“Can I dare to ask you to cut him some slack and let the boys work it out themselves? I promise I will guide him as much as I can without interfering.” Nodding, Abby stood up, extending her hands to clasp both of his.
“I understand, Captain Cobby. I truly do. Scotty’s upbringing was not that different from Kane’s. Maybe if they each knew that, things would be easier for them. I’ll leave the matter with you, after I have a talk with Scotty. Thank you for your time.” With that, she released his hands, smiling as he tipped his glass to her in agreement. Before leaving, Abby filled in a few details of Scotty’s loveless relationship with his father and their parents’ subsequent divorce. Comfortable with their understanding, Abby allowed the captain to give her a hand across the plank to the dock. With a grateful smile and a wave, she walked back to the house, the moon guiding her path. She marveled at how everyone seemed to have a story of strife and pain. She wasn’t the only one. Feeling refreshed, she began to look forward to Jose’s return with Mama Diaz and the girls.
That night, Abby’s restlessness fought with her desire to sleep. She opened her eyes, noticing it was past midnight. The moon made her uneasy, a quiet crescent gazing into her bedroom window like a peeping Tom hoping to catch her unaware. The shadows of the palm trees, backlit and morphing the yard into an eerie vista of lurking creatures unnerved her. Why couldn’t she settle down? Her glance lingered on Jose’s empty spot in the bed. She leaned over, breathing in the familiar musky smell of his fur, finding it reassuring. Rolling back to her side of the bed, she wrapped her hands around the cool cotton sheet, drawing it under her chin as she scrunched herself into a fetal position, her mind flashing a kaleidoscope of memories, hoping to latch on to a soothing one that would lull her to sleep. Feeling her budding wings cramp underneath her, she gave up.
Rising, she shambled over to the windows, her sleeplessness leaving her feeling drugged and lethargic. Rubbing her temples and shaking out her wings, she flexed her tail. Perhaps her sleeplessness had something to do with her mind’s unconscious attempt to avoid reliving the reoccurring nightmare she’d been having for several weeks now. The memory of the nightmare sent shivers down her evolving backside, causing her tail to stir reflexively.
Without warning, she found herself viewing her nightmare as she stood at the window fully awake. She observed herself standing in a deserted parking lot in front of an iron grill, bent and misshapen, the stanchions under which millions of children and adults passed in their quest to discover where the famous The Bronx Zoo housed their favorite wild creature, no longer supporting its proud sign. She scanned the soundless trees, denuded of life. They appeared as if they had been flattened by a giant fist, pummeling them from the gray and wintry sky. She looked off to the blank horizon, the most famous skyline in the world gone. Devastation. She felt the bitter cold seep through her golden fur, flakes of dirty brown snow slowly, soundlessly, covering her thick golden hair, even as she somehow knew it was the middle of summer.
She turned back to the ruined zoo, an irresistible compulsion. Without warning, she discovered herself floating over the crumbling exhibits on the zoo’s decimated grounds. Formerly home to the many innocent creatures that found themselves captive to man’s misguided attempt to shape, control and destroy the lives of creatures he so hubrisly thought belonged to him. The vacant exhibits all contained ominous piles of bleached bone ash. All that remained of some of the most exquisite, bio-diverse and marvelous creations ever granted the rights to this planet by their maker. And again … brutally and ignobly destroyed by man.
She could feel glacial tears, freezing on her cheeks as her emotions oddly remained anesthetized. Finding herself descending to an exhibit, she read the signage proclaiming it to be the home of the magnificent Western Lowland Gorilla. The bitter irony was not lost on her, realizing their home never existed here. Sadly, home called from the vanished jungles and watery bias of Western Africa. These sentient gentle great apes were mothers and father, babies and youngsters; families. Just like Homo sapiens, for man was a great ape too. But better, of course. Man … the chosen one … he who shall inherit the earth. And once again, she noted frightfully to herself, Man destroyed.
