CHAPTER NINE
Outside Looking Out
The view from the seaside outhouse made one feel regal, as if occupying the finest throne in a most picturesque kingdom. Through the slats to the left, under a bright morning sun, I watched as neighborhood kids chose teams for a pickup game of soccer. A knothole on my right void of the darkened oval once filling its space afforded a lovely view of the beach, where presently a mother walked her two toddlers, their toes splashed by the waves greeting the shoreline.
Beyond this visage lay the Pulpo Malhumorado itself, listed to one side and firmly secured to a heavy piece of driftwood. No pier or wharf served Jack and his rig, as the man chose to live in a simplistic and unentangled way -- one he qualified with an introduction of select technology into his idyllic life.
"¿Las habas y el arroz?" Jack asked, bearing a slight smile. Wearing nothing but shorts, he sat on the shaded back porch of his home, legs outstretched and bare feet dug in the sand, an unlit stogie dangling between his fingers.
"No, no, my good man. Breakfast was just fine." Indeed, Jack's sunrise blend of beans and rice hit the spot. "Just catching up with the world."
"Yes. Your phone ring twice while you were away on jury duty," he replied, nodding toward the outhouse.
Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I seated myself on an unsteady stool and lifted the brim of my beaten porkpie. "Jack, I appreciate your hospitality, I really do. The rescue. The lodging. Using your outlets and electricity to charge my mobile and laptop. Your food. The outhouse. How can I ever repay you?"
"Money. Cold, hard cash." He grimaced as one of the goalies made a stunning save off a close header. "Answer your phone. It has a nice jingle."
"I'll call my personal assistant in a moment. I can assure you your bill will be paid in full. However, there are a few additional favors I need."
"See those kids play football? They play it because of me. I care for them. I make sure they have a ball to kick and shoes to run in."
"Duly noted, Jack. I'll be sure to include a donation in their name along with your compensation."
"That woman on the beach over there?"
"Your daughter and grandchildren?"
"The mother of my children walking my children."
"Jack!" I gulped, scrambling to deliver a compliment, "life is agreeing with you here on your, your, your --".
"Peninsula."
"Exactly! And I'll gladly calculate your progeny into the compensation equation, as well."
"Don't forget the mother," he added wryly, wagging a finger in my direction. "Do not do that."
"And mother, too." I looked around to see if there were other relatives strolling into view. "In addition to stopping at an ATM on the way to the airport, I need to visit a Federal Express office. That wouldn't be an issue, would it?" My intention was to overnight the flash drive and Angel's note back to Tumultuous Manor for safekeeping, having made the decision earlier while under the glow of orange candlelight in Jack's comfortable though modest home.
Los Angeles would provide one final crack at harnessing Bridgework to Sondheim's sleigh. I owed it to myself, Angel and Sondheim to head off the financier at the next port where -- with careful planning -- the advantage would be mine. My revamped travel strategy, however, was contingent upon a successful connection with one of my longstanding southern California chums.
"My son attend Cornell in New York."
"So you said," I smiled, briefly wondering how I would slip a year's tuition past Sondheim on my expense sheet. "Planning to be a veterinarian."
"Si, darn right. He turn down Dartmouth."
"He did, did he?" It was cheap, vicarious revenge upon the College on the Hill for rejecting me, but it was revenge nonetheless. "Say, Jack, I've taken an immediate liking to your boy."
"Better hockey at Cornell."
"You don't say."
"Si. Kurwenal has full ice hockey scholarship. He's a good boy."
"Kurwenal? Ice hockey?" I supposed neither the name nor association with the sport was impossible. "Where'd he learn that?"
"The boys," Jack said, ignoring my question and pointing to the soccer game, "will need new skates this year. All sizes."
A quick headcount indicated I needed to add fourteen pair of CCMs to my lifesaving room service bill.
"Jerseys would help, too."
"I was just arriving at that very point." Finally, the value of life was being quantified. "Perhaps if I phone my home office right now, we can begin the balance of our day?"
"Goal!" Jack yelled, raising his arms and waiving to the mother of his children, who smiled broadly at him from the beach.
Baril de Singes [Barrel of Monkeys] Page 25
