The Demarcation of Jack

by Blakely Bennett

  “It’ll be better once we hit the highway,” Jack said, clutching Jenna’s thigh reassuringly as she bounced in her seat.

  “No it won’t,” Marc said. “In fact, it’s going to get a lot worse. You’ll find yourself contemplating insurance policies and beneficiaries.” He looked directly at the three who stared back at him to see if he would break into laughter. Not even a chuckle or a smile showed. “You’ll pray before this trip is over,” he said.

  “Then why are we doing this?” Jenna asked.

  “Because I’ve always survived … so far,” Marc said with a wink. “The other option is a small plane, but you still have to take a bus from the landing strip to the hotel.”

  “That wouldn’t work for me. I don’t do small planes, can barely tolerate the big ones,” Jenna said. She consciously avoided looking directly at Marc.

  The route out of town offered a sense of relief, but only briefly, as the tour bus left the city streets for the main highway around the island. The chatter started between couples but soon enveloped everyone on the bus, with the exception of one. He was driving like a madman.

  “Oh my god! Did you see how close we came to that Rasta man standing on the side of the road?” Summer exclaimed, pointing out the rear window.

  “I swear I don’t see him back there anymore. Oh there goes another,” Jack said nervously. “That was close. This is nuts,” he said, laughing.

  “Why do they keep blinking their headlights?” Jenna asked.

  Marc scooted toward Jenna. “Well, it could be family or friends or a warning that they plan to make a pass,” he said with a wink. “I meant cars passing. They usually won’t challenge the buses, but I’ve seen them snake between a bus and a car.”

  “I see,” Jenna said. She looked away to hide the slight smile that Marc’s double entendre had evoked.

  The bus careened off the road, heightening the apprehension of the passengers. The tourists glanced wild-eyed about the coach when a young Jamaican driver rapidly blinked his lights as he changed lanes and sped past. In only a few hundred more feet, the road narrowed over a bridge. As the small car slid into its lane, pedestrians seemed to place their faith in their ability to remain steady and undisturbed by the closeness of the passing vehicles.

  “Oh, I can’t take it,” Jack said. “How many people are hit and killed each year, besides the twenty or so we’re responsible for?”

  “I don’t know,” Marc said.

  “Thank god,” Jenna said, looking out the large side window. “We only have eighty kilometers to go.” She turned to Jack and asked, “How far is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “I’m guessing too far for my heart, though.”

  Arriving at the midpoint in the drive to Ocho Rios, the clicking of the microphone drew everyone’s attention to the front of the vehicle where the big burly man spoke into his one hand while spinning the large steering wheel with the other.

  “Okay then, we will be stopping for refreshments for twenty minutes,” the driver announced as he slowed and turned down a road that led to a marketplace. He pulled in next to ten look-a-like buses and parked. “I would be suggesting you write down the number of our bus. Twenty minutes,” he said over the loud speaker. “This is the only stop until elegant Couples and Ciboney, Ocho Rios.”

  Jenna walked toward the front of the bus. “How much longer? Oh, never mind,” she said, holding up her hand. “I know, I know. Just relax, right?” She turned, grasped the handrail and shook her head as she descended the three steps of the bus to stand amongst the others.

  Their shoes crunched along the gravel path to a shanty shack. Upon stepping through the open doorway, they were pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the market. Jenna perused the general store filled with trinkets, Red Stripe beer, and local art. Questionable sandwiches wrapped in what appeared to be plain plastic repelled most tourists, while toward the back of the market, on a dark wood paneled wall, hung paintings from local artists. Each artist captured the essence of Jamaica in colors that vibrated with warmth; the art elicited a shared invitation to play and bask in the romance of the island.

  “This is lovely,” Summer said, lightly touching one of the oil paintings. “Let’s buy it, Marc.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she said, staring at the painting of a starry Jamaican sky above a huge bonfire on the beach where drummers and dancers moved to rhythms of the night. “I think it’s lovely.”

  “How much do you need?” Marc asked, admiring the artist’s work.

  “Thirty-seven.” She took the money from his hand. “Thanks, honey.”