Her eyes glazed as she noted the complete absence of color, life or warmth around her. The horizon was a palette of black and gray barrenness, benumbing ashen hopelessness and bone crushing godforsaken loneliness. What happened here? Such wanton destruction. Abby struggled, a sudden crush of emotions coalescing, too much to bear. Trying to break the grip of the tableau, she panicked, instinctively calling for her mother; begging for her mother. Out of her mind with grief and loss, she confused the emotions in her nightmare with the unresolved heartbreak of her mother’s abrupt absence from her life. Here, the nightmare always ended, leaving Abby a helpless wreck.
Without warning, Abby felt pulled away from the zoo. She beheld herself in a new and foreign environment, appearing to be a large cavern. Light shone but the source eluded her. She felt neither warm nor cold. An enveloping layer of something soft and undulating, exuding the smell of organic dampness clung to the walls of the cavern. How could she smell if she was dreaming?
Further down the cavern, a golden glow approached; a figure. Abby caught her breath, an unexplained premonition sending goose bumps down her arms. The emerging figure formed into that of a woman. The alluring vision glowed with the fine golden fur draping her body. Like Abby, she sported a long mature tail with a bulbous end floating languidly around her. Her golden white hair reached, full and glossy, down her back. A pair of exquisite wings framed her statuesque figure. From her hairline, emerged two gracefully crystal horns, swirling with silver and gold liquid. Her eyes sparkled with the colors of the rainbow. She smiled benevolently at Abby. With a start, Abby realized she looked familiar. She racked her memory but could not place the lovely face.
“My dear, we have not met. You are here because you have much to do. We are relying on you. You must save those you can. Time is short. We had hoped to do things differently. Man has conspired, fatally, to abort our plans. We must be quickly reactive. Gather the materials you need and do the best you can.”
“Madam, how am I to know what to do?” Approaching Abby, the woman placed her hand on Abby’s shoulder as her right horn split and peeled back, releasing a drop of liquid, its’ color flashing and filling the cavern. The woman held out her other hand to receive the drop. Reaching up to Abby’s ear she placed it inside. Disappearing, the flashing colors slowly faded as the drop moved deep into her ear. Abby’s eyes closed slowly. She blinked, her eyes closing again. They finally opened with a stoic acceptance of purpose and clarity realized.
“I understand completely. I hope to see you again soon,” Abby said. Taking Abby into her arms, the woman embraced her warmly.
“You will, my dear. Remember, you have Echo to aid you. I must send you back now.”
“Wait. Please, who are you? What shall I call you?” The vision began to recede. She found herself in her own bed, on the verge of waking. From a great distance, she heard the woman’s voice.
“I was once known as Netty Doyle, my dear. You may call me Netty.” Abby gently drifted deeply into a sound slumber, the details in her dream dissipating. She slept soundly.
Chapter 3
Peter pulled his BMW away from the parking lot at the Sarasota Airport. He waved to Jose who stood in line for the security bus to the checkin counter at the airport, ready to board a flight to Newark Airport that would hopefully reunite him with what was left of his family. Peter’s happiness for Scotty and Abby knew no bounds. He appreciated how long it took them to get this far.
As he drove back into town, he observed the night life in Sarasota preparing to heat up as the party hour approached, crowds thickening on the streets. Peter had sampled very little of it, even though, as a single man, the venues of bars and eateries were made to order. Some of the most predatory and beautiful women in the country flocked to Sarasota, hoping to land themselves a wealthy husba
nd. Those were the odds any self-respecting single man would celebrate. Even though he could now call himself well-off by most standards, he normally found himself reticent to join the nightly festivities of the crazy rich in this town that served as a bizarre escape from the reality of the rest of the country.
But tonight he wanted to flex his muscles. Perhaps his buoyant mood, inherited from Jose’s infectious happiness, portended a good omen. Taking a very deep breath, he decided. Tonight would be the night. He felt jazzed up and ready to go fishing for the ladies.
Driving down Main Street proved difficult. Traffic congestion continually hindered his efforts to find a parking place. By the time he found one, discouragement settled in, robbing him of his ebullient mood, leaking out like a punctured tire. His reluctance to enter any of the most boisterous bars overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to suck it up, he timidly selected one that appeared more discrete and subdued.
