by Thomas Pluck
“Know anything about pirates?”
“Only what I’ve seen in movies.”
Lafitte rolled his eyes.
“This map belonged to a bona fide pirate, not some Hollywood wannabe. His name was Captain Edward Aurora.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Hardly anybody has, outside of North Carolina. You know about Blackbeard?”
“Of course.”
“Captain Aurora was a lot bigger, and twice as mean. He and a few other English sailors got shipwrecked on a Caribbean island when he was about eighteen. It took the Royal Navy a couple of years to find them, but he was the only one still alive when they did. His front teeth were filed into sharp points by then, and his blond beard was stained red with blood. They say he’d developed a taste for human flesh.”
“Holy shit. That’s amazing.”
“I know, and this was before Novocain. He joined a pirate crew a few months after he got back, and became captain during a bloody mutiny. They say he captured fifteen ships before he was hanged for treason three years later. This map supposedly leads to his buried treasure.”
“Really? Where?”
“Somewhere on Corcoran Island, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.”
They sat at the bar together for the next couple of hours. He spun the whole incredible tale while she eagerly nodded along. He said that small piece of parchment was part of a much bigger map, pointing out that it was the most important piece because of that letter X in the center.
“Look closely. It’s a tiny skull with crossed bones. Somebody finds the rest of that map and they’ll find the treasure.”
“Where’s the other half?”
“I’d start by looking in Stonehaven, if I was a younger man.”
His finger was still planted firmly on the map when Shayna finally looked up. She was surprised to see that Keely’s was filling up with a rowdy crowd. Georgia and Ida both looked like they were sleepwalking as they filled orders and drank themselves awake. Neither of them made eye contact with Shayna.
She turned back to speak with Lafitte, but he was already across the room hanging the map back on the wall. The bouncer was sitting on his stool instead. He looked her up and down, practically licking his lips.
“Hey, Shayna. I’ve got something for you.”
She craned her neck to look for the old man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Seat’s taken, Adam.”
“Was Lafitte telling you his pirate stories?”
“Be nice, asshole. He’s sweet.”
“Hey, now. You’re sexy when you’re mean.”
The bouncer reached into his leather jacket, producing an official-looking envelope. Part of Shayna wished it was another map, until she saw it was addressed to her. She reached for it, but he pulled it back at the last second.
“I thought that might get your attention, but I’ve got something even better.”
He reached into his other pocket, pulling out a tightly folded piece of paper. It was about the size of a matchbook and practically bursting with cocaine. She watched for a moment as he flipped it between his fingers like a magician would a coin—before fumbling it to the floor.
The bouncer leapt from his chair to recover the coke. Shayna took the opportunity to snatch the envelope from his outstretched hand. She spun on her barstool and sliced it open with her fingernail. The life insurance check inside was made out to her in the amount of three hundred thousand dollars.
She felt the bouncer’s hot breath on the back of her neck. He leaned in to put his arm around her shoulder.
“Damn, girl! You hit the lottery. Let’s celebrate.”
He waved the bindle under her nose. She tried to ignore him, but there was no doubt he’d gotten her attention.
Shayna looked over to where Georgia and Ida were mixing up cocktails and flirting with the pathetic regulars. She could clearly picture them doing the same thing, night after night, for the next twenty years. Then she imagined herself right there beside them, weathered, wrinkled and washed out. The thought of it made her skin crawl.
That’s when she made up her mind. It was definitely time to leave New Orleans, but not without a little going away party for two. Shayna grabbed the bouncer’s wrist and led him upstairs.
***
Her dreams teemed with pirates that night. She imagined wooden boats filled with swashbuckling men who swung from ropes with swords in their teeth. Buried treasure chests dotted the white sandy beaches of a thousand tiny islands, where palm trees swayed in the violent tropical breezes. Powder flashed from the flared muzzle of a blunderbuss as she wandered through the bloody battle in her tattered wench’s dress. Cannons erupted all around her, spitting out fire and filling the air with acrid smoke.
Smoke.
Shayna’s eyes shot open. The bouncer was passed out cold in the bed beside her. Strange voices were screaming downstairs. It felt too late for the bar to be open, but she was too disoriented to know for sure. The familiar scent of burning wood filled her nostrils. She tiptoed over to the bedroom door, cracking it open an inch or two.
A policeman was frantically waving his flashlight at the top of the stairs. The yellow beam danced across the tendrils of gray smoke that curled around his boots. He was yelling for everybody to get out of the building before it burned to the ground. She slammed the door shut, gathering her scattered clothes from the floor. It’s nearly impossible to put a thong on backwards, but Shayna almost managed to do so in her rush to get dressed.
She tossed the rest of her possessions into a bag and went over to the bed. Two chalky white lines were still laid out on the nightstand. She grabbed a rolled up dollar bill and polished them off. The bouncer’s pistol was there too, along with his keys and wallet. She fished a couple of hundred-dollar bills out, tucking them into her bra. She definitely didn’t need the money now, but that didn’t stop her from taking it.
She reached down, pinching his nostrils shut. It seemed like an eternity before he sprang up in a panic.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“There’s some kind of fire. Cops are all over place.”
He rubbed his eyes and jumped out of bed.
“This has Ida written all over it.”
Shayna opened the door, heading downstairs without looking back. Shadows dashed through the orange glow in the barroom. She hung a right at the bottom, hugging the wall until she reached the men’s bathroom. The boxy frame was still hanging right where Lafitte had left it. She pulled it from the hook, shoving it into her bag.
Fire trucks wailed down the street outside. Georgia and Ida were seated on the curb when Shayna finally emerged. Several policemen hovered around them, barking orders into their radios. The women’s faces twisted into horrible, forced smiles when they caught sight of her.
Georgia waved her over. Ida leaned forward when Shayna walked up; her voice was a scratchy hiss.
“See what you get when you sleep with my man?”
It was all too familiar for Shayna. She needed to get out of there before the panic took over. There was no way she could be associated with another fire without somebody putting two and two together. Shayna might not have started this one with a match, but they could still trace the spark back to her.
She slipped by, making a beeline for her red convertible. It was parked across the street and down the block—far enough away from the commotion that it wouldn’t be blocked in by any emergency vehicles. She climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and stomped on the gas. There was nowhere for her to go, no place she had to be. Her head spun with the lonely possibilities, but the tank was full enough to get her out of town.
She looked down at her bag in the passenger seat. A corner of the frame was poking out like a tiny wooden arrow. She reached over and snatched it up, Lafitte’s final words running through her mind.
I’d start by looking in Stonehaven…
Shayna took the first on-ramp. She didn’t slow down until she crossed th
e North Carolina state line thirteen hours later. From there she only had to follow the road signs leading the way to “The Home of Captain Aurora.”
Back to TOC
