3 Mango Bay

by Bill Myers

  I smiled. “My friend will feel better knowing the guy is off the streets.”

  We shook hands, I left his office and headed out to my Jeep.

  It was nearly noon. I was hungry, tired, and ready to go back to the peace and quiet of my motorhome.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  My quick wash job hadn't completely cleaned the mess off the Jeep's passenger door and I knew if I didn't get it cleaned, the stomach acid from the vomit would damage the paint. So I headed to the only car wash in Englewood, the Soap & Suds.

  Pulling into the lot, the attendant greeted me and asked what kind of wash I wanted.

  “Wash and wax, exterior only.”

  He punched a code into the terminal beside him and handed me a ticket. “Leave the keys in the ignition, pay inside, and we'll have it done in ten minutes.”

  After going into the office and paying, I stood by the large picture window and watched as my Jeep was slowly pulled through the car wash. Automatic brushes swooped down and cleaned the top, sides, hood and back. Then a rinsing shower washed away the suds, followed by a fine mist of hot wax.

  After the wax, a loud blower blew gale force winds over the Jeep to removing any remaining water droplets.

  As the Jeep exited the wash tunnel, one of the attendants got in and drove it to the drying area, where two men with towels and chamois cloths wiped the Jeep down.

  When they were done, I tipped them five dollars, happy to see my Jeep shiny and clean again. I'd only had it a day, and wanted the 'new to me' feeling to last as long as possible.

  Back at Serenity Cove, Bob met me when I opened the door to the motorhome with a loud “Mee-oooww!”

  He was obviously upset about something. I could understand why. He'd been awakened in the middle of the night, locked in the bedroom away from his food, then found a stranger (Anna) sleeping on his couch.

  This morning, another stranger (Polly) invaded his space. And to make matters worse, I'd left him alone most of the day and hadn't topped off his food before I left.

  As I walked back to his bowl, I reassured him. “It's okay, buddy, it's alright. You're not going to starve.”

  He trotted in front of me, his stubby tail up in the air, pleased that I was home and about to feed him.

  After I topped off his food bowl, he sniffed it, and walked away. It wasn't that Bob wasn't hungry. He probably was. But he didn't want me to see him eat right away. He was funny that way.

  Bob's a real character with a distinct personality. He'll let you know when it's time to feed him or pet him. And he'll let you know when you better leave him alone.

  I like that in a cat. You don't have to guess what he wants because he'll tell you. And if you ignore him, he'll make you pay.

  After I'd fed Bob, I made myself a quick sandwich, poured a glass of tea, and sat down to eat. I'd skipped breakfast and I was plenty hungry.

  After eating, I realized how tired I was, having not slept much the night before while watching over Anna. I figured a quick nap might be in order, so I headed back to the bedroom and laid down. It didn't take long before I was asleep.

  Some time later, I was woken by a loud beeping sound outside my door.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Figuring it was a garbage truck backing up, I ignored it. But the sound continued.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The volume was constant, like someone was parked right outside my door and honking a toy horn. It was annoying but I figured whatever it was, it would soon go away.

  And it did. After a few minutes the beeping stopped.

  But it was soon replaced by a loud tapping sound.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Apparently someone was at my front door. Tapping instead of knocking. I had no idea who it could be, and really didn't want to get up and see. I'd only been in Serenity Cove for two days, and no one except Anna, Polly and Lucy knew I was here. If any of them were at my door, they wouldn't be tapping. They'd knock.

  Maybe if I ignored whoever it was, they'd go away.

  But they didn't. The tapping continued.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Followed by more beeping.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Figuring that someone out there wanted to see me really bad, I gave in. I got up and looked out the window and saw an older man wearing a white cowboy hat, white cowboy shirt, white linen pants and dark sunglasses, sitting in a shiny black golf cart.

  The man had driven his cart up the shell path leading to the front steps of my motorhome. Just close enough so that he could use the black walking stick he held in his right hand to tap on the door.

  As I looked out the window, the man tapped the horn on the golf cart.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I was pretty sure the neighbors would soon get tired of hearing this, so I went to the front door and opened it to see what the guy wanted.

  Before I could say anything, he looked at me and asked, “What took you so long, son? You doing drugs in there?”

  I shook my head. “No, I was sleeping. What can I do for you?”

  “You the guy who is supposed to fix the internet around here? That's what they told me down at the office.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that's me.”

  “Good. You're the one I'm looking for. My internet is broken, and I need it up and running now.”

  The man looked to be in his late sixties and something about him was familiar. I'd seen him before, but I couldn't place his face.

  Impatiently he said, “Well, don't just stand there. Come fix my internet.”

  I shook my head. “Look, the internet is slow throughout the entire park. Fixing it is going to take some time. At least a month before the new equipment can be installed.”

  “No, that won't do. Can't wait a month. I need to get on the internet within the hour. And you're going to get off your butt, and come down to my place and get it fixed.”

  I had to admire the guy. He wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. “Okay, I'll come down and take a look, but I can't promise anything.”

