She climbed in behind the wheel. He stood there hesitantly. Then he saw her looking at him. She was smiling. It was a dim smile, like a dare. He had the feeling he was bracing himself for a test. His teeth were clenched as he walked around to the other side of the car.
He opened the door. He started to climb in and then he stopped and said, “This is very nice upholstery. You sure I won’t get it dirty? I’m wearing my working clothes.”
“Please get in.”
She was starting the engine. He got in and settled back in the seat. The car moved away from the curb. They took a corner and then another corner and the MG came back onto Vernon. She wasn’t pushing it, just letting it glide. He settled back and told himself to enjoy the cruise. The hell with her. It was a nice hunk of automobile and it was giving him a smooth ride and that was all. But then he wondered if his grimy trousers were dirtying the upholstery. He bit at the side of his mouth.
Then he noticed they were headed in the direction of Wharf Street and he said, “We’re going toward the docks.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You been here before?”
“Many times,” she said. “But I’ve never seen the river at night. Do you mind if we have a look at it?”
He shrugged. “You’re the driver.”
The MG came onto Wharf Street and turned left and moved parallel to the docks. They were going very slowly now, cruising past the hulking shadowy shapes of piers and warehouses. In the black water along the wharves the big freighters were settled like motionless oxen waiting for morning. Within another hour the river activity would begin, the trucks would arrive to receive cargo from incoming ships, and workers would be straining under the weight of bales and crates and heavy cardboard boxes. But now, in the moonlight, the piers were deserted, and the only sound was the engine of the MG.