As he entered the bar, he relaxed, the atmosphere appeared quiet and nonthreatening, although clearly not the place most partiers wanted to be seen in. Definitely down scale. Oh well, it would do fine as a start for him. Scanning the bar, he noticed an empty stool between two other patrons. He started forward, the stool quickly taken by another man. As he stood deciding what to do, he noticed a couple of patrons giving him a quick once over, especially the woman. As his courage began to evaporate, one of the patrons stood up. A short dumpy man, motioned toward him, offering his seat. Well, that was sure kind. Peter turned to thank him, but the man ducked his face down, hurrying out the door before Peter could even open his mouth.
Getting comfortable on the bar stool, he ordered a glass of wine, then glanced at his reflection in the back bar mirror. His face looked even wider and more owlish than usual. But the mirror failed to hide the quiet, clean cut, timid man who was finally tired of being alone.
He sat sulking about his lonely life, ordering another glass of wine. A little liquid courage can’t hurt. As people were coming and going, he sat stiffly on his bar stool, unsure what to do next. Feeling discouraged, he felt a bump on the right side of his bar stool. A patron, the woman who had been staring at him, rose from her stool, getting ready to leave. She suddenly dropped her purse. Attempting to assist as she bent to retrieve it, they banged heads together.
“Ow.”
“Ouch.” Peter rubbed his head, looking up into the eyes of a pretty blonde woman, seemingly a few years older than him. Her nose scrunched up as she laughed heartily at her own clumsiness.
“I’m sorry, that’s so typical of me. I’m rather clumsy. Are you okay?” She extended her hand to grip his arm, rubbing softly to reassure him, an intimate gesture. Touched, Peter hastened to assure her of his recovery.
“May I insist you allow me to buy you a cocktail? Just so I can assure myself you’re fine?” Her smile so lovely, her manner so charming, he found himself instantly enticed. A pretty woman wants to buy me a drink. How do you like that? When you least expect it, something special comes your way. Looking into her relaxed and friendly face, he felt no qualms about spending time with her. All trace of nervousness disappeared. He began to relax and enjoy himself.
As the evening wore on, they discovered much in common; both from small towns, both professionals. When she found out he was an attorney, she could not resist inquiring into his intent to sue her for the knot on his noggin. She made him laugh, something unfamiliar to him.
Peter shyly suggested they have dinner together. He wanted to do anything he could to prolong their time together. He just loved how her blond curls shook as she laughed at his lame jokes. What a doll, he thought, enjoying how the glow of the bar lights made her eyes sparkle. They strolled down the street just like all the other happy couples, selecting a nice restaurant, sharing savory lobster and excellent champagne, frugality forgotten. Her hand lingered on his as she made an occasional point. Peter found himself grinning and laughing so hard his muscles started to ache.
Finally, they realized the night must end. Suggesting she walk him to his car, she pointed out the high-rise she lived in, easily within walking distance of the restaurant. After arriving at his BMW, he inquired as to whether he could call her for dinner again. Reaching into her purse, she scribbled her cell number, clearly pleased to be asked. Placing the note in his hand, she leaned over slowly, looked into his eyes and placed her lips over his for the softest kiss he swore he would ever feel.
“Good night, Peter. This was wonderful. I’ll look forward to hearing from you very soon.” Turning, she disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk. Left in a daze, he drove back to Bird Key. Pulling into his driveway, he remained in the car, reliving and savoring the evening. He glowed. Could she be any more perfect? Looking down, he stroked the note she left with him, admiring her handwriting. Ginger Mae Shrute 914-555-0436. How cool was that? And off he went to bed, sleeping better than he had in years.
###
Ginger Mae walked quickly to the hi-rise, not wanting Armoni to wait any longer than necessary. She knew he would be chewing his nails and spitting in anger because he almost got caught when he saw Peter walk in the bar, forcing him to make a hasty exit. They could not afford to have Peter recognize Armoni, even though they only met briefly, months ago. Armoni knew he made an indelible impression on people.
