by Tripp Ellis
"Thank you." I still wasn't sure where she was going with this.
Her cheeks flushed, and she fidgeted nervously. She looked like she was starting to sweat. She fanned herself with her hand. "It's a little hot out here, isn't it?"
"What are you getting at?”
"I'm just saying. I work a lot. Long hours. Stressful situations. It's not really conducive to a relationship.” Then she stammered, “So, I was thinking maybe we could have a… friends with benefits type arrangement?”
"Benefits?" I said. "You mean, like a 401(k)?"
She was uncomfortable, and I wanted to see her squirm.
Her eyes narrowed at me.
"If you're not interested, I'm sure I can find someone else who’s more than willing to satisfy my needs."
"I didn't say I wasn't interested."
"Good. It's settled." She smiled and went back to her salad like we had been talking about the weather.
"So, what are the rules?"
"Rules?"
"Yeah, because, you know, these things have a tendency to get… sticky."
"If done correctly,” she said with a devious grin.
"You know what I mean."
She paused and took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm not stupid. You’re a good looking guy, and I know you have a lot of options. I don't want to get hurt. So I'm not even going to put that on the table. You want rules? I'll give you rules. No feelings. No L words. No surprise visits. No jealousy. No questions. We do this as long as it's fun. And we call it off when one of us loses interest. No big deal."
I looked at her, astonished. "And I don't have to pay you?"
She scowled at me playfully and smacked my bicep with her palm. "Like I said, if you don't think you can handle an arrangement like that, I'm happy to find some other guy with a big dick that can."
"I don't have any objections. I’m all aboard, Captain.” I paused for a moment, then added. "You said big."
Her eyes narrowed at me. "Do not get cocky."
I flashed a confident grin. I felt like I had died and gone to no commitment heaven. It sounded too good to be true. These situations rarely worked in the long term, but it would be an interesting ride for a while.
Kim returned with our entrées. "Enjoy your meal."
25
Reggae music filtered through the air as I stepped into Breakwater. I had waited until the evening to stop by and see if Chloe had made it to work. The afternoon crowd was thinning out, and the late night crowd hadn't arrived yet. I took a seat at a cocktail table near the bar. Within a few minutes, a waitress sauntered up and asked for my order.
"Is Chloe here?"
"Yeah, I think so. You want me to send her over?”
"Please."
"Sure thing." She spun around and sauntered away.
A few moments later, Chloe approached the table. We had met a few times before, but I wasn’t sure she’d recognize me out of context. She had platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, and full lips. ”Drinking alone tonight?"
"Actually, I'm looking for Scarlett."
Her smile faded. "I don't know where she is."
"I think you do."
"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. But I don't have to tell you."
She started to turn away but I stopped her. I put a $100 bill on the table. "You haven't taken my drink order yet."
She huffed, and her eyes narrowed at me. "What do you want?"
"Service with a smile?" I asked tentatively.
She forced a smile, but her eyes threw daggers. "If Scarlett's your friend, you'll let me help her."
"You guys are making way too much of a deal out of this."
"You both got arrested and charged with felony possession. That's a pretty big deal."
She looked around, a little embarrassed. "Why don't you say that louder? I don't think anybody else heard you."
"Tell me where Scarlett is and you can keep the change."
"I don't need your money."
"With the charges you're facing, I think you could use every penny you can get your hands on. Legal fees aren't cheap."
"I didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't mine. And my parents are paying my legal fees.” Her snotty face crinkled with irritation.
“Okay. I'll play along. So it wasn't yours. Where’d you get it?"
"I'm not saying anything without my attorney. I mean, you're a cop, aren't you?"
"Deputy Sheriff. It’s temporary."
"Then I am definitely not talking to you.”
She spun around and stormed away, leaving my crisp clean hundred dollar bill on the table top.
I watched as she moved to the bar and spoke with her manager. She pointed in my direction, and I knew what was coming next. The big guy strolled toward me with an angry face. He was a barrel chested man that looked like he'd thrown his fair share of patrons out of the bar. He towered over me. “My waitress says you're harassing her."
“Just asking a few questions."
"She says you grabbed her ass. I think it's time for you to get out of here before I call the cops."
I felt like now was the appropriate time to flash my badge.
“Do you drug test your employees here?"
"No. This is a bar. I don't care what they do on their free time. But I'll make sure she files a complaint with your department."
"I'm sure they'll take the word of an accused felon over mine."
His face scrunched up. "Accused felon?"
"Didn’t she tell you. The reason she hasn’t been at work for the last few days is because she was arrested for possession of cocaine."
He grimaced and looked over his shoulder at her.
"If I were you, I'd be careful who you hire. Cash has a habit of going missing around addicts.” I smiled. "Have a nice evening."
I pushed away from the table and strolled toward the exit.
I stepped out of the bar and onto the sidewalk and waited for a moment, watching the tourists walk up and down the crowded avenue, hopping from bar to bar. It was a weeknight, so there wasn’t as much traffic as on the weekends. But Coconut Key was a tourist destination—there were always crowds. There were always people looking to blow off steam.
