The Boot

"You can't come on here with that thing!"

"No way! I need to get downtown!"

"Mm-mm." The large, black bus driver shook her head and held out her hand in the mudra of renunciation. "You cannot come onto my bus with that," and she pointed at Jacob's feet. "Take that off my bus."

Jacob stepped back gingerly to the curb, the door shut in his face and the MUNI hummed away. Goddamit. At least he was lucky enough to be on a line where a few of the shelters still had payphones. He hobbled kitty-corner across the street. Fifty cents?! Jesus! When did that happen? He ponied up the change and dialed.

"Becca, it's Jacob. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick—"

"Jacob? Where are you? What is that noise?"

"It's traffic. I'm on Divis. Look, I gotta get downtown and take care of some tickets, but the bus drivers won't let me on the bus. Can you give me a ride?" And before she could say no, "Please, Becca? I mean it, I'll owe you one big-time. You won't have to wait; I can take the bus home. I just need to get down to City Hall before it closes."

"Tsk. Let me get dressed. Shit, man, what is it with you and Fridays, anyway? Where on Divis?" She sounded pissed, and would probably bitch him out the next three times she saw him, but dang, he didn't have cab fare, and listening to Becca was better than wearing the Boot for three days.

She kept him waiting almost an hour, so when he saw her roll up he jumped off the bus bench quick and shuffled into the street to meet her car.

She leaned across and unlocked the passenger door. "What the—where'd that come from?"

Jacob sat down and used his hands to lift his Booted foot into the car. "Where do you think? Damn Meter Man saw me on my way to the corner store and nabbed me for having too many tickets."

"I didn't know you had a car." One of Becca's bra straps looked twisted under her inside-out shirt. Jacob thought she smelled gamey. Way to spend the afternoon, Becca. You probably did it one more time before coming to get me, too, you bitch.

"I don't. But I've got five or six outstanding jaywalking tickets." Jacob jiggled his leg. "It was just bad luck he nabbed me." Damn, she was looking good. He remembered the afternoons they'd spent in bed, sex and coffee and cigarettes, a regular City cliche.

She sped off down McAllister. "You really shouldn't let those things pile up. If you kept them at four or under you wouldn't have to worry about getting the Boot." The car lurched to a halt. "Good luck getting that thing off."

"Thanks, Becca. I'll buy you a drink tonight at the show."

She flipped her hair. "If you can reach me through the crowd. See you there, Jake."

Bladerunner: Aimee Calls The Number

She always thought the carousel was out of place, even in such an anything-goes city. But that quirk made it a favorite of hers, and a natural when she needed a public place for a first date. She watched to see what brightly painted, jewel-clad animal he'd pick, but he hung back, letting her choose. She would've chosen the palomino with the eagle saddle but it was stationary, so to start things off she went for the giraffes.

They rode around and around, up and down under the sounds of a canned Wurlitzer, talking and watching the people on the other side of the glass.

"This one's called 'Professor Markey's Philharmonium'." Seeing his look, she added, "I only know that because I have the cd." Seeing his look, still, she continued, "Hey, I like carousel music. My father calls it a charming quirk."

"It's more charming than drug addiction. Or having a cleft palate." He was smiling.

"Exactly." When the music wound down and the carousel slowed to a stop, they moved to a new pair of animals and rode another turn, four, five, six, a new song and a new set of mounts each time. They chatted about work, about their favorite neighborhoods in the city, the worst movies of all time and the best music of their lives. About old pets and car trips and sushi mishaps.

"Oh my God." He reached down and grabbed hold of her horse's tail. "Is this real?" He lifted it up and let the hairs fan out.

Aimee squirmed around on the slick wood saddle and took a look. "Yeah, those are real horse tails. Does it creep you out?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, where's the rest of the horse, right?"

"You eat hamburger, don't you? What's the big deal? Long after the dog food is gone, at least people will still be admiring their tails. Tsk! We're slowing down. I've got one more ticket left—choose something good for the last ride."

"Let's finish on the giraffes, then." They wove around the platform and got back on their animals. "You know, Aimee, I was surprised you asked me out. I was sure I was dead in the water with you, you know?"

She smiled, ducking her head. "I wavered plenty, I'll admit. But then I started thinking, here I was in a job I didn't really like. Then this origami thing started, and even though it was this simple thing, it just made all the difference. Gave me something to think about other than being miserable. Like sunshine, somehow." She lifted her head now and looked him in the eye. "And I thought, to heck with what people might think, I'm asking him out. And I wanna say, thank you for that."

Her date grinned a goofy grin, thought about leaning over and taking her hand, but didn't. Not yet. "Well, I'm glad you asked me here to solve this mystery. We're stopping. What are you up for now? Wanna get something to eat?"

"Sure." She hopped down, and let him steady her with his arm even though her balance was fine. They were almost off the carousel platform when he looked up and said, "Hey, it's the guy from the theater!" He pointed. "Standing in front of the Zeum, there!"

"Huh, what do you know? You were right. I didn't think he'd show." Aimee threaded her arm through Russ's. "Neo. Mystery solved."

"I owe you five bucks."

My mom thinks I'm twelve.

Even after I used the last check to get a tattoo.

"Man, just ask her out already."

"I did! She shot me down."

"Man, asking a girl to hang out in your crappy-ass apartment watching black-and-white shit on tv ain't a date." Donte laughed. "It's assisted suicide. Ask her on a real date."

Russ shook his head. "I don't know, Donte. I mean, dating someone you work with can backfire. I've seen it happen. I know."

