The Midnight Tour

He didn’t try to look out the windows for a final glimpse of Beast House or the Kutch House. As the bus pulled away and drove slowly through town, he stared at the back of the seat in front of him. He didn’t even turn his head for a look at the Welcome Inn, which had also been made famous by the Horror books and movies.

She ruined it for me. All of it.

Owen had a tightness in his throat.

When’ll I ever make it back again?

Maybe the place won’t even be here by the time I ever get back. Things happen. It might get shut down for some reason. It might burn to the ground...

I might keel over dead or get bit by a car.

You never know.

This might’ve been my one and only chance in my whole life to really experience this place.

Thanks a bunch, Monica.

Somewhere past the Welcome Inn, the bus turned around.

“We’ll be making one more pass through town,” Patty announced into her microphone. “It’ll give you a final opportunity to see the sights and snap a quick photo or two before we head over to the Highway One.”

Final opportunity.

On the way back through town, Owen kept his eyes forward.

Monica kept her nose to the window. As they left Malcasa Point behind, she smiled at him. Patting his thigh, she said, “Maybe we’ll have to come back again sometime and really do the place up right.”

“Good idea,” Owen said.

Soon, Monica scooted down in her seat, folded her hands in her lap, and shut her eyes.

That’s a very good idea, Owen thought. Take a nap. That’s when you’re at your best.

He leaned out into the aisle for a look at Patty. She was standing up front, her back to Owen, bent over slightly and peering out the windshield.

I bet she isn’t a bitch like Monica, he thought. She seems so nice.

How about the other one?

Dana.

I wonder if Patty knows her. She must.

Why not go up and ask her?

Oh, sure.

He imagined himself saying, “Hey, Patty? I was just wondering. I met a guide named Dana today. Do you know her?”

And Patty answers, “Oh, sure, she’s my best friend.” And Owen says... what?

What do I say then? he wondered.

Doesn’t matter, he thought. I’m not about to go up and talk to her. And I’m never going to see Dana again. Even if I do get back to Malcasa some day, she’ll probably be long gone.

I’ll never see her again.

He remembered how Dana had looked in the sunlight when he was handing over his tape player. Her golden hair blowing softly in the breeze, her skin tawny and smooth, her eyes deep and blue and full of gentleness and understanding. He remembered her friendly voice.

There are gals like Dana in this world, and I’m stuck with Monica. It isn’t fair.

It hurt, thinking about the unfairness.

Stop thinking about it. And don’t think about Monica. Forget her. Just think about Dana. Picture Dana. Forget everything else.

Settling down in the seat, he closed his eyes and let his mind linger on Dana. The images calmed him. She was so beautiful and sweet, and she seemed to like him, too. Soon, he pictured himself unfastening a button in the middle of her uniform blouse, slipping his hand inside and discovering that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He filled his hand with the smooth bare skin of her breast.

When he woke up, the bus was nearing the toll booths of the Golden Gate Bridge. He felt very fine—well rested and somewhat aroused—but then he saw Monica slouched beside him and his good feelings ended.

Luckily, she was still asleep.

But she was wide awake and perky by the time the bus stopped at their hotel.

Owen led the way up the aisle.

As they neared the front, Patty smiled and said, “Hope you enjoyed your visit to Beast House. Come and see it again sometime.”

“I will,” Owen said. “Thank you.” Then he handed her a folded five-dollar bill and added, “I really enjoyed your part of the tour.”

“Well, thank you very much. Have a good evening, now, both of you.”

Monica, behind him, said nothing.

After the bus pulled away, Monica said, “What did you give her?”

“A little tip.”

“How generous.”

“She was really good. You know, her talk on the way out.”

“That’s what she gets paid for. You didn’t have to tip her. My God, you’d think you were made of money.”

It’s my money.

He thought it, but knew better than to say it.

To change the subject, he asked, “Should we go up to the room for a while, or...?”

“And waste more time? We haven’t done anything yet. Let’s go look in some stores.”

For the next two hours, they roamed through shops along Fisherman’s Wharf, in the Cannery and Ghiradelli Square.

Finally, Owen asked, “Are you getting hungry yet?”

“Oh, I could eat any time.”

“Maybe we should start looking for a nice restaurant.”

She nodded. “Anyplace would be fine with me.”

“Well...” He shrugged.

“How about Alioto’s?” Monica asked.

“Okay, sure.”

They walked to the restaurant. After a brief wait, they were seated at a window table where they had a fine view of San Francisco Bay. Monica seemed delighted by it. Owen didn’t care, but he agreed that it was beautiful.

He started with a Mai Tai. He munched on sour dough bread. Then he drank a second Mai Tai with his meal of crab legs. Monica sipped white wine and ate rare prime rib.

She chatted happily, apparently enjoying herself.

Good for her, Owen thought.

And he wondered what it might be like to have dinner at a place like this with someone like Dana. Or even Patty. Or even...damn near anyone but Monica.

What the hell am I doing with her?

“What would you like to do now?” he asked when they were done with dinner.

“What do you want to do?” Monica asked.

Go back to Malcasa Point, he thought.

But he said, “Well, there’s a Ripley’s Believe It or Not place we walked by last night. How about paying it a visit?”

“Oh, it’s probably full of gross stuff. I’ve had enough of that for one day, thank you very much. Let’s go back to Pier 39.”

“Okay.”