  He pointed to the passenger seat in his golf cart. “Hop in.”

  I shook my head. “Give me a minute. I need to get a few things.”

  I grabbed my cell phone off the kitchen counter along with my keys. Stepping back outside, I locked the motorhome behind me, and reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of the golf cart.

  The man smiled. “My name's Buck. Better hold on.”

  He mashed the accelerator to the floor, and the golf cart took off like a rocket. The momentum threw me back in my seat, and if I hadn't grabbed the hand hold in front of me, I probably would have been thrown out. I looked over and Buck was grinning as we zoomed down the road.

  In less than a minute we reached his home – an older forty five foot Prevost Marathon bus – the kind owned by movie stars. Buck's was silver and black, with a wall of tinted windows stretching from the front to the back. The bottom half of the bus was rolled stainless steel, which shined brightly in the Florida sun.

  I was impressed.

  Prevost builds the most expensive motorhomes sold in the world. Absolute luxury on wheels, with no expense spared in their construction. The one sitting before me would have easily cost more than a million dollars when new. Even an older one like Buck's would be worth at least a quarter million.

  During our walks around the park, Polly had told me that this bus belonged to an aging movie star who had settled in Serenity Cove after losing most of his assets through a series of divorces.

  She hadn't told me the star's name, but seeing him in person, I realized who he was. Buck Waverly. A leading man from the seventies and eighties who had starred in many successful action adventure movies.

  Back then he was a superstar. As famous as anyone could be. Even had his own TV show for a while. The Buck Waverly Hour.

  But that had been thirty years ago. After his TV show ended, his star faded. To the best of my
knowledge, he hadn't appeared in a movie or TV series in a decade.

  He had gotten older and Hollywood had cast him aside. Now he lived in Serenity Cove.

  Buck hopped out of the golf cart and opened the door to the Prevost. Inside, it was like a palace, with the kind of luxury you expect in a movie star's trailer. Marble floors, mirrored ceiling, leather everything. Expensive and over the top.

  Buck sat down on the large leather couch, and nodded toward the dinette table across from him. On it, sat an expensive Dell laptop computer with a small video camera on a tripod positioned directly behind it.

  He pointed at the laptop. “There it is. See if you can get on the internet, because I sure can't.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  It took just three minutes for me to find the problem with Buck's computer. When I clicked on the network icon on the screen, it showed four available wireless networks. One belonged to Serenity Cove, the other three were fringe networks belonging to neighboring properties.

  The signal strength for the Serenity Cove network showed three bars – which wasn't bad considering we were sitting inside a Prevost bus, which is essentially a metal box.

  This was a problem with these high end motorhomes. Their all metal frame and skin, along with thousands of feet of internal wiring, often blocked incoming wifi signals.

  But that wasn't the problem in this case.

  The problem was Buck's computer was trying to connect to one of the fringe networks, not the Serenity Cove network.

  This was an easy fix. Using the drop down list of available networks, I selected Serenity Cove. And in less than twenty seconds, we were connected to the web.

  From behind me, Buck asked, “Any luck?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I've got you back on the internet. Things should run smoothly now.”

  “What? You got it fixed? I worked on it for an hour this morning, and couldn't get anything.”

  “Well, it's up and running now.”

  I stood and headed for the door.

  “Wait, don't go yet. I'm supposed to do a Skype video interview in an hour. Will this be fast enough for that?”

  I shrugged. “Don't know. Maybe, maybe not.”

  Buck looked worried. “This is important. One of my friends passed away and the network wants to do a live video interview with me this afternoon.

  “Is there some way you can test to make sure it works?”

  Back when I worked in the corporate world, I'd set up many video conference calls and knew what needed to be done.

  “Yeah, I can do some testing. It might take a few minutes.”

  “Good. You do that. We've got an hour until the call.”

  When I worked as a systems analyst, it seemed like everything had to be done on short notice, with a 'do or die' deadline. And this was no different.

  With just an hour to get things set up, I got to work. First thing I did was to download the latest version of Skype software. I knew this handled video better than earlier versions.

  Then I ran the Skype video compatibility test. The results showed that the internet upload speed was just barely adequate for HD video.

  Looking at the network signal strength bars, I could see the problem. Unless I could get at least four bars, Skype video might not be reliable.

  I turned to Buck. “I need to go back to my place and get something. I'll be back in ten minutes.”

  He tossed me the keys to his golf cart. “Take the cart, it'll be faster.”

  Months earlier, right after purchasing my motorhome, I'd ordered a high gain wireless antenna adapter for my computer. This small device bypasses the laptop's low power internal antenna, and lets you connect to an amplified external antenna.

  With this device, I'd been able to get internet in places most others couldn't. I was pretty sure that if I hooked this adapter to Buck's computer and mounted the remote antenna on the outside of his bus, he'd get a much stronger signal.

  Back at Buck's motorhome, I plugged the high gain adapter into his laptop, and routed the antenna cable out the nearby window. Outside the bus, I used the suction cup mount on the antenna to position it in direct line of sight to the nearest wifi repeater.

