Drunk on a Boat

by Zane Mitchell

  He startled but didn’t miss a beat. “Finally! What took ya so long?”

  I grinned at him. “You were waiting for me?”

  “Eh?” He cupped the back of his ear.

  “You were waiting for me?” I yelled.

  “Course I was. Artie called and said you were havin’ a bad day and thought you might wanna talk.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s hardly even nine thirty yet. How does a guy have a bad day this early?”

  “I’m just one of the lucky ones, I guess.”

  He thumbed the passenger’s seat. “Get in.”

  Walking around to the other side of the golf cart, I climbed in next to him. “Were you napping?” I said loudly.

  “Napping?” he repeated.

  I nodded.

  He swatted a hand at the air. “Eh, who knows. You know what they say, regular naps prevent old age.”

  “Yeah, I’ve never heard that before.”

  “No, it’s true. Especially if you take ’em while you’re driving.” He chuckled at his own punch line as he put the golf cart in gear.

  I fought the urge to smile and instead lifted my brows. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

  He shot me a scowl.

  “You know, you Germans really should throw a pie after you tell a joke. That way the rest of us know when to laugh.”

  “Such a smart-ass,” mumbled Al. “You know you really coulda been a comedian.”

  “You think?”

  He nodded his head as his foot fell heavily on the gas, forcing the golf cart to lurch forward. “Yeah, the only thing you’re missing is a sense of humor.”

  I rolled my eyes at him as we breezed down the cobblestone hill. “Why aren’t you wearing your hearing aids?”

  He glanced over at me. “Eh?”

  “Your hearing aids!” I shouted, pointing at my ears.

  “Gall-darned batteries died. Evie said she’d run into town later and pick some up for me.”

  “Tell her to pick up extras. Your age is showing,” I shouted. I hated hollering at him. Al was youthful until he took out his hearing aids, at which point he instantaneously became an old man.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, cruising along the cobblestone street that snaked between the main resort building on the right and the three-storied motel buildings on the left. Palm trees provided shade along the beautifully landscaped corridor. Lizards played in the mulch and among the low shrubbery while birds chirped overhead. Desi was correct. Every day was indeed a beautiful day on Paradise Isle. Even days when my ex showed up uninvited.

  Our pace picked up towards the bottom of the incline just as we began to see the Pepto-Bismol-pink cottages poking out from around the back side of the resort. Cottages one and two were quiet. When we passed cottage number three, we both gave a wave to Al’s wife, who was shaking a rug out the side door of their duplex.

  I pointed at the fully restored sky-blue 1978 Toyota Land Cruiser parked in the driveway of cottage number five. “I see Gary got his Land Cruiser fixed.”

  “Yup,” said Al. “Can’t even see the bullet holes anymore. It’s good as new.”

  “I bet Gary was happy.”

  “Happier than a camel on hump day.”

  Then we passed my old cottage, number eleven. Vic and Shirley Hoffman had come back from their monthlong trip to the States, thereby kicking me out of my old place, which was how I’d recently ended up living in employee housing on the back side of the resort, next door to Artie.

  “Shirley say anything about that broken vase?” I asked Al.

  Al’s puffy eyebrows shot up. “Oooh, that woman was hot. She said it was a gift from her sister.”

  “Did you tell her it wasn’t my fault?”

  “I tried. She didn’t seem to care much. I’m sure she’ll have a word to say to you about it.” We both jerked sideways as Al cruised over a speed bump at forty miles an hour. “How do you like your new place?”

  I shrugged. “It’s bigger. And Artie lets me use his pool, so that’s nice. But I miss my beach view, and I’ve got a parrot problem I need to deal with.”

  We got to the end of the resort property, and Al cranked the steering wheel and we veered left to make a U-turn at the end of the resort property. He backed up and hit the tire of his new golf cart against the brick edging. “Dammit.”

  “You’re gonna wreck this thing before you can even put insurance on it.”

  “I already put insurance on it. Dang price of insurance was ridiculous. It’s a gall-darned golf cart, not a Lexus. You know I got the extra-long cart for hauling your ass around the resort.”

