Mango Key

by Bill H Myers

  Following Kat's directions, it took less than ten minutes to get back to Uncle Leo's.

  Lori and Buck were inside the motorhome waiting for me when I arrived. They were sitting on the couch, side by side, each holding a glass of wine.

  “You started the party without me?” I asked.

  Lori nodded. “We did. You're going to be the designated driver, so there wasn't any reason for us to wait. And anyway, we're celebrating.”

  “Celebrating? Something happen?”

  “Walker, don't act so coy. We know what you did.”

  “Me? What’d I do?”

  She took a sip of her wine. “You somehow arranged for my sister and me to have a suite at the Ocean Key Resort for the next three days. That's what you did.

  “Plus you got us reservations at the Hot Tin Roof for dinner tonight. I don't know how you did it, but I got a call telling me everything was taken care of, compliments of you.

  “So yeah, we know what you did and we're celebrating. Go change clothes and be quick about it because we don't want to be late for dinner.”

  I headed to the back, confused but pretty sure that Kat had arranged the room and the dinner reservations and had done it in my name. I'd have to ask her about it when she called.

  I changed into clean shorts and a button up shirt. I gave Bob a pet and headed back up front.

  Buck and Lori were waiting for me. Both had suitcases at their feet. Lori pointed at hers. “Walker, you and Bob are going to be the only ones sleeping in the motorhome tonight. I'll be at the Ocean Key with my sister and Buck will be staying with his lady friend. That means you're on your own.”

  I smiled. “On my own in Key West? That doesn't sound so bad. I'll probably survive.”

  Buck nodded. “I'm sure you will. But right now, it's time to go. You're driving.”

  We went out to the car and I loaded the suitcases into the back. Surprisingly, the little Prius had a fairly large storage area under the rear hatch, more than enough room for the two suitcases. Once we were all settled in with seat belts buckled, I started the car and we headed to Key West.

  Buck gave me directions. “Follow US1 to Duval Street. Turn right and follow it to the Ocean Key Resort. Pull up to the door and use their valet.”

  It took ten minutes to get there. The valet took the car and arranged to have Lori's suitcase delivered to her room. Buck left his in the car. He said he'd get it later when I dropped him off at the guest house.

  Lori's sister was waiting for us in the lobby. She looked to be Lori's age, maybe a bit younger. Tall and on the thin side with sun streaked, auburn hair and a deep tan. Smile lines around her green eyes suggested she spent a lot of time outdoors.

  Lori introduced us. Buck first, then me.

  “Walker, this is Summer, my sister.”

  I smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Summer.”

  She smiled back. “So you're Walker? You're the one that made this happen? The suite, the dinner reservations?”

  I shook my head. “I didn't do it on my own. I had help.”

  “Well, whoever helped you did a good job.”

  She grabbed my hand and said, “Let's go eat.” Then she led me and the others to the upstairs restaurant.

  When we arrived, the host confirmed our reservations and said we'd be seated shortly. While waiting for our table, the restaurant manager came out and introduced himself.

  “I'm Joseph, the manager of the Hot Tin Roof. All of us here are honored you've chosen to dine with us tonight. Knowing that you value your privacy, we have a very special table prepared for you.

  “Sandra will be your personal server. If you need anything, whether it's on the menu or not, ask her and she'll make it happen. And of course, if you wish to speak with me at any time, I'll be here.

  “Again, we are honored you have chosen to dine with us tonight.”

  Joseph bowed and turned us over to Sandra. She greeted us with a smile and led us across the restaurant to a corner table. The long, glass wall beside the table provided a panoramic view of Key West Harbor below and the docks near Mallory Square.

  “Will this be satisfactory?”

  Buck nodded. “Yes, this is perfect.”

  “Would you like for me to set up the privacy curtain?”

  Buck shook his head. “No, I don't think that will be necessary.”

