Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIX
The trolley tooted its horn and pulled in front of the little lobster shack. Gathering along the perimeter of the lobster roll to-go hut was a small crowd of people bundled up in light jackets and scarves, some wearing hats. Several were most definitely vacationers based on their banter and accents.
Porsche zipped up her dark red leather jacket and looked around, waiting for Nikolai, still rather surprised that he had asked her to meet him there for a tour ride. She’d never taken one as it seemed more of a touristy thing to do, but he’d told her they’d have dinner afterwards. Not a bad idea at all.
So she found a parking spot and stood there with the crowd. Though she’d grown up relatively close to Maine, she’d not traveled often to Portland prior to her relocation, but always found it picturesque when she did. It was just one of those places that called to her, and she assumed it would be temporary. A few years perhaps. She looked at her phone to read an incoming text message from him.
I’m less than two minutes away.
She wrote back. Okay. You’re still on time.
That was considerate of him to let her know his whereabouts, or more likely, he was presenting a façade of the “trustworthy good guy.”
Just then, she realized she’d been played.
As she chewed on her lip, her mind did that thing it often did when she was trying to solve a puzzle. Nikolai’s background came up pretty clean, and she’d found out more about public perception of him, too. Nothing made sense or added up. He didn’t fit the profile in some ways, and in other ways, he was dead on. She hoped that their interview later would help fill in some gaps. Another thing that bothered her was that he was hellbent on getting a real date out of the deal, knowing full well she couldn’t discuss business on a guided toured streetcar with people sitting about, within earshot.
Just as she applauded him for a well-played move in her head, he showed up, approaching her in a slow sprint. He wore a light forest green jacket, slightly baggy denim jeans, and dark brown work boots.
She looked down at herself, suddenly feeling overdressed. Still, she regretted not wearing her three-inch high heels. Instead, she’d gone with a low-heeled dress shoe, which dwarfed her in front of the man who was built like a linebacker. She was tall herself, but with someone like him standing by her side, she felt vulnerable.
He brandished a growing grin, as if he were reading her mind. As they locked eyes, it became apparent to her that Nikolai got off on things like that. He wanted to be in control.
“Hey.” He lumbered close to her, his crooked grin so appealing. “How’s it goin’?”
“I’m doing pretty good today. Can’t complain.”
“I need to see your tickets, everyone,” a man wearing a Celtics hat announced, whistling to garner everyone’s attention as he went down the line with a clipboard. He read off various names, then pointed them to the trolley to sit in their designated seat.
Everyone was soon aboard the tram except for three people who did not show up on time to go. What a shame. Money down the drain. Maybe they got caught in traffic? She’d taken her window seat, and Nikolai sat right beside her on the two-seater bench. To a normal Joe, she figured they looked like a couple. The chauffeur was the same guy holding the clipboard. He slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the engine on while another man dressed like someone from the 1950s, fake cigar and all, clipped a small microphone to his collar, got into character, and introduced himself.
“My name is Pat, and I’m ya tour guide today! Welcome everyone!”
The spirited crowd waved and cheered.
“…Uh huh, where are ya from?” Pat questioned a few people.
“California!”
“France!”
“Hawaii!”
“Alaska!”
“Welcome, welcome! My handsome lint balls and gorgeous gum wrappers, I’m glad ya decided to come aboard the Journey Trolley today. You could have been anywhere else, like maybe outer space, but instead, you chose ol’ Patty boy’s ride.”
A few people chuckled.
He slapped his knee. “We’ll be gone a lil’ over an hour, so make ya self comfortable. At times the ride may be a little bumpy because as you may know we have some lovely cobblestone streets, sometimes called Belgian blocks. There will be stops along the way to take photos—we call those authorized halts. All I ask is that everyone stay seated when the trolley is not at an authorized halt. Otherwise, you might go hand gliding out the window. Remember, you signed a waiver, and I’ve still got a student loan to repay, so I can’t take care of your doctor bill should the road meet your face.
“Despite me looking like Bing Crosby and dressed like Marlon Brando, I’m just a thirty-one-year-old chap stuck in time, who loves long car rides and talkin’ to himself in front of a trapped audience. Today that’s you all. Well, aren’t y’all lucky?” This was met with more laughter.