  Jack and Jenna, backlit by the vast blue sky, stepped into the doorway of the shanty, each holding two Red Stripe beers.

  “Had to,” Jack said, shrugging his shoulders. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing these for the second leg of this trip, it may be the only way my heart will survive the rest of this ride. I figured you might like one as well.” He handed a beer to Marc and offered the other to Summer. “Whoa. Nice painting. Summer, you’ve got a good eye.”

  “Thanks, babe.” She moved shoulder to shoulder with Jack and held the painting up in front of them. “It's kind of sexy don't you think? I can almost feel the drum beat.” She tossed Jack a come-hither look that he easily caught but straightened up, feeling Jenna's stare.

  “These cats can put some paint down, ya mon? Inspiring,” he, nodding his head.

  The four strolled back in the shade of Banyan trees through a small herd of goats that paid them no notice, and climbed the steps to the aisle, flopping back into their seats.

  “Two minutes until the race for Ocho Rios is on again. Are we ready?” Marc asked.

  “Let’s all hold hands,” Jack said, reaching for Summer’s hand. “Shall we pray?” He joked.

  Summer smiled at Jack and gave his hand an extra squeeze. Jenna kept her hands in her lap to avoid clasping hands with Marc.

  The bus driver suddenly appeared, taking the mic in hand—not necessary for a bus that size—and said, “Okay then. We’re halfway, ya mon.” His voice echoed over the loudspeaker. “Let’s get started and finish this trip up. Remember, bus drivers don’t make a great deal in Jamaica, so tips are well appreciated. I’m sure you’ll feel a great appreciation when we arrive safely at the beautiful Ciboney and Couples, Ocho Rios.” He cranked the bus and backed out carefully and slowly. He then slid into first gear with a slight resistant grinding and sped out as if he had robbed the place.

  “He didn’t even count heads. Is everyone here?” Summer asked, glancing around the bus.

  “Ah, I’m sure we’re all here. So what have you girls decided we’re doing first?” Marc asked.

  “There’s a resort tour—whoa, what was that?” Jenna called out as the passengers all bounced in unison when the bus hit a huge pothole. “Somebody needs to fix this road,” she said, rubbing her behind. “Anyway, there’s a tour at the hotel when we arrive, so I’m thinking we should go and get a feel for the place. We’ll have time to unpack first.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Jack said.

  “Can that be right?” Jenna asked. “That sign said we have 65 kilometers to go. Is that possible? Are kilometers that small?”

  “I always thought a kilometer is similar but shorter than a mile, but not that much smaller.” Jack shrugged and slid over to the window to gaze out over the countryside. “Marc, what’s with all the goats?”

  “They eat them. They roam free throughout the countryside.”

  “Yeah, I’m noticing. They’re everywhere,” Jack said.

  “Oh my god! You’ve got to see this! That sign says 80 kilometers to Ocho Rios. How can that be?” Jenna said, pointing out the window as the sign whizzed past. “Is he taking us in circles?”

  Marc laughed boisterously. “Maybe they should lay off the ganja when they’re hanging signs. ‘Eighty, sixty-five, eighty? No problem, mon! Hey, they still gonna get there, mon,’” he said, continuing to laugh.

/>   “Frankly, I don’t find it funny,” Jenna said, scanning the scenery. “Are we ever going to get there?”

  “Don’t make me pull this bus over,” Jack said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Kiss my ass!” Jenna said, pushing playfully at Jack.

  “So, what else did you guys plan?” Marc said.

  “Holy shit, that’s either the largest cigarette or the biggest joint I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Jack said, holding his fingers in front of him about six inches apart. “Did you see that guy on the side of the road?”

  The driver pointed out the cruise ship ports and different resorts along the highway in an effort to help pass the time. After twenty minutes of silence, the mic clicked on for an announcement.

  “Welcome to Ocho Rios,” they heard over the loudspeaker. “We’ll be making one stop at Ciboney Resort and then we will make our way to Couples.”

  “I can’t wait to get off this bus,” Jenna said.

  “I can’t wait to see the resort,” Summer said.

