by Lynn Shurr
The charter boat chugged to the dock. Two brawny black men threw out the lines and secured it to the pilings. Rich Kuhl, captain’s hat at a cocky angle on his white hair, jumped ashore with a mouthful of apologies. “Sorry to be late, Prince Omar. I’ll reimburse you for that cab. Usually, I meet my clients at the airport, but we had a little engine trouble. She’s working fine now.”
“Please speak more slowly. The prince has little English, but understands some. I am his translator, Aaron Marchand.” Noreen had helped him pluck the name from their mutual ancestors, but Bodey teased Rusty about it sounding kind of gay. No more so than the white suit and pink shirt Roger lent him, but he added, “I picked up Arabic when I served in Operation Desert Storm, marine corps” to make sure Rich knew he served as some kind of bodyguard, too.
“Sorry-I-am-late. We-go-now-to-eat-a-good-meal-on-my-private-island-then-fish.” Rich spoke slowly and very loud as if volume would break down the communication gap. He ended with a salaam-like flourish straight out of the Arabian Nights.
Rusty whispered in Bodey’s ear. The Arab prince nodded graciously.
“The wind is picking up. Maybe you should stow the prince in the cabin, Mr. Marchand. Help yourselves to anything in cooler. I need to take the helm. The boys will get your bags.”
Getting tangled in his robes a little, Bodey descended less than gracefully into the boat followed by his minion. They made themselves comfortable in leather captain’s chairs and raided the cooler for bottles of cold water.
Left alone, Bodey ventured, “Great, we’re going straight to Eve. Now, we won’t have to mess around pretendin’ to fish. I can chuck this disguise and have my heart-to-heart with her, then the three of us will head back to the states.” If his blue eyes hadn’t been covered by muddy brown contacts and wrap-around sunglasses, they would have glittered.
“Too easy, way too easy. Something is bound to go wrong.” The sound of the boat engine covered their conversation. Rusty unbuttoned his collar and stripped off a white silk tie, also courtesy of Roger. The hell with it. What he did for Bodey Landrum!
They were on the water quite a while before a small island peeked from the sea. Entering a cove sheltered from the wind that had made the trip rough, the boat, another Princess Eve, docked again. Rich came to the side of his wealthy passenger and directed them up a path where tropical plants crowded the way.
“Like Eden,” Bodey murmured to Rusty. Where else would Eve live?
A feast of coconut shrimp, rice pilaf, tropical fruits, and a bowl of hummus surrounded by pita strips to make the customer feel at home awaited them. A hyacinth macaw begged for grapes from a nearby perch. Iced tea sat on the table, but Rich offered chilled champagne. When Bodey held out a hand, Rusty kicked him in the shin under the table. He slammed it on the chair arm instead.
“You have offended the prince. He adheres strictly to the laws of Islam,” Rusty explained.
“Well, it’s been my observation that some of them play hooky when on vacation and imbibe a bit. Anything else I can get for him?”
Bodey gestured Rusty to come close and whispered in his ear. “Tell him I like women, white women.” So far the only females he’d seen ran to the dusky side.
“Since we are staying the night, he wonders if you might have any white women available.”
A deep frown creased Rich’s florid face. “Only my daughter and she’s not here right now.”
More whispers. “The prince wants only the pleasure of her company. He would treat her with the greatest respect.”
“Maybe she’ll come to dinner. Maria, when you see my daughter, explain the prince wants to meet her tonight,” he said to the woman bringing a tray of light desserts. “Finish up. Looks like a storm is brewing on the horizon. We might be able to get in some fishing before it hits.”
Bodey gestured to his translator and whispered, “Doesn’t sound safe.”
Rusty answered back, “You booked a fishing service, not me.” At full voice, he said, “I’d like to change. The prince will remain dressed as he is.”
“Certainly. Your room is right over there.”
Rusty eased by the parrot with the impressive beak breaking Brazil nuts and jostled his stand. The blue wings flapped, and the bird squawked, “Pretty Eve, Pretty Eve,” for no reason at all, but it seemed to taunt Bodey with its harsh voice and beady eyes.
