The Grace Bay Agreement Page 4
“There you are,” he said, snatching the cube shaped black bag. Easy to overlook a small black bag in a black baggage compartment.
Another twenty-five dollar cab ride and he was back at the resort.
He asked the girl at the front desk to call Joan’s room.
“Hi, Joan. I found your make-up case. OK, I’ll be right up.”
Pete asked directions to room D1244, and the clerk pulled out a small map, drew some lines on it, and gave it to him. He followed the directions out of the main building and around the huge pool and outdoor bar to the newest building of the complex. He boarded the elevator and pushed the button to the twelfth floor.
A minute later he knocked on the door and it swung open. The petit woman wore a short silk robe, dirty-white with a purple oriental motif. It displayed her cleavage and long legs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Merkam. I’ll come back.”
“Nonsense. I was just going to the pool when I realized I forgot my make-up bag. I need my sunscreen. I’m not very tan. See?” She pulled up the left hem so that he could see even more of her alabaster thigh. He tried not to stare, but she took his breath away. She held out her hand, and he realized that she wanted the bag.
“Oh. Yeah. Here it is.”
He held out the bag, but she took his wrist instead and dragged him into the magnificent suite. She shut the door and before he realized it, she gave him a big hug. He felt her body flatten against his, and just by reflex, he dropped the make-up bag and put his arms around her. She turned her head and it fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder, and they held each other for a moment.
“Hmmmm. This is nice. I wanted to thank you properly for getting my bag.”
“Joan, we can’t.” He eased her away until he held her back at arm’s length.
“My husband’s out with the finance guys and won’t be back for several hours.”
“That’s not it. I work for your husband.”
“I understand. I admire your…whatever. But I am grateful for you getting my bag. At least let me give you a little kiss.”
Pete didn’t know how it happened, but her mouth found his and their arms wove around each other’s bodies. His head swooned. With some difficulty, he disengaged himself.
“Joan, you’re a beautiful woman. But…”
“Not beautiful enough,” she cut him off with a playful laugh.
“That’s not it at all. I just can’t be involved with the boss’s wife.”
“Alright, Mr. Hard-to-Get. We’ll see how this plays out. Will I see you at the pool?”
He just smiled and rushed for the door. As he closed it, he heard her say, “See you, honey.”
*****
“Do you realize it’s almost six o’clock? Let’s go find a place to get a beer,” Bob said.
They wandered down the stairs enjoying the cool evening breeze, and followed the arrows on the signs that said “BAR”. Pete kept silent about Joan, trying to figure out a way to keep away from her. After a short walk around the pool, they entered a large open air bar with a thatch roof. Taking a table just under the edge of the roof, they had a clear view of the pool and full view of the bar depending on which way they turned their heads.
“Two Miller Lites,” Bob called out before the waiter could even make it across the room. The young man turned on his heel, and reappeared in ten seconds carrying two long neck bottles.
“This is the life,” Bob said. Both pilots looked around the bar. There were a few older couples around the juke box, but lots of empty tables. Two women were playing eight-ball at the back of the bar. One was in her forties, the other looked about five years younger. They saw the two men, gave each other a glance, and then each smiled. Together they put down their cues and walked over to the small table where Bob and Pete sat open-mouthed.
“Hi, my name is Connie,” the older one said sticking out her hand.
“And I’m Lillian,” the younger one added.
They shook hands all around, but the men remained silent as they tried to take in the event. Pete took a mental picture of the women. Connie had short black hair and an obvious New York accent. Lillian’s long blonde hair cascaded down her back.
This might be the most interesting woman I’ve ever seen, Pete thought. He noticed she had the same attraction for him. Then he saw Jean’s face darken.
“Hey, you two aren’t gay are you?” She turned to Lillian. “Just our luck. The only two single men here and they’re gay.”
Pete locked eyes with Lillian, and there seemed to be an instant communication. She understood he wanted her to stay without Pete saying anything. He found that supremely attractive. Lillian put her hand on Connie’s arm, and kept her from turning away.
“Connie. Constance, these handsome men are obviously hetro. Just look at their eyes,” Lillian said.
“I’m Bob Ferrara. This is Pete Dolan. I want you women to know that we have had a long day flying over here from Texas,” Bob said. He took a swig from his beer.
“We need our rest, so right after this beer, we are going back to our rooms. And we don’t want you knocking on our door later trying to get in.” The women laughed, and Connie hit Bob on the shoulder.
“Stop it,” she said.
Lillian reached around, pulled up a chair and sat down close to Pete. Lillian had a swimmer’s body, athletic and slim. Connie was more ample and curvy. Both were attractive but in different ways. Lillian wore a one piece leopard skin bathing suit with a black wrap around her waist. Jean also had on a one piece suit, but it was all black. Both women were barefoot.
“What brings you guys to Provo?” Connie asked.
“We’re pilots on a corporate jet. Our passengers are spending some time here, and we have to suffer through it,” Bob quipped. At the word ‘pilots’, the two women exchanged glances.