  We took our seats and Sandra asked if we would like to order drinks. Lori and Summer ordered wine, Buck ordered a Manhattan. As the designated driver, I ordered a ginger ale.

  Three minutes later, our drinks arrived. After they had been placed on the table, Sandra asked if we wanted to see menus. Lori said, “Yes,” and asked about the specials of the day.

  According to Sandra, the specials included caramelized grouper, scallop risotto and stuffed lobster. Lori and Summer decided to go with the scallop risotto. Buck ordered a steak, and I went with the grouper.

  When Sandra went to the kitchen with our orders, Lori asked, “Why are we getting special treatment? They seem to be going out of their way to make sure we're happy. What'd you tell them when you made the reservations?”

  She was asking me and I didn't know the answer. I didn't make the reservations. Kat had arranged everything. Rather than tell her the truth, I said, “It's Buck. He's a celebrity. They recognized him from his movies and TV show. They're doing it because of him.”

  I wasn't sure Lori believed me, but she seemed satisfied with my answer because she didn't ask any follow-up questions. I, on the other hand, wondered what Kat's friend had said when our dinner reservations were made. I would be sure to ask about it next time I saw her.

  While we waited for our meals, Lori and Summer talked, mostly about how much they missed each other and what each of them had been doing in their lives. They laughed about things from their past, wondered about people they'd gone to high school with, and talked about their future plans.

  For the most part, Buck and I stayed out of the conversation, letting the two sisters enjoy their reunion.

  Twenty minutes later, our food arrived and the conversation went into pause mode while we ate. Between bites, Lori and Summer commented on how great the meal was and how they needed to do this more often.

  After our plates had been cleared away, Sandra asked if we wanted to see the desert menu. Both Lori and Summer said, “No,” they were stuffed. I got the feeling they were in a hurry to go outside and join the growing crowd of revelers on Duval Street and Mallory Square.

  When Sandra reappeared and asked if we needed anything, I asked for the check. She shook her head and said, “It's been taken care of.”

  I looked at Buck and he didn't seem surprised. Apparently this was one of the perks of being a celebrity.

  I left two twenties on the table, and we headed out.

  Downstairs, in the hotel lobby, Lori said she and Summer were going to their room to freshen up and then they were going out for a walk. She didn't invite me to join them, but did say I needed to be back at the hotel at nine in the morning with the car to pick them up.

  No mention was made of the guy who was causing problems for Summer. I figured I'd find out about him the next morning.

  After Lori and Summer headed up to their room, I retrieved the car from the valet. Buck gave me directions to the guest house where he'd be staying. It was the same place I'd dropped Kat off earlier.

  When we arrived, I parked in front and helped him get his suitcase out of the back. “You want help carrying that in?”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I can handle it from here. You know the way back?”

  “Yeah. I was here earlier.”

  “You were with Katrina. How'd that go?”

  I wasn't sure how it went, so I just said, “It was interesting.”

  Buck smiled. “Good. Just don't make her mad.”

  Before I could ask him why, he walked into the guest house, suitcase in hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was just after ten in the ev
ening. I had dropped Buck off at the guest house, and Lori and Summer were doing the bars on Duval Street. I was alone. In Key West.

  There were plenty of places I could go. Lots of bars were open, lots of people on the street. I could park and wander around, walk among the crowds, maybe get something to drink. Probably find a way to get into trouble.

  But it'd been a long day. I didn't really feel like partying so I just headed back to the motorhome.

  When I pulled into Uncle Leo's, many of the guests were outside sitting around campfires, drinking and having a good time with friends. Most had music playing in the background, not so loud as to break the quiet hours rules, but loud enough that it could be heard from my site.

  The music didn't bother me. I was glad my neighbors were having a good time. That's why they'd come to Key West, to have a good time. I wasn't going to begrudge them that. Just because I wasn't in a partying mood didn't mean they shouldn't be.

  Bob was on the couch grooming himself when I opened the door. He didn't seem too concerned about me being gone most of the evening or about the partying outside. He just looked up at me and grunted. I grunted back. “Hey Bob, what's up?”