Five minutes later, Chloe emerged from the bar, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her face was red and puffy. Rage boiled in her veins the moment she saw me. She marched to me and smacked me in the arm. "You got me fired, you fucking asshole!"
I admit, it was kind of a dick move, but I needed answers from her. "You just assaulted an officer."
Her face twisted with anger. "What?"
"You just hit me. That is assault and battery."
"What's the matter? You can't take a punch from a girl?"
"Tell me where I can find Scarlett, and you don’t spend another night in jail."
She clenched her jaw and growled through gritted teeth. "I hate you!”
"Where is she?”
"She's with Justin. On his boat, Miss Conduct.”
I rolled my eyes. “Where?”
"Pirates Cove. Happy?"
I smiled. "See. Wasn’t that easy?"
"I hope you get hit by a bus." She scowled at me and stormed away.
I chuckled. "It was nice talking to you."
She craned her neck over her shoulder, gave me a dirty look, and raised her middle finger.
26
I strolled down the dock at Pirates Cove, looking for Miss Conduct. Boats creaked, and riggings clanked.
I caught sight of Justin’s boat. It was a 40 foot performance sailboat—a Vanguard X-144. It was sleek and refined, and had luxurious live-aboard accommodations. Its hull was infusion molded. It was a cruiser/racer and couldn't have been more than a few years old. It was easily a $500,000 boat, and if I had to wager a guess, Justin's father had bought it for him.
Amber light filtered through portals in the main cabin. The muffled sound of music echoed across the marina, along with voices.
I heard Scarlett.
I stood on the dock beside the por
t side of the sailboat and called to her. "Scarlett. It's Tyson. Can you come out here?"
The voices stopped.
There was a long pause.
"Scarlett, I know you're in there."
A few moments later, the hatch opened, and Scarlett poked her head out. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?"
"I'm not going to rehab. He can't make me go."
"No, but if you voluntarily check yourself into a rehab facility, stay on the straight and narrow, maybe your attorney could get a good plea deal?"
"I told you. It wasn't mine."
"Okay. For the sake of argument. Let's say it wasn't yours. That's irrelevant. You've been charged. And you’ll have to fight it. I don't think you’re quite aware of what's ahead of you. And how this could impact the rest of your life."
She rolled her eyes.
"It's a felony, Scarlett. You won’t be able to vote.”
“So, they all suck anyway.”
“You won’t be able to own a gun. You'll have a hard time getting jobs. It will follow you forever."
Justin slid past her and stepped into the cockpit. "Hey, buddy. I think she made it pretty clear that she doesn't want you here. She can make her own decisions. Why don't you get lost?"
My body tensed, and I bit my tongue. This punk kid was maybe 19 or 20. I probably shouldn’t smack him. "Justin, is it?"
"What part of get the fuck out of here did you not understand?" he barked.
"I don't remember involving you in this discussion. So why don’t you go back into the cabin and let me and Scarlett talk this out?”
"I'm getting sick of listening to you yammer." He stepped to the port gunwale, puffing his chest, staring me down, attempting to be some kind of bad ass.
He was a muscular guy. Fit. Athletic.
But he had no clue what he was getting himself into. He flashed his perfect teeth and had a cocky grin on his lips. "I'm gonna tell you one more time to leave. If you don't. Things are gonna get ugly."
"You're goddamn right they are."
"Justin, let me talk to him," Scarlett said.
"I'm done talking," Justin said.
He reached under his shirt and pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed it at my head. His hand trembled slightly as the rush of adrenaline washed through his body. "Still want to talk to Scarlett?"
"Why don't you put the gun away before you get hurt."
The muscles in his jaw flexed. Even with the gun, he was an insecure loser.
"Okay. Fine. I'm gone,” I said, raising my hands, innocently.
He relaxed slightly, and I took the opportunity to strike. Like lightning I grabbed the barrel with one hand and his forearm with the other. I twisted the weapon 180°, snapping his finger in the trigger guard. In a flash, I had the weapon in my possession. He whined like a little bitch and doubled over.
I pressed the mag release button, dropped the magazine into my palm, and tossed it into the water. Then I ejected the round from the chamber. It clattered against the deck, and rolled into the abyss. "Why don't you take a walk and let me finish my conversation?”
Scarlett stared with wide eyes, her hands over her mouth.
Justin decided to get brave. He stood up and swung a left hook. He had some power behind his punch. It would have hurt, if it had connected. But his fist whooshed an inch in front of my nose.
I grabbed his forearm pulling him aside, while simultaneously hammering a fist into his rib cage.
He groaned as the air escaped his lungs, and his torso twisted around my fist. Then I planted an elbow into his nose. Bones crackled, and blood splattered.
He wailed in pain as he dropped to the deck, crimson blood speckling the white fiberglass hull.
“Permission to come aboard?” I asked, mockingly. I lifted my finger to my ear and bent it. “Permission granted? Thank you.”