  “Wow, check out this Rasta man … bathing in the creek by the road,” Jack said.

  “Where? Aww, I missed him. Was he naked?” Summer asked.

  “He was naked and I think you would’ve liked him,” Jack said, grinning.

  “Damn, let’s turn this bus around,” Summer said, giddy with excitement.

  “That’s my girl,” Marc said. He leaned in close to Summer and whispered, “There’ll be plenty of boys for you to flirt with once we get to the resort.”

  The bus abruptly pulled into the roundabout for the Ciboney Resort. The husky driver accompanied two German couples off the bus to extract their bags from the luggage compartment and then lingered ready and waiting for a tip. After receiving his gratuity, he returned to the bus and said, “Okay then, Couples is right up the road. Now doesn’t that make you happy? Irie.”

  “Makes me very happy!” Jenna shouted.

  “And you look great when you are happy,” Marc said, raising his eyebrows as a grin played across his lips.

  “Really? Aww, thanks, Marc.” Jenna felt a blush run through her entire body at his compliment. She moved closer to Jack and leaned her head into his shoulder.

  The white and red coach shimmied into a driveway lined with tall tropical palm trees swaying gently in the ocean breeze and heliconia in full bloom on either side of the road. As they moved along the route toward the resort entrance, they discovered ‘COUPLES’ embossed in the grass with bougainvillea rosenka shaping the letters. A red tile roof rose dramatically above as they approached the front steps and landing to the grand entrance of the resort. The driver maneuvered the bus in front of the hotel stairs bringing the vehicle to a sharp halt. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief for having simply survived the trip. Suddenly the air filled with excited chatter while the passengers noisily retrieved their belongings from the overhead racks.

  “Do you guys happen to have any small bills?” Jack asked.

  “No problem,” Marc said. He handed Jack a five and the foursome shuffled to the front of the bus.

  “Thank you, sir. We appreciate what you do,” said Marc, handing the driver a ten.

  “Irie, mon, you have yourself a fine vacation.”

  “That was a most interesting ride,” Jack said as he extended his hand to the driver. “I do appreciate getting here alive.”

  “Thank you, sir … and my lady, I hope you enjoy your stay more than the trip from Montego Bay. This is Jamaica, mon. Irie?”

  “Thanks,” Jenna said. “I’ll do my best.”

  Jack took Jenna’s hand and followed the group towards the stairs.

  With a beaming smile on her face, Summer looked back over her shoulder straight at Jack and asked, “Are you ready to play?”

  Jack glanced at Jenna and said, “You know, if I were a betting man…”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The foursome ascended the stairs into the hotel lobby where the vaulted ceilings and massive wooden columns dwarfed everyone and everything.

  “Hello, and welcome to Couples. Please enjoy a complimentary glass of champagne while you wait your turn for check in,” said a hotel host. “As soon as the front desk is ready for you, you will be called. Thank you.”

  The open French doors that lashed to the outside brick walls allowed the ocean breeze to swirl among the huge clay pots that rested on the terracotta floor interspersed with colorfully hand-painted tiles. Overstuffed couches and dark wood chairs filled the foyer, with no more than four seats in any one grouping. The colorful primitive art that adorned the monolithic walls encouraged everyone to slow down, take a moment and enjoy the slower pace. The newly arrived vacationists strolled to the rear of the lobby and perched at the window ledge to see Tower Island.

  Tanned bodies, glistening in the sun, paraded chaotically among the hubbub of activities below the windows. The rope hammocks strung between and in the shadows of palms, cradled couples of all shapes and sizes—one couple in a hammock waved and Jenna instinctively waved back.

  The four sidled up to the large dark-wood front desk to wait for the doling out of room keys.

  “Have a seat and relax. We’ll have you all in your rooms in no time,” the receptionist said cheerfully. “Hi. What’s your last name?”

  “Harper, Jack and Jenna Harper,” Jack said. He smiled and picked up their carry on.

  “It’ll be just a few minutes, sir,” she said, writing on a clipboard. “We only have a certain number of baggage handlers and we want to walk you to your room.”