She shook her head, amazed at the irony of the situation. Dinning in elegant expensive bars and restaurants every night for months, trying to get a lead on Armoni’s enemies could easily become a drag. But how else could they hope to run into them? Sooner or later, they would show up to eat. Their very excellent plan to track them back to their house where Armoni could then reclaim his property failed to produce results. Not so excellent after all. They hadn’t counted on the one night they decided to go to a normal, relaxed watering hole, this sudden opportunity would drop right into their lap. Armoni would be very pleased with her results.
She sighed, watching laughing couples pass her on the sidewalk, arm in arm, enjoying each other’s company, just as she had enjoyed Peter’s. She felt a longing for the unfamiliar life of an upstanding citizen; wow, where did that come from? Had she gotten in over her head this time?
Her big plans for Armoni were slowly turning to ash. Sure, he took them to Florida, paying for everything, but he never let her out of his sight. That was not what she had in mind. And she could only handle his disgusting habits in small doses. She expected him to set her up in her own place, seeing her when he had the urge (she could handle that) and then get back to his life. But it appeared, he had no life. As a matter of fact, he seemed to want to turn her into his life. Ugh. Not going to happen. She hoped if she helped him recover his property, she could say goodbye and strike out on her own. The wealth and opportunity in Sarasota made her head spin. She could clearly see from the kind of men she met in the bars and clubs that she and Daisy would be well able to fend on their own, without the odorous Armoni.
But she must be clever. She came to the conclusion that Armoni kept mysterious secrets to himself. She began to suspect the veracity of his stolen property story.
And then there were his hygiene issues. A godly problem. He must have grown up with wolves. How one man could ignore simple baths, deodorant and oral care blew her mind. She finally reached the point where she could no longer eat around him for fear of vomiting. So she just drank instead.
Fortunately, his appetite for sex slowly mellowed. That’s bound to happen, as his attention was so focused on getting his property back, thank the Lord. And she must consider Daisy’s welfare. This is not a good environment for her. Ginger Mae regretted exposing her to Armoni, something she refused to do with her Johns. This must end, as soon as possible.
That’s why she said yes to dinner with Peter. She hoped he would ask for her phone number and then a date. She could find out where he lived and where his clients lived. That should satisfy Armoni. Given enough time, she confidently planned to obtain the information Armoni constantly gnashed his teeth over. Then she would be done with thi
s. She and Daisy would dump this smelly piece of garbage and strike out on their own.
Ginger Mae remembered the trailer trash, horse faced, fat, little blond in the gym at the hi-rise who happily bragged about how she left her loser husband after she met a wealthy guy on a website for dating millionaires. Within three weeks, she left her husband and moved in to the millionaire’s house. They were married within six months. He wasn’t exactly a looker, but then, either was she. And they were happy. What else did they need? At this point, Ginger desperately needed to grab at any straw if it aided her plan to get away from Armoni.
She started to wonder where his money came from. It wasn’t like he possessed any education or skills. Her curiosity about the people that stole his property increased. Now, knowing Armoni as she did, she began to have sneaking doubts about his story. After meeting Peter, she didn’t think he would, in good conscience, represent thieves. But she was damn sure Armoni would steal bones from a puppy. Getting sucked into a crime as an accessory was nowhere on her list.
Her tired eyes flashed lightning bolts as she approached the hi-rise. Looking up, she searched in vain for the seventeenth floor where they were residing. She swallowed her dread and went in to face the music.
The End
To You, My Dear Reader,
I want you all to know how heartfelt my appreciation is that you took the time to read my books. Being an author is one of the most torturous professions out there. Many of us live on the thanks of our readers alone. If anyone cares to leave me an honest review on Amazon.com, Goodreads.com, Smashwords.com, Kobo.com or Barnes and Noble, I would be ever so grateful. You can leave a review on Barnes and Noble and Goodreads without having made the purchase there. Some of you are unaware that Amazon, in particular, promotes books based on the amount of reviews a book gets. No reviews…the book will stay a secret.
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