Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Seventy-seven

Cab drivers have seen it all. Witness if you will the extended series on HBO called Taxi Cab Confessions. Lots of weird shit, lots of weird people. I wouldn't consider myself much of a weird person—more than anything I was in a weird situation.

"Let's go, whip 'em off," Kate said, referring to my pants as she pulled out a needle and thread. She had a lot of sewing to do by the time we got to the wedding.

"They usually don't start weddings on time, do they?" I asked as I yanked my shoes off.

"Never," she said as my shoes tumbled to the floor.

"Good."

"But this is a small wedding ... so you never know."

I unzipped my pants, which got the attention of the cab driver.

"Hey, hey, whad's going on back dare? I don't wan no funny stuff goin' on in my cab," he said in that lovable Southside Chicago accent.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, sir. My brother here ripped his pants and I'm just going to sew them up. We're going to a wedding."

"Here ... sis," I said as I handed her my pants.

"I just don wan no funny stuff, or you guys is oudda here."

"Don't worry, sir. Sis and I haven't fooled around with each other since she was ten and I was twelve."

"Oh stop, you're making me blush," Kate said.

With that, he ignored us for the rest of the ride.

The cab was pretty warm, so other than draping them over my boxers and thighs, I didn't use the sweat pants. I guess it was more of a security thing than a warmth thing. I watched Kate sew while I put on the bow tie. She chewed on the side of her mouth, and moved her lips back and forth as she concentrated on the task at hand. Watching her, I got this weird thought and imagined her sewing a kid's costume for Halloween or something of domestic meaning, and felt a gush of warmth pour through my body. Was it emotion, or was I having hot flashes in the cab?

"What are you thinking as you stare at me?" Kate said without looking up.

"I wasn't staring at you. I was just looking out your window. It's infinitely more interesting than the view out of mine."

"Oh, here. I forgot to give you this." She pulled a small makeup container that read "Cover Up" out of her pocket. "Shake it a little bit, and dab it slowly on your pimple."

I reluctantly grabbed it. "You don't think the sunglasses work?"

She shook her head no. "Oh, here. This ought to help." She pulled out a small mirror from her pocket as well.

I looked in the mirror, and again, the zit was actually starting to look better, but as I said before, maybe I was just getting use to it. I shook the cover up, popped the top, and with the mirror in my left hand, started to dab with my right index finger. I looked up a moment from the mirror and caught the cabbie staring at me in the rearview mirror.

"What, you never seen a man applying makeup before?" With that said, he looked back at the stoplight.

I looked at Kate. She gave me a crooked smile. "You're getting there ... are you sure you haven't done this before?"

To my right I noticed a car full of humorless Hispanic males staring at a man holding a small mirror to his face and dabbing makeup between his eyes. I winked, and as the light turned green, they sped off in their Pontiac.

Kate was right. This stuff looked like it was working. I might've gotten carried away though because I noticed my skin appeared to actually be two colors. Regardless, it looked better than before.