I climbed over the gunwale as Justin writhed on the deck. I took Scarlett by the arm. “We’re leaving.”
She glared at me for a moment. “Okay. Wait. I need to get my purse.”
She ducked back into the cabin. I stood by the hatch, watching her as she grabbed a small clutch and stepped back to the cockpit. I helped her off the boat and marched her down the dock.
I called JD and told him to pick us up. We waited in the parking lot.
Scarlett fidgeted nervously. She sniffled and rubbed her nose several times.
I looked into her eyes. “Are you high?”
“No.”
My eyes narrowed at her. I gave her a look that said you better start telling me the truth.
“Maybe a little.”
I deflated, disappointed. “What happened, Scarlett? Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes brimmed. She threw her arms around me and sobbed. “I’m sorry, Tyson.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your dad.”
A few minutes later, JD’s red Porsche pulled into the parking lot, and the engine purred alongside us. I had never seen JD look so relieved in his entire life.
I held the door open for Scarlett and she slipped into the passenger seat.
“I was worried sick about you,” JD said.
“I’m sorry,” her eyes still wet and growing wetter.
The two hugged each other.
“I’m taking you right now to the facility. I called ahead. They’re waiting for us. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Scarlett nodded.
JD’s concerned eyes flicked to me. “I owe you one, brother.”
“No, you don’t.”
27
I caught a cab back to Diver Down. There were a few regulars, and a handful of tourists. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey.
“Any luck with Scarlett?” Madison asked.
“Yeah. I found her. JD’s taking her to rehab now.”
Madison breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great. I hope she can get her shit together.”
“Me too.”
“Look, I’m sorry I gave you a bunch of shit earlier.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to you having a low opinion of me.”
She gasped. “That’s not true.”
“Yes it is.”
She squinted at me. “Okay, maybe I said a few things that I shouldn’t have. Jumped to conclusions prematurely.”
I reveled in her pseudo-apology with a cocksure grin on my face.
“Have you found out anything more about Mom and Dad?”
“No. I’ve had my hands full. But if I can find out who XC is, maybe that will bring me closer.”
“What about the person who bought the boat?”
“That could have been a falsified sales receipt. Besides, it would be unlikely that he had any knowledge of where the boat came from.”
“It might be worth a shot. Leave no stone unturned.”
“Yes, boss.”
I sat at the bar, sipping whiskey, watching the people, going over Kingston’s case in my mind. Everywhere I went, I was looking over my shoulder.
I always made sure I took a seat where I could see the entrance. I plotted my exit routes. Looked for cover. Watched for anyone suspicious. It was standard operating procedure for me. But knowing that someone was out there trying to kill me, made me a little more vigilant. Over time, it made even mundane activities seem exhausting.
“You still keep a shotgun handy under the bar?” I asked.
Madison nodded.
“I want you to start carrying 24/7. You’ve still got Dad’s Sig, right?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to alarm you, or anything, but…”
“Okay, that’s alarming. The very fact that you have to preface your next sentence with that is causing me concern.”
“There have been two attempts on my life.”
Her eyes widened. “Recently? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to fr
eak you out.”
She huffed. “I’m a little freaked out.”
“Relax. I’ve got everything under control.”
“No you don’t. We just went through this. I’m not ready for this again.”
“Just keep your weapon with you at all times, and have good situational awareness.”
“Am I in danger?”
“Danger is a relative term. I mean riding in a car, flying in a plane, walking on the street… all dangerous.”
She scowled at me.
“You are way more likely to die on a bicycle then you are from a homicide.”
“I don’t have a bike,” she growled.
“See. Nothing to worry about.”
She clenched her jaw, and I could tell she wanted to spit fire at me. “Is this what it’s going to be like with you living around here? Constant chaos? All the time?”
“I promise, I don’t go looking for it.”
“Yes you do. You thrive on chaos.”
Madison had enough of the conversation. She spun around and tended to patrons on the other end of the bar.
Maybe she was right? Maybe I purposely made decisions that put me into chaotic situations? Maybe I was afraid of boredom? Or maybe I just shouldn’t try to psychoanalyze myself?
I got a text from Agent Archer. It read: [Want to punch my benefit card?]
I replied, Sure. Want to grab a drink?
[No. It’s a school night. Come over and clock in.]
So, I’m on the job?
[Yes. There will be a performance evaluation afterward].
I chuckled. I’ll be there in 20.
Agent Archer answered the door wearing a sheer négligée and smoldering eyes. The translucent fabric left nothing to the imagination. Her perfect curves and perky assets made my heart beat a little faster.
Agent Archer grabbed my shirt, bawled her fingers into a fist, and pulled me into the foyer. Our lips collided, and we embraced passionately.
She wasn't wasting any time.
I kicked the door shut behind me as we melted into each other. Sensual music filtered through the air. Scented candles flickered, bathing the house in a soothing amber glow.
My hands traced the curves of her body.
When we broke for air, Archer took my hand and led me to the bedroom. "It's been a long day. I need a back rub, and possibly a foot massage."