“We were starting to get worried,” Connie said. “We came here looking for a good time. Lillian and I went to college together in New York. She lives in Washington State, and I’m from New York City. We keep in touch, and decided to take our vacation together down here.
“But everyone in this resort is married; either on honeymoons, or retirement trips. When we complained to the social director, he only laughed and said, ‘This place is for the newlywed or nearly dead.’ We’d almost lost hope.”
They all shared a big laugh. Pete felt more at peace than he had for several years.
“But now, with you guys here, we’re going to have a great time. Do you salsa?” Connie asked.
“Of course, I do,” Bob answered.
Pete’s head filled with a terrible vision of fat Bob trying to dance salsa.
Lillian leaned close to Pete and softly said, “Are you married?”
“Divorced. And you?”
“Same,” she said. He reached under the table and took his hand in hers. Connie and Bob talked non-stop as they got up and moved toward the pool.
I’ve never met a woman that had this kind of effect on me, Pete thought. It’s always been easy to chat up a woman before. Why am I so stupid around this one?
“I don’t know why I’m so tongue tied around you,” Pete said.
“We kinda bushwacked you guys,” she said. She smiled, and Pete noticed her crooked front tooth. It only made her more beautiful. She moved her long blonde hair back over her shoulder with her left hand.
“Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” Pete asked, proud that he could finally get out a lucid sentence. The twilight faded and the sky turned black with light gray clouds riding a breeze.
They started walking, still holding hands, and headed downhill toward the beach. When the sidewalk played out, the sand dragged at Pete’s shoes.
“Wait a minute. Let me take these off.” He pulled off his shoes, stuffed his socks inside, and rolled up his pants to just past the ankles. They started up the beach, right at the water’s edge, holding hands, with Pete carrying his shoes in his other hand.
“So what do you do in Washington
?” Pete asked.
“I run a plumbing company in Walla Walla.”
“Really! I don’t think I’d have guessed that a gorgeous woman like you would be cleaning out sewers.”
“My husband started the company, and built it up to twenty-five trucks specializing in simple, retail type stuff. You know, broken water faucets, leaks, plugged sewer pipes, water heaters. The guys carry most parts on their truck, even a water heater. They’re trained to sell add-ons to every job, and they get a commission for those.
“When he left me for his young secretary, he left me the business in the settlement. Real mid-life crisis. Bought a sailboat, and they were going to sail around the world. But, you know, reality strikes eventually. He ran out of money, and she left him. He sold the sailboat in San Diego and is working as a plumber, trying to get enough money together to start another plumbing business.”
“Sounds like you keep up with him pretty close.”
“Well, he’s still the father of my son. He calls every week.”
“I’ve got a daughter. She’s seventeen. My wife and I split a few months ago. I was working flying a lot. Gone for a couple or three days every week. She met someone at work… Well, you know the rest.”
She squeezed his hand. They walked along in comfortable silence enjoying the sound of the surf, the cool breeze, and the warm sand. It made for the perfect romantic walk. Then the moon popped up in front of them, huge and dark yellow. Its light set the bottoms of the clouds aglow.
“This is magic,” she said.
As if they shared one mind, they stopped and turned toward each other. Pete’s hand went around her slim waist, and he pulled her into him, aware of her ample breasts against his chest. Slowly they kissed.
“That was pretty good,” she said. “Perhaps we need to practice a bit more.”
After two more tries, Pete put his hand in her hair and pushed her head over onto his shoulder.
“I’m not like most women, you know.”
Pete laughed.
“No, really. Most women will tell you they know if they’ll be in love forever with a man after the first kiss. Now, I’m one that thinks that a man can learn to kiss well.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m willing to give a man a second chance.”
“Are you, now?”
They kissed again. He held her tight.
“You’re doing better, but I can see you’re gonna need to practice.”
Pete threw back his head and laughed. “I love a woman who can make me laugh.”
They continued walking towards the moon.
*****
Jimmy Rooker ambled into the VIP Lounge and first noticed the classy leather furniture and the smell of cigars. Then he saw the Minister of Finance with a cocktail in front of him and the bodyguards seated at a table in the back. The Minister and his body guards were all dressed in expensive dark suits, with button down shirts and dark red or blue ties. Jimmy felt almost naked in his silk pull over, blue jeans, and boat shoes with no socks.
Where is Wilson? he thought. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Walking toward the Minister, Jimmy turned to the bartender and softly ordered a “Cuba Libre”.
“Minister Hughes. I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any formal attire. When I was told that we were going to be at a resort….”
“Nonsense, my boy,” the Minister said. “We are dressed this way because we only now came from the office. You are just fine.” He had a deep, melodious voice with an educated British accent.
“Now, is this the first time you’ve visited our lovely islands?”
“Yes sir. I’m a Kansas boy, and I’ve only been out of the US a couple of times.”
“Well, we shall have to arrange for you to have a full tour of our little piece of paradise.”
Wilson and Joan Merkam walked through the doors in matching white polo shirts and white shorts. Jimmy was relieved. Wilson and Joan sat down and shook hands all around. He ordered a Vodka Collins (“Grey Goose Vodka, only, please”) and she a margarita.
