to downtown hotels. Jack steps up to the first one, opens the door, motions Effie and Richard in, and calls out to Belinda and Matthew, “Come on. We can all fit. Belinda can sit on my lap. Come on, come on.” He’s waving, puffing frozen breath.
“I don’t think they can take more than four,” says Belinda.
“That’s right,” Matthew says. “He’ll give us a hard time.”
“Why should he care?” says Jack. He slides in and pats his lap. “Come on, Belinda. Matthew can sit in front.” Belinda grins and shrugs and settles herself on Jack’s lap. Matthew opens the front door. The cabdriver, a woman, says, “I can’t take five. I can’t do it.”
“It’s not far,” Matthew says. “And it’s so cold. Can’t you just take us?”
“No.”
“But they’re already in. Just go, okay?”
“Look, it’s not my rule. I’m telling you, I can’t do it. One of you has to get out.”
Matthew looks back through the plastic partition. It’s all laughs and good times back there. He has the impression that they aren’t even aware that the cab hasn’t started moving. He knocks on the plastic. Everyone looks at him.
“She can’t take five,” he shouts. “Maybe Belinda and I should — ”
Jack makes a rubbing motion between his thumb and forefinger, and he mouths the word money. He looks at Matthew as if he should know that money’s the answer.
Matthew has never done anything like this. He has never offered a bribe for a favor, for special treatment, never tried to get a rule bent, never even slipped a maître d’ a folded bill to get a table. He wonders if it works, if it will work now. He takes his wallet out and looks into it. How much? He pulls out a ten. He looks at the driver.
“Here,” he says.
She takes the bill, flips the flag down, puts the cab in gear, and drives off. Matthew feels absolutely wonderful for about a block and a half, but then he begins to wonder whether he could have gotten her to take them for five dollars, and then he begins to wonder about paying the fare. Should I tip on top of the bribe? What’s the etiquette here? The driver asks about the restaurant, whether it’s still “as good as it used to be.” She must think I’m a tourist. Matthew comes close to telling her that he’s B. W. Beath. When they arrive at his building, he adds a dollar to the fare.
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🎧 453: They make . . .