  He opened his mouth and yawned. Then he went back to grooming, licking his front paw and using it to clean his ears. Life was pretty simple for Bob. Eat, sleep, poop and groom.

  I checked the fridge and found a half empty bottle of wine. Pouring myself a glass, I pulled out my laptop and set it on the kitchen table. Even though I was tired, I wanted to check my email to see if I'd gotten anything important. I had recently taken on a client who wanted me to test the security of their corporate network. I'd already started the testing and had found a few problems. I had emailed the client a preliminary report showing what I'd found and was expecting to hear back from him.

  So far nothing. That's the way it works in the corporate world. The report would have to reviewed, sent to a committee, get management approval and then they might get back to me. It could take weeks. In the meantime, any entry level hacker would have no problem getting into their network and doing a world of damage. I'd told them so in my report. It was up to them to decide what to do next.

  Scanning through my email, I only found one message worth reading. It was from Lawyer Bob, the attorney who had handled my divorce and arranged the non-disclosure payment I'd received from my former employer.

  His message was short and to the point. “Walker, we need to talk. Call me.”

  Like many attorneys, he was careful not to say anything in emails that might compromise his or his client's privacy. Better safe than sorry, but it meant that, other than telling me to call him, I had no idea what he wanted to talk about.

  Lawyer Bob didn't have my current phone number so there was no way he could call me and talk about whatever he felt we needed to talk about. It was no accident he didn't have the number, it was something we had agreed on. If he didn't have the number, he couldn't be forced to give it to anyone else.

  It wasn't that I had anything to hide, just that there weren't too many people from my past I wanted to talk to. My new life in Florida didn't involve them. I'd dumped my old phone and gotten a new one with a new number and kept it private. I figured the fewer people who knew it the less chance they'd share it with others.

  Lawyer Bob and I had agreed to only communicate via short email messages. He'd send me one saying I needed to call him and I'd call him back on a burner phone—one that couldn't be traced to me or my location. I usually carried one in the motorhome and wouldn't activate it until I needed it. But on this trip, I didn't have one, which meant I needed to buy one before I could call Lawyer Bob back.

  To help me remember to get a burner, I starred his email in my in-box. Then I went through the rest of the emails, deleted the spam and powered down the computer. I finished off my wine while listening to an acoustic guitar solo from the partiers outside.

  Whoever was playing was pretty good. I listened to a few more of their songs then decided it was time to hit the sack. After I locked up the motorhome and filled Bob's food and water bowls, I headed to the back bedroom.

  The combination of the long drive, the big meal and the wine meant I didn't have any trouble getting to sleep.

  The next morning, Bob nudged me awake. He was using his head to push against mine, purring loudly into my ear. I reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Bob, I'm awake. Give me a minute, I'll get up.”

  But I didn't. Instead, I went back to sleep. Bob helped. He curled up beside me, his warm body tight against my ribs, purring loudly until he dozed off. At some point, I dozed off too.

  The chiming of my phone woke us both. At the first chime, Bob was up and out of the bed, leaving me behind.

  I grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID. It showed “Lori”. I answered.

  “Morning Lori, you have a good night?”

  “Yeah, we did. Stayed out past midnight. Listened to a lot of music, met some fun people. What about you?”

  “I had a good night too. So what's the plan today?”

  “You know the plan. You're supposed to come pick us up and take us to Summer's cart. She's going to give you a tour and tell you about the guy who's bothering her.

  “You were supposed to be here at nine this morning, but it looks like you're running late. Think you'll get here any time soon?”

  The clock on the phone showed nine fifteen. I'd overslept, but I didn't tell Lori this. “I'll be there soon. About thirty minutes. Will that work?”

  I could hear her talking to someone in the background, probably to Summer. “Yeah, thirty minutes will work. We'll be outside waiting for you. Don't be late.”