“Excuse, please,” Bodey managed, trying hard to sound foreign. Giving the parrot a wide berth, he followed Rusty.
In the privacy of the bathroom, he heaved up his robes and took a leak. Going commando under his costume sure came in handy in a hurry. He’d been holding it for some time. Rusty changed into khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and his own sandals. “I don’t care if translators wear suits, I’m not going fishing in one,” he complained.
Bodey ignored the complaint. “We’re close. That parrot knows her.”
“Her daddy probably trained it to peck out the eyes of any man who comes near his daughter. You see the beak on that bird?”
“Yeah, but if I can handle a two-ton bull, I can deal with a parrot. Not so sure about the fishing expedition. Almost puked just getting here.”
“Your idea,” Russ reminded him again.
They rejoined Rich and his crew, cast off, and headed out to sea searching for marlin. Instead, they caught two large yellowfin tuna after copious compliments to the sheik on his upper body strength and endurance.
“You tell the prince we’ll grill these for his dinner and get him a marlin tomorrow for sure,” Rich said to Rusty. “We need to go in now, race that storm coming at us. Tell him my beautiful daughter will be waiting. He’s looking a little green and that should encourage him to hang in there until we get back to the island.”
The ship turned and began to buck through swell after swell. They swerved again to run along the calmer water of the main island, but by that time Bodey, doubled over, hugged the railing and puked over the side. The captain turned the wheel over to one of his men and came to show his concern for his very rich passenger with several strong pats on the back. Bodey’s sunglasses fell into the sea. One contact popped out and joined them. He had enough presence of mind to shut his eye pretending he’d gotten salt water in it and gestured for Rich to go away, but another turn of the boat caused the wind to swell under his authentic Arabic throbe. It carried the cloth up and over his bare buttocks as he hunched heaving into the sea. He’d spent days by his pool tanning his feet and legs for this adventure, but sure, he’d worn trunks never thinking Rich Kuhl would get a look-see at his lily-white ass.
He knew the gig was up when Kuhl’s big hands seized his shoulders and spun him around. “You’re no Arab.” He forced Bodey’s closed eye open and stared into the shining blue iris. “You’re that no good cowboy sniffing around my daughter again. She’s not interested in lowering herself for a guy like you. Now get off my boat!”
Get off the boat! They were on the ocean. Oh sure, Bodey could see the beach from here, but he still reckoned it to be a mighty long swim. He backed toward the center of the craft where he could make a better stand as Rich summoned the spare deckhand, a big man black as sin and twice as strong. Though Rusty tried to yank the muscleman off, he ended up sitting on his own ass on the deck. With the deckhand gripping him around the torso and Rich pushing from behind, Bodey went over the side. “Swim for it, you bastard!” Kuhl shouted as Bodey, weakened by sea sickness, surfaced.
“As for you, Aaron Marchand, or whoever you are, I figure he hired you for this escapade. I’ll take you back to the dock. Get yourself on a plane and get out of here.”
In the water, Bodey struggled, the robe wrapping around his legs. Spending every summer doing rodeo, he hadn’t made good use of Big Ben’s pool and now lived to regret it. His arms were plenty strong enough, but his swimming skills lacked a great deal. He turned to float on his back, but the garment still dragged him down. He ripped off the headdress and freed his head to ride a little higher in the water. One desperate blue
eye watched Rusty shuck off his sandals and do a pretty decent dive into the surf. He moved toward Bodey with an even stroke. That was Rusty, steady, dependable. He didn’t deserve his friendship anymore than he did a woman like Eve, strange thoughts as he swallowed a gulp of seawater and realized he was going under.
A hand jerked him to the surface again and towed him with an arm wrapped around his bearded chin toward the combers that raked a sandy beach. They rode the waves in and emerged from the water to sprawl just above the waterline. Rusty pressed his back frantically to bring up the saltwater. What was a little more barfing after what he’d just experienced?
