by Glenn, Roy
“Thanks. I’ll check it out, Pete. I’ll see you Friday morning.”
After a lengthy ride around the coastal areas of Grand Cayman Island, the taxi driver made it to Rum Point. The cab pulled up in front of The Pools. Travis was very surprised and very impressed. He wasn’t expecting much from Pete’s referral of someplace an old man visited with his mistress. He went inside and the clerk described the property.
“The Pools feature fully furnished and smartly equipped one bedroom, one bath vacation properties. Our rooms are specifically designed with a private screened pool on your lanai, with ultra large sliding doors that fully open up the bedroom, living area and kitchen to a magnificent view of the beach and North Sound. You are about fifteen steps from the pool to the warm, relaxing water and soft, sandy white beach. It is located on the very end of The Pools development, making for a very private setting. Your room will be shaded under palm trees, and enjoys consistent trade winds that come across from Rum Point. Would you care to see a unit, sir?”
“Yes, definitely. Lead the way,” Travis said and followed the attendant.
Once he reached the condo, he went on to explain, “The condo has a king-sized bed in the master bedroom, with a large sleeper built into the living area couch, making for comfortable accommodations for up to four adults.”
“I don’t plan on having that much company.” Travis smiled.
“But it’s good to have and don’t need, yes? Come, let me show you, the unit has cable TV, stereo, and a phone. There are ceiling fans in the bedroom and living area, along with central air conditioning. The condo has a fully equipped kitchen with all the modern appliances. The laundry room has a full size washer and dryer, and the condo comes equipped with linens and towels, along with basic toiletries for your use. Chisholm’s grocery is just a seven minute drive down the road.”
“I’ll take it.”
Once Travis was finished with the check-in process and was alone in the condo, he stepped out on the lanai to look at his private screened-in pool. He gazed out at the beach and exclaimed, “This is the shit!”
When he calmed down, he thought about calling Jackie or Ronnie to see what was up. Then he thought it was a better idea to call Freeze.
“What’s up?” Freeze asked.
“You tell me.”
“It’s all good in this corner of the world. Your crew been up at Cynt’s the last couple of nights. I hear your boy Ronnie was drunk. I talked to Jackie for a minute last night. Her fine ass says it’s all been good on her end. Every time I see her I think what a waste. She don’t fuck no men?”
“Not that I know of,” Travis said and smiled.
“What a fuckin’ waste. Anyway, you back in town yet?”
“No. I’m in the Caymans. Just got here, in fact.”
“Pete take good care of you?”
“Yeah, man. No problems there. He’s coming back for me on Friday,” Travis said.
“Good. Anything else?”
“No. I just called to holla, see what was up. We’ll talk when I get back.”
With that call out of the way, Travis found time to relax. He gave some thought to catching a cab back into George Town to rent a car, but decided against it. Instead, Travis walked to Chisholm’s grocery to pick up a few things he’d need for his stay.
He took a cab back to The Pools and put in a call to Veronica Evans. She worked in investment and special services at National Commercial Bank, where Travis kept his money. In her position she handled demand and time deposits in all major currencies, investment advisory services, and spot and forward trading in the foreign exchange markets. Travis had talked with her many times over the past two years, and there was always a very sexual under tone to their conversations.
When Travis told her that he was on the island, Veronica asked him to meet her for dinner in George Town at a restaurant called Paradise. “It is the best place to enjoy the true Cayman sunset overlooking the harbor at Eden Rock,” Veronica told him.
Travis was excited to meet the woman who had the most adorable West Indian accent he’d ever heard. He waited at the oceanfront bar for her to arrive. “Travis?” Veronica said as she approached him at the bar.
As soon as he heard her voice, Travis turned around quickly and stood up. “Veronica?”
“I know it was you the minute I see you sitting there. You look exactly like you sound,” Veronica said.
Travis looked her over and a smile slowly came across his face. “Please, have a seat,” he said. Veronica sat down at the bar next to him. “You don’t look anything like I pictured you.”
“What you think I look like? No, let me guess. You thought I was a little skinny something, right?”
Travis smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly right.”
“Everyone I have conversation with by phone is surprised when they see me.” Veronica laughed. She wore her hair in short dreadlocks, which seemed to fit her attractive face and full lips. Her dark skin was radiant in the island sun. But what brought the smile to Travis’s face was her body. Her hips and her chest screamed for attention. Veronica stood five feet ten inches tall and had the type of body that used to be called a brick house. She was very well put together, dressed in a blue-skirted business suit and white blouse, which by this time was buttoned down.
“So, tell me the truth, Travis. Are you disappointed in what you see?” she asked, leaning forward to give him a view of her ample cleavage.
“Not at all.” Travis leaned closer to her. “In fact, seeing you makes me wish I had made this trip much sooner,” he said, smiling all over himself.
