Pursuing Chase

by C J Schnier

  “What, like the governor? I know Rick Scott is in his last term, but I’ve never even heard of this Valentine guy. I always figured Charlie Crist would want to run for governor again.”

  “No, he’s not looking at running for governor, at least not yet. He wants to be on the state senate. But the incumbent he would have to run against is popular. Polls show Valentine as a major underdog. He needs some way to discredit his rival even to have a chance of winning.”

  “And that’s where we come in?” I asked.

  “That’s where you come in,” he corrected. “I’m staying out of this. Politics ain’t my thing.”

  “Ok, so he wants me to damage this other guy’s reputation so that he can win. Can I trust this Maxwell Valentine?”

  “He’s running for high-level politics, of course you can’t trust him. But you can trust that he will pay you if you do whatever it is that he wants.”

  “What time are we leaving in the morning to meet this guy?”

  “0830 sharp. The meeting is at 0930. That should give us plenty of time to get there,” he responded.

  “Sounds good,” I said at last and glanced up at the TV in the corner of the Tiki hut.

  Andy had it turned to the weather channel, and an image of a massive hurricane churning over the Gulf Coast of Texas struck a chill in me. Under the picture, a caption read, “Hurricane Harvey dumps record rainfall on South Texas.” Every few minutes the screen would switch from the satellite view of the storm to horrific scenes of massive flooding in the Houston area.

  I had spent a lot of time in that area when I worked on towboats, and a lot of my old friends would be stuck working extra days on those boats dealing with this storm. I didn’t envy them at all. Houston was the country’s main port for oil. It wouldn’t be long before prices across the country began to rise. I just hoped that the damage would be minimal.

  “Looks like it might be bad this hurricane season,” Andy said with a hint of sadness. “After you meet with Valentine I may take off and go back to Crystal River until fall. It’s as good a hurricane hole as any and better than most.

  “Yeah, I hear you on that. The sooner I can get this job done and get out of South Florida, the safer I will feel. Being in Hurricane Alley in August isn’t exactly what I had in mind when we left Gulfport a couple of months back.”

  “I hear ya brother, I just hope they all miss us. We’re way overdue to get smacked by one.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Our loaner car was delivered just after 1700 as promised. Andy and I were still sitting at the outdoor kitchen when we heard a vehicle arrive. Kelly had joined us not long before, rested from her own nap, though she too complained about the heat and lack of moving air.

  Andy led us over to the locked gate that I had found earlier. “The code is simple,” he said, “321-123.”

  “Are you kidding me? That is the passcode to open the gate to this ridiculous house?” I scoffed.

  Kelly chuckled, “That’s like using password as your password.”

  Andy just smiled and swung the gate open. The gate opened up into another well manicured and landscaped lawn. A flagstone pathway led a curved path down the side of the house and over to the driveway, which of course was gated.

  Two vehicles sat idling in the driveway. One was a plain black BMW 325i with tinted windows and little else to distinguish it. The other was a black Cadillac Escalade that also had dark tinted windows. Both vehicles were new but not expensive enough that they would draw any attention in a high-income area such as this.

  The driver of the BMW stepped out, and both Andy’s and my jaw dropped. Instead of some rich guy’s lackey, a drop dead gorgeous Latina woman with jet black hair pulled into a tight bun and designer sunglasses emerged from the car. She wore a light gray linen blazer and a matching hip-hugging skirt. To complement the outfit, she wore a low-cut white blouse that left little to the imagination. As she stooped to get out, we both strained to see just how revealing it was. I could literally hear Kelly’s eye roll next to us.

  The driver turned to us and struck a pose, jutting one hip out and leaning forward like a car-calendar model. Her smile let us know just how aware she was of what it would do to us. “Ok boys, keys are in the ignition. Take good care of her,” she cooed in a seductive Spanish accent and turned to walk towards the waiting Escalade.

  Andy and I both watched her walk away, mesmerized by her swinging hips. The three-inch heels she wore showed off her rear, filling out the back of her tight skirt. Later on, Andy and I agreed that neither of us could find a panty line anywhere. A cough brought us out of our ogling stupor.

  “Men,” Kelly spat, walking over to the car after the driver had climbed into the Escalade.

  “What?” We both said in unison and with as much innocence as possible.

  When the door to the Escalade closed, the vehicle pulled around the U-shaped driveway to one of the gates. The driver rolled their window down and punched a code into the keypad. A second later the gate slid back on its track, and they exited the compound heading back for a more urban section of town.