“Enough! I didn’t swallow that much. You got to me real quick. Besides, I’m mostly empty from all that hurling.” Bodey rolled over and sat up beside his best friend. “Sorry I got you into this, sorry I lost Eve, sorry I didn’t put out money for the izaar.”
“The what?”
“The thing you wear under your throbe to cover your ass. You sure covered mine just now, but can we not tell Noreen?”
“She won’t hear it from me, or I’ll never get out of the house alone again.”
“Still got your passport and credit card? The danged pouch almost strangled me in the waves.” Bodey fished out a zippered plastic bag on a long string from the neck of his sodden robe and Rusty did the same. People who’d seen them struggle from the sea gathered, forming a ring around them, offering to call for aid.
“We’re fine. Just point us in the direction of a place where we can buy some dry clothes. And no, we didn’t have a great time in the Cayman Islands if anyone wants to know,” Bodey said, his voice raw from seawater and vomit.
The rain began to patter and pockmark the sand. Well-meaning arms helped them up, mouths offered them water and a ride into town.
“Come on, Rusty. Let’s go home.”
****
At the house, Eve sat on one of the lounges watching the rain pour from the eaves as it did fairly often this time of day. She’d been thinking about Bodey, about going home, but did not share her thoughts with her father who would only find reasons for her to stay.
“How was the fishing?” she asked to show interest in his life.
“No marlin. Two nice yellowfins we can cut into steaks for dinner.”
“Where are your guests?”
“Turned out that Arab had no stomach for the sea. He puked his guts out and begged me to put him ashore on Grand Cayman so he could go back to his oil rich desert. What a wuss, but I get to keep his money.”
One of the crewmen walked by with the prince’s luxurious leather suitcase. Eve raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you fret, honey, we’ll get it back to the man tomorrow. Glad you came out of hiding to have dinner with me.”
“I love having dinner with you, Daddy, making up for all those lost years. Sorry I hid out at lunchtime, but I simply couldn’t stomach another sheik leering at me throughout a meal. I saw the man dressed in a throbe get off the boat and headed for the hills to do some sketches, but I did intend to meet you at dinner. I know it helps your business to have a hostess.”
“That’s why I’d like you to stay here. You are good for business, good for me, too. Like I said, this Bodey character must have moved on or he’d have tried to reach you by how.”
“Regardless, I have to go back to Rainbow soon and close up my studio, let the Academy know my plans if I don’t intend to teach art and riding this fall. I might do a short retreat and sort out my feelings.”
“Your daddy understands. You do that, then hurry back to me. I’ll keep my eye out for a rich man who deserves you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Yep, the time had come for the whiskey cure after the disguise debacle. Maybe he’d pick up some honky-tonk gal to fill the hole Eve had left, but hell, it would take a hundred loose women just to cover the bottom of that pit, let alone top it off. Still, he wasn’t ready for the nice ladies the nuns were pushing his way. He wanted to settle down, and maybe once Eve was out of his system, he’d try again.
The Rainbow Express boiled on an August Saturday night. The rickety air conditioning system couldn’t cope with the ninety-three degree evening outside or the crush of bodies inside. Sweat ran down the necks of women and tantalized by disappearing into their cleavage like warm streams flowing over boulders.
A good zydeco band played and between drinks, Bodey danced with girls who had so many piercings he knew they were too young for him and older gals smelling of cigarettes and gin, who looked like they’d given up on every other pleasure in life. He hadn’t bothered to shave since returning to Rainbow. The women told him the pointed beard made him look devilish and they hoped he’d live up to it, but he didn’t favor any one of them.
About the time he started tripping over his own feet, he gave his truck keys to a bartender who couldn’t be much past twenty-one, and pointing out his vehicle, asked the kid to see he got home to Three B’s Ranch just down the road. He’d promised his daddy he would be careful if he drank. It was good to have someone who cared about him.
The bartender slung the keys beneath the counter and rolling his eyes said, “I guess, whatever.” When Bodey pulled out three hundred dollars to pay his tab, the remainder to serve as a tip, the answer changed to, “Yessir.”