For the next hour or so, they had drinks at the bar and Veronica told Travis about life at the bank. “NCB is a subsidiary of National Commercial Bank of Jamaica. I was transferred in when a mutual fund company, acquired just over seventy-five percent of the share holdings in the bank,” she said.
“Jamaica. Is that where you’re from?”
“Yes. I am from Saint James Parish.”
“Saint James Parish? I’ve never heard of that.”
“It very near to Montego Bay,” Veronica answered.
“I’ve been to Jamaica a few times.”
“Have you now? What part you been to?”
“I’ve been to Montego Bay, to Kingston, and Negril.”
“You know, as many times as you’ve been there, you really not been to there ’til you go with somebody who from there. You see, you probably spend all of your time at whatever resort you went to. Am I right?”
“You’re right. We went on the little resort sponsored shopping trip, but they try to have enough going on so you stay in the resort.”
“They don’t want you rich Americans spending too much of your money outside the gate. Maybe somebody else make some money other them,” Veronica said.
After a bit more small talk, they were seated at a table with a view of the setting sun for dinner. “Do you know what you want?” Travis asked as they looked over the menu.
Veronica smiled at Travis. “I always know exactly what I want.”
“And what might that be, Veronica?”
“A very juicy cut of filet mignon,” Veronica replied, looking into his eyes. “It’s called Filetto Al Pepe Verde, and it’s served with our homemade peppercorn sauce,” she said slowly and deliberately. “What about you?”
“I was thinkin’ about the New Zealand rack of lamb. But you’ve got me feelin’ the Mermaid Surf n’ Turf Platter. You know, that big steak and jumbo shrimp combination, grilled to perfection, served with a guacamole sauce,” Travis said, keeping the tone of the flirtation.
After dinner and not so polite dinner conversation was finished, Travis asked about the nightlife.
“There’s a place called Bamboo that’s nice. It’s located at the Hyatt Regency Hotel.
“What kind of place is it?” he asked.
“You go there for an upscale kind of sophisticated atmosphere. It’s a sushi bar and lounge. Do you like sushi, Travis?”
/> “I love to eat sushi, but not right now.”
“Or there’s The Matrix. They have a DJ that plays hip-hop and reggae. Or we could go to Bed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Travis, honey, if you could only see the look on your face.” Veronica laughed. “Bed is a cozy little lounge on the Harquail Bypass, where the drinks are served by waiters in silk pajamas.”
“You are too much, girl.”
“No, me just enough.”
Travis and Veronica ended up at The Next Level on West Bay Road near the Marriott, where the pair danced to reggae music. It was a little after 1:00 in the morning when Veronica arrived in Rum Point and pulled up in front of Travis’s condo to drop him off.
“Do you want to come in?” Travis asked as he got out of her car. He leaned in the window. “It’s a long ride back.”
“But it will be a longer ride if I come in,” Veronica said. “I must work in the morning, and we have business to transact at the bank.”
Travis laughed. “Okay, Veronica. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Travis arrived at the bank dressed like a tourist, complete with a camera around his neck. After a bit of flirtatious small talk and comments about Travis’s attire, Veronica personally assisted him in depositing $140,000. Once the transaction was complete, Veronica asked Travis what his plans were for the day. He had made arrangements to take a bus tour of the island, after which he planned to relax at the beach by the condo.
“You can take my car, as long as you come back for me at five,” she offered.
Travis gave it some thought, but declined her offer. “I really don’t feel like driving here. That’s why I didn’t rent a car. The whole left side driving thing is kind of freaky to me, you know.”
“I understand. To be honest, most of our accidents are from you Americans renting cars. So, can we get together tonight?” Veronica asked.
“Oh, no doubt. Why don’t you come by the condo tonight? I’m sure we’ll find something to get into.”
“That’s sound good to me. Say around nine?”
“Sounds like a plan is coming together. See you around nine, Veronica,” Travis said as he headed out of the bank. “Oh yeah. Bring some swimwear.”
From then on, Travis was a tourist. The money was now safely in his account, which brought the balance to just over $200,000. He stopped at the first bar he found and had a couple of strong tropical drinks before proceeding to the tour bus.
While waiting to board the tour bus, Travis struck up a conversation with two British women who were visiting the island from York, a borough of North England. Once the tour began, the group was driven around the island to the many points of interest. Travis and his English companions took quite a few digital photos of themselves and the sights.
“The Cayman Islands were first sighted by European explorers on 10 May, 1503,” the tour conductor told the group, “owing its existence to a chance wind that blew Christopher Columbus’s ship off course.” He continued to tell the story of the islands’ discovery, and the origin of the name Cayman Islands. “By 1530, the name Caymanas was being used. It is derived from the Carib Indian word for the marine crocodile, which is now known to have lived in the islands. This name, or a variant, has been retained ever since.” He went on to describe the settlement of the islands, including their history of slavery. Travis appreciated the history lesson, but was looking forward to relaxing that afternoon.
