Bruiser Casanova

The scraping of the long thick paddle against the sides of the metal tub seemed to sooth Benjamin Hudson eyes fixed casually at the thick greyish mess he was mixing. He could hear his friend, Drake whistling happily at his task in the middle of a room.

Beneath the hooded lights hanging from the covered jetty, five chairs had been lined up, two of them currently occupied by a man and a woman, both bound tightly their heads covered with a thick hemp burlap bag. The musky smell from the burlap filled Benjamin’s nose, not a particular strong smell barely registering in the stout ponderous protrusion bent and broken from several fights suffered for his current employer against many men and a few dames too.

Drake was tightening the last coil around the sobbing woman’s chest, cheerfully stepping back to admire his work.

“Hey, Bruiser,” he called out, passing a hand back through his slicked jet-black hair as he paused. “Ya got dat concrete ready for dis here broad?”

Drake’s eyes turned to him, accenting the narrow features of his head and face. Reminded Benjamin of a demon, or maybe the devil himself, but his roguish smile beneath a thin mustache drove those thoughts away. After all, he and Benjamin; or Bruiser as Drake like to call him, were buddies from their days serving in the AEF during the Great War. Combat formed a solid bond between them. The stench of battle, suffering under shot and shell while fighting and killing enemies together as comrades in arms served to develop the deep trust Benjamin felt for the wiry man.

“Yeah, Drake. It’s about ready to be poured,” he replied.

“Well den, bring it ov’ah, man. Sheesh, you’d think I need to do evah’ry thing?”

Benjamin shook his thick head smiling as he took up a bucket already streaked with layers of cement running down the sides, scooping out some of the concrete. His heavy steps thumped across the wooden floor and as he raised it up to pour, suddenly stopped.

Drake smirked. “What’cha wait’n for, Bruiser?”he asked.

Bruiser stared down into the tub where the woman’s bound feet sat waiting to be immersed in the viscous mixture. Quietly, he set the bucket down then knelt next to the woman.

“Say…uh would you mind if I take those new shiny shoes of yours?” he asked her.

Drake’s expression dropped. He peered down into the tub at the pair of black Mary Janes desperately squirming against the thick coarse rope holding her ankles together.

“What! Are you bonkers or som’in!” he shouted swatting the newsie cap off Benjamin’s head.

“No,” replied Benjamin as he retrieved his prized possession from the floor. “It’d be a shame to let those go down to bottom of the ocean. They look like they’d fit Mitzy’s feet.”

A desperate muffled cry came for the woman, struggles increasing in the chair. “Shadd-up, you!” shouted Drake and her moans lowered beneath muffled sobs.

Drake couldn’t believe his friends’ words. “Mitzy…you wanna give her a pair of shoes from a dead woman?”

A new round of moans echoed though the air, but Drake ignored it.

Timidly, Benjamin began fidgeting with a button on his shirt. “Well…yeah.” He looked up at Drake a boyish grin breaking out on his face. “Can I ask you some’in, Drake?”

“Questions?” his arms gestured around at their surroundings. “Ya’think we have time for questions now Bruiser?”

“Well, I want to marry Mitzy, and…and I want to know what you think about it?” answered Benjamin.

“Marry!” exclaimed Drake. He stepped back, staring at Benjamin then let out a hoot of laughter. “Jump’in Johusaphat’s and call me a cab! Marry!”

“Yeah, I wanna marry her.”

That stopped Drake, but only for a moment. “We’ll I’ll be a crushed tomatah in’a stew pot. Bruiser, you think we got time ta’ talk about things like dat now?”

“Why not?”

“We got ‘tree more chuckleheads in the trunk to fix up and dip before daylight, and you wanna talk about get’n hitched?”

A sad pout appeared causing Drake to think he had hurt his friend. Damnit, he cursed himself not wanting to insult Bruiser’s feelings. After all, he was the best friend he ever had in his life.

“Bruiser,” called Drake, “Okay. Let’s pour the foundation on this one and while we’s is fix’n up the other losers, we can ‘discuss’ your future intentions while we finish this job.”

Cheered, Benjamin picked up the bucket, apologizing to the woman as he poured the concrete into the tub…