  “So I’ve heard. In other news, did you know that old men tend to repeat themselves?”

  “Old men?” He scowled in my direction. “You see any old men around here?”

  I pretended to look around. “Nope. I guess not.”

  He nodded. “Dang skippy.”

  Headed back in the same direction we’d just come from, I leaned back in my seat and extended my long legs over the front of the dash until they poked out the side of the cart. “We just taking the Panther out for a joy ride, or are we going somewhere in particular?”

  Al lifted his newspaper off the seat beside him and reached over and smacked my legs with it. “Whatsamatter with you? Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners? This is a top-of-the-line nine-thousand-dollar high-tech piece of equipment, kid, not some dirty old La-Z-Boy you picked up at a yard sale for a song.”

  I groaned and scooted upward, planting my flip-flops on the floor. “Whatever you say, Grandpa.” I needed a nap. The vomiting had helped ease the symptoms of my hangover, but it hadn’t eased the exhaustion that now plagued me. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to the one place that’ll make your bad day all better.”

  “You’re taking me to bed?” I gave him a lopsided grin. “I mean, Al, don’t get me wrong. I like you and all, but I’m not sure that we’re there yet.”

  He backhanded me. “I’m taking you to the swim-up bar, you moron. Now hang on tight. I’m gonna open this thing up.”

  5

  Bouncy Caribbean music poured out of a pair of fifteen-inch JBL speakers down by the pool. The tropical sun shone brightly, reflecting off the serene, glassy blue water and making it sparkle like aquamarine set in a concrete band. Fifty feet ahead sat Angels Bay, an inlet off the Caribbean Sea. After a few weeks of residence on the island, I’d come to learn that the Seacoast Majestic shared its sprawling man-made sandy coastline with two other large resorts in the bay: Crystal Point Resort and Margaritaville. But as the only non-chain resort, we boasted better oceanfront views and a more laid-back, authentic island experience, which I gladly attested to.

  As Al and I made our way from the golf cart parking area, I scanned the scene. To my left was the resort’s clubhouse, a big white farmhouse style building with a covered wraparound porch. Inside was the fancy dining restaurant called The Beachgoer, Club Seven, where Freddy Garcia held his singles dance classes on Thursday nights, a sports bar, a few party rooms, the men’s and women’s restrooms, and some public use computers all the way in the back. Only a handful of guests sat on the porch, sipping brightly garnished mimosas and nibbling on fresh fruit and croissants while taking in the breathtaking oceanside view.

  A few early-rising guests sat sprinkled around the beach and the pool in lounge chairs, absorbing the morning sunlight. Trinity and Alora, the girls that worked the snack shack over by the hot tubs and miniature golf putting greens, were setting up shop for the day. Seagulls already flocked to their windows, waiting for the fries they’d snatch off plates and the cast-off pieces of food that would be left for them to fight over.

  On the far side of the pool, next to the waterfall grotto, was a swim-up bar covered by bright blue umbrellas. The bar had two sides, one that faced the pool for the swimmers and one that faced the ocean, so people coming in off the water or sunbathers could walk up and get a drink without havin
g to track sand into one of the many indoor bars. Al and I took our usual spots on stools in front of the bar.

  “Manny, how’s it hangin’, man?”

  The bartender offered me a fist bump across the counter. “It ain’t just hangin’, it’s draggin’, Drunk. Same as always.” Manny, who hailed from Puerto Rico, was a short, stocky man whose shoulders rode up high, next to his ears. The man, who had a smile for everyone that visited his bar, was chock-full of rhythm. Both he and his customers enjoyed the spontaneous dance moves he broke out from time to time. Next to Al, Manny was my favorite person on the island. Al and I visited him several times a day. Manny turned his attention to Al. “How you doin’, Al? You good? You wanna drink?”

  Al shook his head, but smiled. “Nah, Manny. It’s too early for a drink.”

  “Oh, come on, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s nine thirty here. Evie would have my hide if I started drinking this early in the day.”

  I shook my head. “I’m gonna have a talk with Evie. The woman’s cutting you off at the knees! How can a man live like that?”