  “How about I take my own bags and go to the room?” Jack said.

  “Jack, knock it off,” Jenna said. “You need to chill out.”

  “Look at those two. Hey, you two, get a room for god’s sake,” Jack called out to Marc and Summer. “Ha! I made a joke,” Jack said, laughing at himself.

  “It’s nice to see them so in love,” Jenna said.

  “You still love me don’t you?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Can we get another glass of champagne for my wife and I?”

  “Me.”

  “What?”

  “It’s ‘me’.”

  “What about you?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” Jenna said as she walked over to the front desk and asked, “How much longer do you think? He gets grumpy when he hasn’t eaten.”

  “One second, please,” the desk clerk spoke into her walkie-talkie. “Do we have a bellman for—what’s your last name?”

  “Harper,” she said, smiling.

  “For the Harpers?”

  “Yes, just now, he’ll be heading your way in a few moments,” the voice squawked on the walkie-talkie.

  “Oh, okay. We’ll just be right over here.”

  “Dr. Beckum, your room is ready, sir. Right this way, please.”

  “Call us and we can meet up for the tour,” Summer said, looking back as they followed the bellman to the north end of the property.

  “So cheerful she is,” Jack said sarcastically. “Sorry, I’ll behave. In fact, I don’t care when we get into our room because we’re on Jamaican time. We’re here to enjoy the fruits of our labor,” Jack said, drawing attention to himself.

  “Don’t be so loud. You’re being obnoxious,” Jenna whispered to Jack. “Trust me, he’s safe,” she said to the host.

  “Mr. Harper, right this way, sir,” said the clerk from the front desk.

  “Crap, I hate it when I get ahead of myself,” Jack said. “Now, I’ve shown my ass for nothing.”

  “Is there a time when you show your ass for a legitimate reason?” Jenna asked.

  “Hmm … you are a clever woman, certainly not to be trifled with,” he said in a mock English accent.

  “If anyone was offended, I apologize. Please be so kind as to forget our last name.” She flipped her backpack over her shoulder and joined Jack.

  Jack picked up his champagne flute, pulled on his shades and hat, and fell in behind the bellhop.


  “Wait. What’s this place?” Jack said, pointing to the open door.

  “It’s the resort store, sir.”

  “You guys go ahead. I’m going to buy a pack of cigarettes,” he said, slinking down as if on a clandestine mission. “American, of course.”

  “Jack,” Jenna called out. “You’re not going to buy smokes are you? Really?”

  “Just for here, Jen. I would never smoke in the states. Only for a few days. It goes well with drinking and cavorting with everyone.”

  “We’ll wait for you sir, no problem,” said the bellman.

  After Jack came out of the store, their escort led them down a carpeted hallway decorated with brocaded pineapples and floral patterns. He pushed the keycard into the slot and said, “We want you to enjoy your stay, so if there’s anything we can do for you, my lady and sir. Would you be needing anything special today?”

  “No. At least not at the moment,” Jack said. He had the impression that the bellhop meant marijuana and not food or drink.

  “When you do, it would be good to speak to the gardener.”

  “Maybe you guys could take this up later,” Jenna said, pushing in between the men.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Oh cool. This is excellent,” she said. “Check out the towels shaped into two swans kissing. That’s so cute. The bed looks nice. Oh Jack, this is great. Wow, look at the view we have from our balcony.” She threw open the French doors and walked out onto the mezzanine. “What’s that island, Jack?”

  “That’s the nudie place,” he answered. “Doesn’t seem like something you would want to do.”

  As she reentered the room, she responded to Jack, “I don’t know about that.” She walked over to her suitcase and unzipping it she said, “I might just try it.”

  “Yeah … and I’m going to ride the rollercoaster at Boomer’s, too,” he said, hanging up the garment bag.

  The soft, warm Caribbean winds whipped the chiffon liners of the window treatments out onto the balcony where they waved like flags in celebration. The bright colorful patterns and the rich dark furniture wrapped them in the warm Jamaican culture. The airiness of the room combined with the array of yellows found in the curtains, bedspread, and tile floors inspired romance and relaxation.