  Andy slapped me on the shoulder and said, “I wonder what the driver of the other car looked like!”

  I just shook my head.

  “It’s a manual, looks like one of you two will have to drive,” Kelly said.

  “You don’t know how to drive a manual transmission car?” I asked surprised.

  “Never had to learn, we always had automatics.”

  “You can pilot a fifteen-ton boat with ease and pick up sailing in a matter of months. If we get the time, I’m teaching you how to drive a stick shift.”

  “Why don’t you teach Ms. Chiquita Banana back there?” She said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the leaving Escalade.

  “Because obviously she already knows, silly,” I answered winking at her but also noting the tinge of jealousy in her voice. “How’s it look, Andy?”

  “Well, it’s pretty plain. Leather seats, all the standard options. Nothing fancy. Just a basic entry-level BMW. We should blend in everywhere except the slums of Miami in this thing. And even there, most people won’t look twice.”

  “Fantastic,” I said, glad that just for once, we didn’t have to ride around in something like the old Buick LeSabre that we had borrowed from Frank back in Marathon or Andre’s old Nissan. “Grab the keys and lock it. I know we all slept into the afternoon but let’s get some grub and turn in early. I don’t know about y'all, but I could use some more sleep.”

  Andy and Kelly both agreed. We made our way back to the outdoor kitchen. Andy and I both poured ourselves another beer and took our places on the bar stools under the flatscreen that continued to play images of Hurricane Harvey on repeat. I offered Kelly a drink, but she refused, claiming that she wanted to take a swim in the pool before the sunset. She trotted off down the dock and disappeared into Paramour.

  Andy started talking about the damage that the hurricane was doing. It had appeared to stall over Houston and continued to dump an unimaginable amount of rain on the area.

  Something bright on the dock caught my attention, and I turned to see Kelly strutting up the dock in her tiny yellow bikini, one she usually reserved for just me and deserted islands. Andy droned on, but I couldn’t hear him, all my attention was focused on the absolute beauty that was sauntering down the dock and walkway.

  Kelly didn’t look at me. She chose instead to take a slow and deliberate path past us that gave me a perfect view of her body. She stopped at the edge of the deep end, looked back at me, and winked before bending over and diving in. She surfaced, whipped her dark hair straight back and then rolled over and locked eyes with me.

  “Damn,” Andy whispered in awe, now staring at her too. “I think I’ll head on back to the boat, I’m more tired than I thought.” He clapped me on the shoulder and headed down the dock.

  Kelly waited until Andy was out of sight and then waved her finger at me, beckoning me. I stood up and pulled my T-shirt of
f, leaving just my swim trunks. At the edge of the pool, I kicked my flip flops off and dove in, surfacing right by her in the shallow end. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tight, pressing herself into me. I could feel myself starting to stir.

  “Do you think I’m pretty Chase?” she asked demurely.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Prettier than that woman from earlier?”

  “What woman?” I asked and pulled her closer, kissing her.

  “Good answer,” she gasped once our kiss ended. “ With those kinds of answers maybe I should ask you some more questions…”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  I woke up at dawn as is my typical custom. Ever since working offshore, with its bizarre six-hour shifts, my sleeping patterns have never been normal. Disentangling myself from Kelly, I made my way out into the salon trying to be as quiet as possible.

  Paramour had no fresh food left onboard after several weeks in the remote Bahamian islands. With our rushed departure from Freeport, we didn’t have time to get any provisions. Our coffee supply was getting low, and the lockers were nearly bare except for oatmeal. That just wasn’t going to do.

  I slid the companionway hatch back and stepped out into the dew-laden cockpit and then stepped onto the soaking wet dock. The summer humidity in Florida leaves everything wet. Some people like to sit in their cockpits and drink coffee. I wasn’t a fan of having a wet ass first thing in the morning.

  Under the thatched roof of the outdoor kitchen, it was bearably dry, though even under shelter the humidity had permeated nearly everything. I searched through a few cabinets until I finally found what I was looking for, a bag of coffee and a huge insulated French press. The label read “Blue Mountain. A product of Jamaica.” The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I figured it must be expensive if it was in this guy’s house. Everything else was.

  The bag contained whole beans, and I had to search harder to find an electric grinder. Once ground up I fired up the big outdoor stove and put on a pot of water. While the water heated, I looked in the fridge. There had to be something worth eating for breakfast. The refrigerator was well stocked, and I pulled out a pack of bacon and a dozen eggs. Checking the dates, I was surprised to find they were both good. Who stocks this place when nobody is here?