  “How ’bout you, Drunk? What’s it gonna be today? A Cool and Deadly, a Bay Breeze, a margarita on the rocks?” Manny pulled a tall glass out from under the counter and waited for my order.

  “I’m just gonna have to keep it simple and go with a shot of tequila, Manny,” I said.

  Manny lifted his brows in surprise. “Straight tequila?”

  Al pounded his fist on the counter. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Drunk, pull yourself together. You’re not drinking tequila shots at nine thirty in the morning. I don’t care how hungover you happen to be.”

  I turned to Al and squinted at him. “Remind me. Did it hurt when you gave birth to me? I’m just curious.” I held a palm up. “Oh, wait, that’s right. It didn’t hurt because you’re not my mother.”

  Manny winced, widening his onyx eyes. “Ay, ay, ay! What’s the matter with this guy?” he asked Al, thumbing over his shoulder in my direction.

  Al shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest. Artie just told me to pick him up. Said he’s having a rough day and could use a friend, but he hasn’t said a word about what’s going on.”

  Manny turned and looked at me then. “Oh, does this have something to do with that little mami that was in the lobby with you earlier?”

  I tipped my head sideways. “How do you know about that? That was literally like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Hey, man, word travels fast around here. You should know that.”

  “Apparently.” I shook my head. “How’s that shot coming?”

  Manny pulled a shot glass out from under the counter, but Al shoved it away.

  “Manny, give the man a mimosa for crying out loud. He doesn’t need a shot of tequila this early in the morning.”

  I stared at Al but didn’t say anything. If he wanted me to start with mimosas, I could start with mimosas. The tequila could come later. What difference did it make to me?

  My silence was all the permission Manny needed, and he set about making me my drink.

  Al swiveled on his barstool so he could face me. “So, all this…” He drew a little squiggle in the air with his gnarled hand. “This is about a woman?”

  I didn’t say anything. I really didn’t feel like talking about it. In fact, all I wanted to do was to forget about the fact that Pam was even on the island.

  “Which woman?” he pressed. “The one that Mariposa just hired? That you were schmoozing last night at the bar?”

  I shook my head and let out a deep sigh. “Nah, it wasn’t Mack.”

  “Who, then?”

  When I wouldn’t say anything, he turned to Manny. “You know who it was, Manny?”

  Manny slid my bright orange drink across the bar.

  The ocean seemed to sigh, pushing a fine spray of salty ocean water across my back. The lukewarm mist felt good against the heat. I slid a finger down the sides of my glass, drawing a line in the condensation. The cold against my warm fingertips felt good too. I lifted it to my mouth and took a long swallow.

  Mmm. Refreshing.

  And in that single, solitary moment of bliss, I remembered that I lived in fucking paradise. Nothing else mattered anymore. I let out a long sigh.

  “No, I have no idea who it was. All I know is that she grabbed him.” Cupping his hand, Manny grinned from ear to ear. “You know. She grabbed his cojones. Right in the middle of the lobby during check-in time.” He laughed like it’d been the funniest thing he’d heard all week.

  Al’s brows hoisted upwards, wrinkling his bald, liver-spotted forehead. “Oh my. I bet that caused quite the stir. No wonder word made it down here already. Now we just need to know who the little dame was.” Al looked at me as Manny’s head bobbed.

  I sighed. They weren’t going to let it go until they solved the big mystery. My upper torso crumpled forward onto the bar top. “Ugh, it was Pam, alright?”

  “Pam?” said Al, in shock. “You don’t mean the woman who stood you up at the altar, do you?”

  I sat up sharply. “She didn’t leave me at the altar, Al!” I barked. But he knew that already. I wondered if it was his eighty-seven-year-old memory that had made him forget, or if he was just fucking with me. If it was a game, I certainly didn’t want to play.

  Al held his hands up defensively. “Hey, don’t get mad at me! I wasn’t the one who did it.”