Once the tour concluded, Travis spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out on the beach with the two English women. Once the sun went down, he made his way back to Rum Point. He looked at the clock and thought this would be a good time to call Me’shelle.
“Well, this is a surprise.”
“How you doing, Me’shelle?” Travis asked.
“I’m doing fine. I guess I don’t have to ask you how you’re doing. I know you’re having a good time. So good a time that you forgot to call me yesterday,” Me’shelle said. Then she flipped it. “I’m just trippin’ with you, Travis. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself in Miami.”
“Actually, Me’shelle, I’m not in Miami.”
“Where are you? Back in New York?”
“No. I’m in the Cayman Islands.”
“What? You’re in the Cayman Islands? What are you doing there?”
“Just tying up some loose ends from the last job I did.”
“Oh, now I’m mad at you. Did you know it snowed here today? It never snows this early in the winter. It was just a few inches, but still, it snowed. So, you’re down there, having fun in the sun while I’m here in the snow. You’re probably calling me from the beach right now, aren’t you?”
“No, Me’shelle, I’m not on the beach. The sun went down about an hour ago. But the condo I’m staying in has a screened-in lanai with my own private pool.”
“I hate you, and I never want to see you again,” Me’shelle said.
“Oh, so it’s like that?”
“No.” Me’shelle smiled. “But it should be. I don’t like the cold.”
“You wanna come down here for the weekend? I’ll send you a ticket.”
“No, Travis. I don’t know you that well.”
“Are you sure, Me’shelle? I could call my guy and tell him not to come until Sunday. There’s a couch that turns into a bed. You could have the bedroom. I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”
“Your offer is tempting, Travis, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to come to the islands to meet you, not to mention stay with a man I barely know.”
“I can respect that.”
“I know a lot of women who would jump at the chance to fly to the Caymans to stay with a handsome man in a condo with a private pool.”
“So do I,” Travis said quietly.
“I heard that. So, why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I what? Bring a woman down here with me?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you?” Me’shelle asked. “Or are you one of those people who doesn’t like to bring sand to the beach?”
“No, it’s not that.” Travis thought carefully about what his answer would be. He really wanted to answer her question honestly. “I’m here alone for two reasons. One, I’m here to handle some business. Two, there’s nobody in my life I feel enough for to want to bring them along on a trip like this.”
“Then why did you invite me?”
“Because I think there’s a chance that you just may be somebody I could feel that way about,” Travis answered. He thought about what he just said, then he thought about Marita, his one-night stand in Miami. The last time he talked to Me’shelle he rushed her off the phone to let Marita in.
He looked at the clock next to the bed. It was 8:30 p.m. In thirty minutes, Veronica would be there, and he had every intention of stripping her juicy body down. Then he thought about Mystique. What was he going to do with her? Is this how a man acts when he thinks he’s found the one?
“I don’t know about all that, Travis,” Me’shelle said as if she heard the question. “I like you. I enjoy talking to you more than I’ve enjoyed talking to anybody in a long time.” She thought about Trent. Wasn’t this how things started with him too? Maybe this is how it always begins.
When they met, Me’shelle thought Trent was the most fascinating man she’d ever met. Two days later she was bent over her couch and Trent was inside her. After a few months, his stories got old and all sounded the same. Before they broke up—you mean before he dumped you for the tittie woman—he seemed like the shallowest man she’d ever met. But she thought she was in love with him. Maybe it was just that she got comfortable with him and didn’t like being removed from her comfort zone. Me’shelle had spent a lot of time thinking about that very thing, and she didn’t have the answer—at least not yet.
“I’m not saying that I’m the answer to all your questions, but can I tell you what I’d like to do with you, Me’shelle?”
“Go ahead.�
��
“I’d like to have a chance to take my time and see if you can be all that I think you are.”
“I like the part about taking your time. That sounds really good to me. I’ve rushed into relationships before and I’ve gotten my feelings hurt every time. So, as much as I like you, Travis, I’m going to take it really slowly with you.”
“Are you still gonna have dinner with me when I get back?”
“No doubt. I’m looking forward to it,” Me’shelle said.
“So, if I call you from Miami, will you pick me up tomorrow night from the airport?”
“It depends on what time, but yes.”
“Good,” Travis said happily. “I’ll call you from Miami.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Me’shelle, my belle.”
“Bye, Travis.”
Chapter Sixteen
Travis hung up the phone, stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep. He was awakened suddenly by a loud noise. He looked at the clock; it was 10:30. He got up and made his way to the door.
“I bet you thought I wasn’t coming,” Veronica said.
“No. To be honest with you, I fell asleep,” Travis said as his eyes began to focus on the woman standing before him with her arms extended. She wore a white cotton dress and carried a bottle of champagne in one hand and a big purse in the other.
Veronica handed the bottle to Travis. “A little something to celebrate your last night on the island,” she said as she passed.
“Dom Perignon ’93.”
“I see you already have on your trunks. Why don’t you pour us a glass and wait for me in the pool?”