  Back inside the Bus, I rechecked the wireless signal strength meter on Buck's laptop. It now showed four and half bars. The video compatibility test showed the laptop, the connected video camera and the internet speed were more than ready for the video call.

  “Looks like you're ready. Signal strength is good, video is connected and Skype confirmed the test.”

  Buck smiled and reached out to shake my hand. “Son, you did good. And right on time. My call starts in ten minutes.”

  I headed for the door, but Buck stopped me. “You can't leave. You need to be here during the call. In case something goes wrong.”

  He pointed to the couch. “Sit over there. Stay out of the camera view. And don't say anything once the interview starts.”

  Buck sat down in front of the laptop and began preparing for his interview. He put on his cowboy hat, dusted his face with a make-up brush, checked his teeth, and arranged the laptop so it looked like he was looking directly into the camera.

  A few moments later, his computer announced an incoming Skype call.

  Buck clicked on 'answer with video', and he was immediately connected with a producer for Entertainment Tonight. The producer explained that the interview would start in about three minutes, would last no more than five minutes, and the questions would be about Sally Land, a woman who had co-starred with Buck in several feature films.

  The producer asked Buck to do a sound check, which Buck did by speaking a few words. “Howdy, I'm Buck Waverly. I'm coming to you from sunny Florida today. How's that?”

  The producer said, “Push up the volume of your microphone just a bit.”

  Buck complied, then repeated the sound check. “Howdy, I'm Buck Waverly. I'm coming to you from sunny Florida today. Is this better?”

  “Yes, that's perfect. Stand by for a countdown to go live.”

  Four minutes later the interview started.

  Buck was warmly greeted and asked about the actress who had recently passed away. He answered questions easily and offered heartfelt remembrances and some humorous anecdotes about working with the woman.

  After four and a half minutes, the interviewer signaled that time was almost up. He asked Buck about his health and whether he was working on any thing new.

  Buck laughed and said his health was fine and he was always looking for new projects, but was currently just enjoying life at his home in Florida.

  The interviewer thanked him, and moments later the producer came back on and said, “Buck, we're off the air. You did a great job. Our audience loved you. We may want to do another one of these soon. We'll stay in touch.”

  Before Buck could answer, the producer ended the call.

  Buck took off his microphone and turned to me. “Tell me the truth. How'd I do?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  “Buck, You did great. Very professional and quite entertaining.”

  He smiled. “Did I look old? Because I don't want viewers to think I'm old and washed up.”

  “Buck, you looked tanned and healthy. You smiled a lot. People will remember that.”

  Rubbing his hands together, Buck said, “Well good. That's all I can ask for.”

  He stood, went to the fridge and got a bottle of apple juice. “You want something to drink?”

  “No thanks. I need to head back home. It's been a long day.”

  I walked over to his computer and started to disconnect the amplified antenna cable.

  Buck looked at me, “What are you doing?”

  “Disconnecting the antenna. You don't need it.”

  “Yes I do. You heard the producer. They may want me for another call. Tell me how much the antenna costs. I'll pay for it.”

  I shook my head. “It's not the cost. It's the antenna. It's only attached with a suction cup. First good wind, and it'll
be gone. It's not designed to be outside in the weather full time.”

  Buck frowned. “But I need it. What if I get another Skype interview request? I gotta have that antenna.”

  I thought for a moment, then came up with a solution. “How about this. I'll order you something that'll work a whole lot better. It costs a little bit more, but if you need high speed internet, it'll get the job done.”

  Buck smiled, “Order whatever you think I need and I'll be happy to pay for it. In the mean time, let's leave that little antenna out there until the new one gets here. Is that okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that'll work.”

  I headed for the door.

  “Wait son. What's your hurry? I owe you something for today. Will a hundred take care of it?”

  I laughed. “Buck, you don't owe me anything. I really didn't do much. Plus, I got to see you in action. Live, and didn't even have to buy a ticket.”

  Buck shrugged. “Well, if you won't take money, how about dinner tonight? I'm buying.”

  I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, but tonight there's a woman and her mother I need to make amends with.”

  Buck grinned. “Woman trouble, huh? I'm pretty much an expert on that. I've had woman trouble of all kinds, and most of the time it was my fault.

  “But I've learned you can't give up. No matter how much trouble they are, it's usually worth it.

  “So are both these women single?”

  I nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  “Well son, that'll make it easier. You call and invite the woman and her mother to join us for dinner tonight. We can go to the Mango Bistro and have a nice meal. I'll entertain the mother while you try to make amends with the daughter. And who knows, maybe we'll both get lucky.”

  I shook my head. “I'm not so sure. It might be that neither of these ladies will want to go out to dinner tonight.”

  Buck handed me his phone. “Call the mother. Tell her you're sitting here with me and that I've asked you to call and see if she and her daughter would like to have dinner with us tonight. Be sure to mention my name.”