By the time last call came and the crowd had thinned down to the die-hards and the drunks, Bodey sat with his head resting on the bar. He wasn’t sleeping or passed out, only trying to figure out how to get to his truck without puking. A hot body took possession of the stool next to him and slid the seat closer so their elbows touched. Bodey raised his head enough to see over his arms. He focused. “Renee?”
“You need a ride home, cowboy?”
“Soon,” said Bodey, swallowing hard.
“Looks like both of us were screwed over by artists. You know that snake, Evan, must have painted me fifty times, mostly in the nude, had a big showing and wouldn’t cut me in on the profits. Said I’d signed the modeling contract and been given cash plus room and board in San Francisco—and then he mocked my art.”
“Mocking’s bad,” Bodey agreed.
“So, did Eve take the check Hardy gave her for her mural and any other services she might have rendered him and skip to the islands, or did she hit you for the cash to set up elsewhere?”
“Daddy came,” Bodey explained as best as he could.
“She got herself another sugar daddy? Pure, pious Eve? Where does she find people like that in Rainbow? Wish I knew. There’s one thing I do know. Revenge is sweet. How about we take some revenge on artists, Bodey?”
“Swheet revenge,” he parroted.
“Where are your keys?” Renee began searching his pants pockets as well as exploring other possibilities along the way.
“Here they are, ma’am,” the boy bartender offered. The drunk wouldn’t remember who drove him home come morning.
Renee wrinkled her nose at being called ma’am, but took the keys. “Thanks—sonny.”
She maneuvered Bodey across the gravel lot to the passenger door of his truck. “You can drive schtick?” he asked.
“All my life.”
Bodey motioned her to go around to the driver’s seat. Renee started the engine. The noise drowned the retching sound of Bodey puking his guts out behind the right front tire. Finally, wiping his lips on his sleeve, he crawled in beside her.
The last of the evening didn’t go much smoother back at the ranch. By the time Renee got Bodey to his bed—thank heaven the master suite was on the first floor—and pulled off his boots and jeans, the cowboy king started snoring. Oh well, no problem. She’d get naked and slip in beside him. In the morning, he’d believe anything and Eve Burns would be just a bitter memory to both of them.
Renee shimmied out of her red spandex dress and let it puddle at the foot of the bed. She hung her crimson lace thong over Evan’s painting of Venus Rising from her Bath. Renee snorted. Evan had done one of her in a similar pose and given it the same title. She was definitely the bette
r Venus, far more voluptuous. She pitched her ice pick heels to opposite corners of the room and snuggled up to Bodey like a rattlesnake against a hot rock on a cold evening.
****
The sun had been up for hours by the time Renee opened her eyes and pushed away from Bodey who still snored with a sound like the evening freight train. She stretched, admiring her body in the bedroom mirror. Taking a closer look, Renee smoothed out the make-up that had sunken into the fine lines around her eyes with her fingertips. She should shower, but she had left all of her cosmetics at home.
A brief skinny dip, head above water, should do the trick. Afterward, she could work on a full body tan. Seeing her completely naked out by the pool would give old Bodey a jolt when he finally came to. Renee snatched a thick, over-sized towel from Bodey’s bathroom and, admiring the artistic strewing of her clothing from last night, started across the room. She had a second thought.
She checked both night tables and found what she wanted in the one closest to Bodey’s side of the bed. Tearing the packet open and tossing it aside, she inserted her two longest fingers in the condom and stretched it. Then, pulling it off, she spit into the opening, rubbed the contents around, and draped the forged evidence over one of the small turquoise-colored pots the decorator had used to bring the room together. Something glittered in the bottom of the little container.
Renee drew out a ring with a stone of gorgeous purple amethyst in its center. The setting definitely had the sheen of platinum and the look of hand wrought art. It went well with her current shade of auburn hair. She slipped the ring over her knuckle. Loose, made for a bigger hand, but definitely not something Bodey would wear. Maybe, another woman had left it here. Or the ring had been intended for another woman. Perhaps, Bodey would take the hint and give it to her once he saw her wearing nothing but the ring. Smiling a big, toothy grin, Renee went for her swim.