  She ended the call.

  I took a quick shower, pulled on clean clothes and grabbed a breakfast bar on the way out the door.

  Exactly thirty minutes after her call, I pulled up in front of the Ocean Key Resort.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lori and Summer were waiting for me. Both looked happy. Smiles on their faces. No signs of a hangover. Lori got in the back seat and Summer got in up front with me. I didn't know how to get to the food truck so she gave me directions.

  “Stay on Duval until you reach Caroline. Turn left there and keep going until you see the big parking lot. Pull in the lot and park near the back.”

  I nodded and we headed out. Two blocks later, I turned left on Caroline and four blocks after that we reached the parking lot. I pulled in, grabbed a time stamped ticket from the booth and headed to the back. Halfway there, Summer said, “Park over there, by the Fish Wagon.”

  The Fish Wagon wasn't a wagon. It was ramshackle, metal roofed building in the back left corner of the parking lot. The blue tarp stretched over the side of the building suggested the roof probably leaked. Sea shells hung haphazardly along the leaning fence that separated the Fish Wagon from the parking lot. A hand painted sign identified the jumble of wood as the 'Fish Wagon'.

  Summer pointed to an empty space near it and said, “Park there.”

  I coasted into the space and killed the motor. Summer got out and opened the back door for Lori. I waited until they were both out then locked the car and joined them. “It's over there,” Summer said while pointing across the street. “Follow me.”

  She stepped into the street, dodging a young girl on a scooter. Three more scooters followed close behind and we waited until they were clear before we crossed. On the other side of the street, Summer led us to a white, double axle cargo trailer tucked in an alleyway between Pepe's Cafe and a two-story building that looked like it would collapse with a strong wind.

  “This is the place. Give me a minute and I'll open it up so you can see what it looks like.”

  So far, it looked like a plain, white cargo trailer wedged between two buildings. The tongue of the trailer was facing the street. The back side, where the door was, was facing the back of the alley. A small sign on the front of the trailer said, “Wiener Girl.”

  Summer disappeared down the alley, un
locked the trailer's door and went in. A few moments later, she pushed open a panel that had been covering the street side front window. She used a pulley to pull the panel vertical so it stood against the top of the trailer.

  The panel now facing the street had the words “Wiener Girl” painted in large, red letters. Underneath were the words, “Key West Hot Dogs to Go”

  With the panel open, daylight streamed into the trailer and we could see Summer working inside. She reached above her head and pulled down on a rope to open the long side panel. Instead of pulling the panel all the way up, she stopped it at a ninety degree angle. This created an awning over a long, stainless steel counter where customers could place orders and be in the shade. The overhead panel would also keep the inside of the trailer dry should a rain storm come up.

  It had taken Summer less than ten minutes to get the panels open and secure. After that, she fooled around another minute, then came out carrying two white boards, both with handwritten menus on them. She hung one on the front of the trailer and the other on the side.

  She went back inside and came out with four brightly colored T-shirts, each with the Wiener Girl logo printed on the front. She hung these on the front side of the trailer so they could be seen from the street.

  When done, she turned to us and said, “Come on in. I want to show you how it works.”

  Lori went in first and I followed. The trailer was narrow and had a prep station on one side, a counter on the other. With the three of us inside, it was tight fit. I stayed near the door, trying to stay out of the way of the two girls.

  Summer pointed at three slow cookers on the prep station. “This is where I cook the hot dogs. Beef wieners go into the blue one, sausages in the red one, and veggie dogs in the green one. I've labeled each cooker to make it easy to remember.”

  She opened a small fridge under the counter and pulled out a plastic bag filled with raw wieners. She carefully counted out fifty and dropped them in the cooker labeled “All Beef.” She put the bag back in the fridge and repeated the process with the sausages and veggie dogs.

  “We sell about a hundred hot dogs a day. Most people order beef or sausage. But a few go for the veggie dogs so I always have some ready.”