A swift hand reaches out, fingers lightly sweep across the chest of his shirt as she brushes between them, and sonders down the sidewalk. Only one of the three bystanders catches a glimpse of her Mona Lisa smile.
"Her name is Esmeralda Jackson." Leaning his back and one foot against the red brick building that faces the busy city street, Bobby Joe Benson fishes in this shirt pocket for a crumpled soft pack of American Spirit cigarettes.
"Damn!" he says in a low almost whining tone, as he gently taps one of few remaining cigarettes in the pack, and raises it to his dry cracked lips.
"She's one brassy lady with a heart of gold. Packs everything she owns in that raggie old pack sack." His right hand digs deep in his dirty military camouflage pants pocket searching among his own carried treasures. He straightens his arm then bends his elbow, expertly opening the brushed silver zeppo against his thigh. The familiar "click" is a second ahead of the flame... the lighter raises to meet the unfiltered cigarette. In a cloud of gray smoke Bobby Joe's up-turned chin motions toward a short wiry person walking against the crowd.
"That was a woman?" says a young office worker. His white shirt and tie are spotless, the puzzled look on his face, priceless. The girl hanging on his arm snuggles closer for assurance, comfort against a gust of icy wind.
"You better get her home, she looks like she seen a ghost."
Bobby Joe casually returns the zippo to his pocket and steps away from the wall.
Down the alley behind a overflowing dumpster, a man on his hands and knees retches several times before spueing the contents of his stomach on the concrete. Another man lay face down not moving.
"Go on now, I'll take care of those two. They won't be bothering you, or anybody again. You get her home where she's safe."
"What was her name again? I didn't get a chance to thank her, it all happened so fast."
Gusts of wind carring the smell of fried grease from the large rotating fan above the Chinese restaurant's back door reminds Bobby Joe he hasn't eaten in several days.
"Her name is Esmeralda Jackson. Sergeant Major Esmeralda Jackson, now go on, get out of here." The tone of Bobby's voice changes to a low growl of authority.
Pulling on the young man's arm, the young woman is pleading in her body language. The couple quickly walk down the street, hailing a cab that pulls to quickly to the curb.
Bobby's smile fades, his eyes redden as he walks into the shadows and towards the man on his knees. With teeth gnashing he takes the last puff of cigarette, and flicks the butt against the alley wall.
"Thank you Ms. Jackson for tenderizing my tenderloin."
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