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Desperate for sleep Sue rode the subway home. She had
a new job to start but before that she could spare three
glorious hours in bed. There were no free seats so she
hung from a rail and allowed her eyes to close.
She had been counting on the data entry job. She already
owed two whole months of rent and she doubted the landlord
would wait any longer. The cocktail bar job might just
save her. The pay came at the end of the week but the
tips came every few minutes. With difficulty she attempted
the arithmetic. If she could serve twenty tables an
hour, and each table had 3 drinks on average, that made
60 drinks an hour. She worked for five hours each evening.
What was 5 multiplied by 60? And how much did drinks
cost? Say $2? She didn't know but she thought that might
be about right.
So, 5 times 60 times 2. What did that come to? She
tried to work it out, and then tried to find a way to
estimate the answer. Neither approach worked. Eventually
she decided it must be about $1000, a figure which she
found encouraging. Now, a standard tip, a simple round
figure, was 20 percent. Even Sue could calculate 20
percent of a thousand dollars in her head.
She was pressed near the door against a heavy, bearded
man, maybe 50 years old. He wore a suit and tie and
looked fierce, but he carried a cane and walked with
a limp and she sensed some hidden vulnerability. Everyone's
an actor, she thought. Half by accident Sue met his
gaze. Instead of looking away like most commuters he
flashed her a confident smile, and she warmed to him.
Sue could spare three evenings a week at the bar. That
made a total of $600 a week in tips. At that rate it
would take some time to pay off the rent but it could
be done, and she could afford to eat at the same time,
and buy books.
The train pulled into a station and four boys pushed
on, surrounding the big man. He grimaced and adjusted
his stance a little.
A small part of Sue's brain suddenly switched focus
and she began to watch the boys. One of them jostled
the man. He tried to look, but there was no space to
turn. He glanced at them from the corner of his eye
but the gaze lacked authority, and gave up.
The train rocked and the boy pushed him again, harder
this time. It rocked twice more and they did nothing.
They began to talk to each other but Sue could not follow
the conversation. Then the train braked sharply and
the shortest of the boys threw himself at the man, hitting
him a cruel blow in the kidneys. The man gasped and
bent forward. As he did, the boy at his side reached
into his jacket and lifted his wallet.
Sue pretended not to notice. The train pulled into
the station and the doors opened.
"We getting off here?" asked one of the boys.
"Yeah."
Three of them had left by the time Sue freed a hand.
In a flash she grabbed the remaining boy's wrist and
held tight. He looked back to see who was holding him.
When he saw Sue he grinned. "What you doing?"
He tried to pull away but her grip was too strong.
He brought his other hand towards her but it met resistance,
almost as if the very air was stopping it. With great
effort he pulled himself away, out of the carriage and
onto the freedom of the platform. Sue allowed him to
move away. Then she pulled him roughly back onto the
train and gripped his wrist more tightly. She could
see surprise now and some respect. He knew he was caught.
"Give me the wallet," she said calmly. "Now."
"Screw yourself." He glared at her, looked
over his shoulder at his friends on the platform, and
then seemed to capitulate. "OK, relax will you!"
Reluctantly he reached into his pocket. When he withdrew
his hand it held a knife. Now there was a look of greater
confidence in his eyes but Susan had been expecting
this. She released his left hand and swung her fist
quickly upwards. The blow knocked the boy unconscious.
She took the knife, closed it and placed it in her pocket,
reached into the boy's jacket to retrieve the wallet,
and then pushed him roughly onto the platform just as
the carriage doors closed.
Susan looked up at the large man. He was staring down
at her in amazement. "Sir, I believe this is yours."
He took the wallet. "How did you do that?"
Susan shrugged. "How did I do what?"
The man studied at her for a moment more and then appeared
to make a decision. He nodded and opened the wallet,
withdrawing a $50 bill.
"Well, thank you anyway.
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