All Day, All Night, Marianne
By Richard Daybell
Copyright 2010 Richard Daybell
Toussaint conned his small motorboat to the empty spot at the pier, near where Roberto lolled, dangling his big bare feet in the warm water. The boat, like Toussaint's shirt and shorts, had the scars of a life well lived. On each side, the hand-lettered word taxi just above the waterline made it an official vehicle for transporting passengers up, down, and around the island's seven-mile coastline.
Toussaint nodded and took up a cross-legged position next to Roberto.
Roberto grunted in reply.
"What's the matter?" asked Toussaint.
"Nothing," answered Roberto in a child's whine, the kind that begs for additional prodding. "Nothing. I was at Pigeon Beach today."