  “I caught her cheating,” I muttered, as if that made it much better in anyone’s minds. I know it certainly didn’t make me feel any better. More than hating the fact that it had happened, I hated talking about it. Being cheated on by someone that you thought you loved hurt. Probably more than I cared to admit. Not only did it burn something deep inside of me, it was embarrassing. I had been cheated on. I wasn’t good enough. The whole thing made me wonder why I’d even wanted to grow up and be in a relationship to begin with. Now that I’d been burned, I truly didn’t see the point in monogamy. No. I wasn’t ever punching my relationship card again. I was going back to the old Drunk. That guy was more fun anyway.

  “And now she’s here? On the island?” asked Manny, grinning. “You two gonna get back together?”

  I puffed air out my nose. “Oh, hell no! No, I’m putting her on a flight back to the States tomorrow. This island isn’t big enough for the both of us.” I lifted my fedora and smoothed back my hair. Popping it back onto my head, I drained the rest of my mimosa and slid my glass forward. “Hit me.”

  Al shook his head sadly. “Boy, she really did a number on ya, huh, kid?”

  Before I could respond, a familiar thick Caribbean accent piped up behind me. “Hiya, Drunk.”

  I swiveled on my barstool to see Trinity, the snack bar girl, standing behind me with a beige bussing tub propped up on her aproned hip. Trinity was a beautiful girl, with big green eyes that sparkled when the sun hit them just right and dark, almost obsidian skin that looked smooth as satin. She and I had a playful relationship. Perhaps she’d flirted with me a bit over the last few weeks, but I’d never made a move on her. She was twenty-two years old but looked like she was barely legal. I think if I’d touched her, I’d have felt like a pedophile, so I’d kind of subconsciously relegated her to kid sister status.

  “Morning, Trin,” I said with a grin.

  Her smile back at me was playful and curious. She turned her green eyes onto Al. “Good mornin’, Mr. Becker. How are ya feelin’ this lovely mornin’?”

  “I’m feeling well, thank you. And yourself?”

  “I’m feelin’ just fine,” she said, the rhythm of her speech hypnotic. She turned to me. “So, whatcha know, Drunk?”

  “What do I know?” I quirked a brow. If I had to guess, word about the scene in the lobby earlier had traveled to her ears as well. But I’d play it cool and feel her out. “Not much. You?”

  “I heard ya got a woman from the States came to see ya this mornin’.”

  “Did you?” I shook my head. I wanted to slam my fist int
o a wall. Now I’d be explaining Pam away to every single woman at the resort.

  Fuck.

  “I did. Sounds like she was very interested in ya.”

  “It was his fiancée,” interjected Manny with a grin.

  “Ex,” I said pointedly. “Ex-fiancée. She’s leaving tomorrow.”

  Trinity’s eyes brightened, as if she’d just been fed an even juicier piece of gossip. I wanted to reach across the bar and slug Manny. “Is she now? Why so soon?”

  “Pressing obligations in the States,” I lied, nodding my head. I certainly didn’t need every woman in the resort knowing I’d been cheated on. That could have a negative effect on some of the girls I’d been messing around with. You know? It might lower my stock. “She couldn’t stay. She just flew out here so we could say our goodbyes properly.”

  “I see.” Trinity swept her long black braids over her shoulder. “Well, I hear she’s a pretty little thing.”

  I nodded. That she was. I couldn’t deny it. I gave Trinity a tight smile and a little wave. “She sure is. Well, you have a good day, Trin. Lemme know when you got your grills fired up. I’ll stop over to the snack bar for one of your amazing grilled chicken wraps.”

  She nodded at me, a slow smile pouring across her face. “You have a good one too, Drunk.” She smiled at Al and Manny. “Gentlemen, I’ll talk to ya all later.”

  She sauntered away. I was thankful to get rid of her. I hated the fact that everyone at the resort was going to have their noses all up in my business now. Was nothing sacred between a man and his slutty ex-fiancée anymore?

  “Is that why she came out here?” asked Al. “So you two could say your goodbyes properly?”

  “No, she came out here because she wanted me to take her back,” I snapped.

  “And?”

  I looked at Al with my mouth gaping. “You really think I’d take her back?”