“Minister Hughes, tell me how you got to the important post of Minister of Finance,” Wilson said.
The Minster laughed, deep and majestic. What a voice, Jimmy thought. He could make a fortune as a voice for commercials.
“You must call me Gerard, no? We are a small country, and I was lucky enough to be chosen for a scholarship to public school in England. I spent ten years there, all told. After I returned, I felt it only proper that I enter public service to help my people develop and prosper. First I was an attorney, and later I stood for city council.” Wilson nodded, listening attentively.
“And were you married during this time?” Joan asked. The Minister laughed and began telling the story of his courtship and marriage. Jimmy could feel the vibrations of Minster Hughes’ rich voice against his chest.
The small talk continued through two more rounds of drinks. Joan and Wilson showed their mastery of conversation, already knowing the history of the island country, its form of government, the important hurricanes, and Turks and Caicos’ most famous resident, Ernest Hemmingway.
When Wilson excused himself to go to the restroom, Jimmy waited just a minute, excused himself and followed. Once inside, Jimmy stood at the urinal next to Wilson.
“When are we going to get down to business?”
“Be patient, my son,” Wilson said softly. “The first one to mention business is the loser. Remember, this man was educated in Europe. We won’t get down to any business until day after tomorrow, maybe tomorrow night. Enjoy yourself. This little vacation is already paid for.”
When they returned to the table, the tab had been settled, and the Land Rovers were outside waiting to take them to dinner aboard a chartered yacht.
Chapter Three
November 18, 1999
2200
The Island Jewel
One Mile Offshore
Grace Bay, Turks and Caicos
The Island Jewel, built in Italy just last year, wallowed a little in the evening swells. Her gleaming white color and sweeping lines gave one the impression that the ship was moving even when at rest. She measured one hundred and thirty feet long. With three large staterooms downstairs and a dining room, living room and pilot station on the main deck, she could host six in luxury. A manly décor of leather furniture, brass fittings, and teak and mahogany floors greeted the visitor and made him feel as if he had come home.
The group partied on the observation deck on the top level. Only one of the three big diesels burbled in the water as they slowly cruised around the island enjoying the lovely lights. The sea was smooth as a lake at dawn.
They had just finished a wonderful meal of grilled fresh fish served by two attractive females, the kind that large yachts seem to attract: Long blonde hair, athletic, and dressed in bright colored bikinis. Jimmy Rooker enjoyed a Romeo y Julieta cigar with the Finance Minister, Gerard Hughes, and his lawyer, Trevor Abbot. Wilson and Joan Merkam nursed their cocktails. The full moon provided all the illumination.
Everything is different in the islands. The food is better, the women are more beautiful, and the moon is brighter, Jimmy thought. I’ve got to be careful not to get lost down here.
“There is just something about a Cuban cigar,” Jimmy said, almost to himself. He held a brandy in his left hand, but he had been very careful to only sip his drinks all night. The cigar provided a welcome distraction from the alcohol. First, before dinner drinks, then wine with the main course, now brandy. Jimmy knew his limitation. He was one of those who could not hold his liquor. Three drinks and he would be drunk. Must be the Native American blood.
“Yes, it is a shame you cannot get these in the US,” Hughes said. He was paying scant attention to his cigar, and concentrating on consuming large quantities of his host’s single malt scotch.
“This is a great boat,” Wilson said. “I must get one.” Joan nodded and smiled. Jimmy could see she was drunk, but still able to hold herself together pretty well.
“When we conclude our business, we shall both be able to afford one of these,” Hughes said, staring into his tumbler of amber liquid. “Your infusion of capital will mean more jobs, better infrastructure, and, of course, some comfort for the leadership of our small country.” He smiled toward Wilson. Wilson lifted his martini in salute.
At last, we are going to get down to business, Jimmy thought.
“Have you had a chance to talk with your associates about our offer?” Wilson said. Jimmy admired the way that Wilson slid that comment in, almost as an afterthought. Wilson leaned back in his chair and stared at the lights on the shoreline.
“We have talked.” Gerard paused. He puffed his cigar, and both men let the silence build.
Jimmy wanted to ask something, say something. The silence was killing him. Gerard and Wilson both looked at the lights off the right side of the boat. Jimmy could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Every bit of experience told him that the first one to say anything now was going to be the loser in this exchange. Two long minutes passed in silence. The only sound was Joan asking the yellow bikini for another margarita.
“When I get a boat like this, I think that I would prefer a displacement hull to this planing design,” Wilson said, still staring out. “I am not so much interested in speed, but comfort. And the displacement hull rides so much better, don’t you think?”
So Merkam bailed out first, Jimmy thought. Score one point for the Turks and Caicos team.
*****
After their walk, Pete and Lillian enjoyed a delicious meal at the outdoor restaurant on the south side of the resort. The guests were seated at large round tables where they were entertained by a dance company from Brazil. Then Pete and Lillian each went back to their rooms to shower and change.