"Man, nobody in their right mind would choose this lame-ass job over a woman. Get right in the head, man! And go man the booth, man."

"Man, alright! Just leave it."

Russ dragged his skinny, sullen ass over to the chair by the glass doors, and sat down. "Theater 23 is upstairs level four. Theater 2 is on your right. Theater 4 is on your right. Bathrooms are by Theater 3." On and on in a robotic voice as his mind churned furiously. Ask Aimee out, again? God, he'd just about crapped his pants asking her the first time.

And she'd said no.

***

The paper heart was burning a hole in her pocket. She was dying to unfold it, but every time she had a minute Russ was at her elbow, or looking her way while sweeping across the lobby. She'd once asked Russ if she could, in the interest of their investigation-game, unfold his collection of cranes.

"Are you kidding? No way, Jose! I don't want them destroyed." Russ threw his arm in front of their roost on the popcorn machine. "One, if you unfolded them, I'd end up with a collection of receipts. Boring. Two, it would take a serious dent out of the mystery of Blade Runner's identity. And," he finished, "without the little perqs I manage to create around me, I'd go postal. I would. And I don't want to be the star of a prison movie, thanks."

"So hands off the cranes, Aimee."

She finally went into the women's room and sat down in a stall.

The crooked little heart, No. 14 in an erratic series, had been folded with the printing on the inside, so she carefully unfolded it, smoothed it flat against her thigh, and took a look. 11/19. Harry Potter. Well there goes that theory. Red Vines, large Coke.

And written in black ball-point pen, a phone number.

Aimee crumpled the receipt in her hand, poised to flee back into the lobby, then slowly flattened it out again. She didn't recognize the exchange. Probably a cell phone. I wonder if he's one of those pricks who text-messages through movies. Her purse was in the break room, and her highly-unattractive polyester Multiplex 24 uniform didn't have any pockets, so she slipped the paper inside the left cup of her bra, washed her hands, and went back to the snack bar.

***

"Oh, hey, Aimee. You look glum—but fabulously glum. You know, noir. Very noir."

"I'll take that as the compliment it might have been in a better life, Russ. Thanks. Any news on the Bladerunner front?" Sound casual, act casual.

"No, nothing since the 13th heart last week. Eleven cranes, two pinwheels, six little boats, and thirteen hearts. For awhile I thought it was a mathematical code, but apparently not." That's right, man, casually intelligent. That's right.

"So, no clues as to identity?" Aimee was looking down at the glass countertop.

Dazzle her, man. "Still have my short-list of suspects, the usual suspects," Cool! Stay cool, "Goth Chick With Roots, Neo, Retired Guy, and our neighborhood Comic Book Guy. Haven't been able to definitively weed any of them out. Although," Russ cleared his throat, "I never see Goth Chick hanging out with other women, so I can probably scratch her off my list. Heh, maybe Retired Guy has a thing for girls in polyester."

Aimee looked up at Russ, not smiling. "Thanks for that mood-lifter, Dr. Robert. I'm feeling ever-so-noir now."

Russ managed to squeeze words out of his frozen throat. "Sorry. I'm a dick. I didn't mean it that way. It's just that, uh, a bunch of paper hearts with 'Aimee' written inside, which only started appearing after you started wearing the origami earrings, it just seems like he's flirting with your."

"How do you know it's a guy? It could be a girl. It could be someone not on your list." Russ saw that while Aimee didn't resume her pose slouched over the counter, she didn't turn away, either.

"Yeah." Now. "Aimee, I, uh, I...go to the movies with me."

"I am at the movies with you."

No! "I mean, go out with me to the movies. Or to...someplace else. A date kind of place."

Aimee stood there, her arms crossed, chin lowered. "Are you asking me out?"

Russ felt like he was going to have an Olestra event righ there and then. "I, uh, yes. Please go out with me."

Aimee stood there, broadsided, not knowing what to say. Skinny, geeky Russ was asking her out. The guy who their coworkers once called the Andy Stitzer prequel. Glasses-wearing, comic-book-reading Russ. Under her arm Aimee could feel the unfolded, crumpled, and flattened origami heart against her breast. Maybe it was the guy they called Neo who'd left her his number. Tall, dark, fashionably rumpled Neo. That would be a score. Or maybe Russ's joke was nearer the mark and her secret admirer was the grizzled, pot-bellied Senior Discount. Or Comic Book Guy. Aimee's face crumpled in distress thinking about their obviously socially inept, body-odor-ridden patron leaving her love notes.

"Aimee, I'm sorry—don't cry!" Russ felt about two inches tall, looking into the face of a woman ready to cry at the prospect of a date with him. "I didn't mean it, Aimee. I'm sorry I upset you!" He turned and bolted down the hall toward Theater 4.

***

[I thought I could finish this today, but I ran out of time! —Suzanne]

Bladerunner again

Russ and Aimee gazed at the popcorn machine, butts up against the counter of oversized Dots and Redvines. They studied his growing origami collection in a blissful, quiet between movies, the only sounds the Coming Attractions monitor, the video games, the high school students screaming out on the street, and a toilet in the men's room that wouldn't stop flushing.

"So no more cranes."

"No, no more cranes. Only these," and Russ leaned forward to jab a folded white paper taped to the front of the popcorn machine, "twelve of them now."

Aimee shifted her weight, made to move like she was going for the hot dog ferris wheel, leaned back where she was. "That's weird."

"No, not weird." Russ shifted his weight again, jabbed another folded heart and stood there, hunched, not wanting to turn around, not wanting to turn away, "They all have 'Aimee' written on the inside."