  I found a large, well-seasoned cast iron skillet in the same cabinet I had found the pot for the coffee. I fired up a second burner and placed the skillet on the fire. We were in business.

  Kelly and Andy both staggered down the dock fifteen minutes later. Andy wore only a pair of boxer shorts, comfortable in his lack of clothes. Kelly had put on one of my T-shirts and perhaps a pair of panties, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “God that smells amazing, it woke me out of a deep sleep,” Andy said saddling up to the bar.

  “Coffee’s on the counter,” I said pointing to the press and two waiting mugs. “Eggs will be done in a minute.”

  Kelly poured coffee into one cup and then handed it Andy before pouring one for herself. She took a sip and nearly gasped.

  “Holy crap that is good!” she exclaimed. “What is it?”

  “Some brand called Blue Mountain. Sounds familiar, but I would have remembered a cup of joe this good,” I replied.

  “Blue Mountain? Like from Jamaica Blue Mountain?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what it said on the bag. Why?”

  “It’s only considered the best coffee in the world. I’m sure that is over a hundred bucks worth in that pot.”

  I shrugged and turned back to the eggs. “It’s good, but I don’t know if it is that good.”

  Andy just drank his cup in silence.

  “I hope bacon and fried eggs are good with everyone,” I said, sliding a couple of eggs onto some plates, handing one to both Kelly and Andy.

  “More than alright,” Andy said and started eating.

  Once they both had eaten a bit off their plates, I decided to let them in on my plan for the day.

  “Yesterday Andy told me about this guy we’re going to see today, Maxwell Valentine. Apparently, he’s a big-shot rich developer who has political aspirations. Andy said he got his fortune in construction, so I’ll bet he’s rough around the edges. I’m used to those kinds of people, no matter how much money they have, they always respond to a straight shooter with confidence. That’ll be me. I’ll do most of the talking. Does he know the real reason we need this job?” I asked, looking at Andy.

  “I didn’t tell him any details, but he may ask. I’m sure he’ll be curious why someone he has never heard of suddenly wants to help him. I would advise that you tell him the truth,” Andy said between mouthfuls of egg.

  “Right. Honesty seems like the best approach with Valentine, ”I agreed. “So I’ll have Andy drop us off at the office and then wait with the car. We don’t have a phone to call you with so just try to park where you can see us.”

  “Wait. You’re not coming in with us?” Kelly asked confused.

  “No, I’m only here to set up a meeting. I don’t want to get involved.”

  “Ok,” she said. “So what am I supposed to do if you’re doing all the talking and Andy is our chauffeur?”

  “I need you to look pretty.”

  “Seriously? That’s it?”

  I had expected her hostility towards this part of the plan and was ready with an explanation. “Look, we’re telling Valentine the truth right? Well, that makes you the damsel in distress, and the better looking that damsel, the more likely someone like this guy will want to help. In fact, you should probably flirt with him a little. I doubt many men could resist your charms.”

  Kelly glared at me for a moment, but her look softened as she saw the logic. “Well you certainly couldn’t resist them last night, could you?” she said with a grin and a mischievous twinkle in those green eyes. Andy nearly spit out his coffee laughing.

  Andy cleaned up the mess from breakfast while Kelly and I got cleaned up and dressed. T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops had been my uniform for quite a while now, and it took some searching to find anything else. Crumpled in the corner of my clothes locker I noticed a musty and only moderately wrinkled pair of dark blue jeans. The hanging locker held my only button-down shirt, but when I took it out, I threw it in the trash. The constant motion of the boat had worn holes in the shoulders where it swung on the hanger and bumped into the door and wall with every wave.

  Instead of the button-down, I grabbed my only polo shirt, that thankfully I had rolled before storing. It only had a minor number of wrinkles and stains. It smelled musty from being stored so long, but it would air out. I hoped. Shoes were an easy choice. Since I wasn’t wearing flip-flops, I went with my formal footwear, a worn and beaten but comfortable pair of light leather topsiders. They really were the perfect second shoe choice for a boat bum and were acceptable everywhere in Florida or even most of the south. From the beach to formal dinners, a pair of topsiders were appropriate for anything except a black tie event. I’d never even been to a real black tie event.

  I brushed my hair back into a somewhat respectable ponytail and even trimmed up my beard. It had grown too long, and I could look a little intimidating to some people. After a hot shower in the luxurious outdoor pool shower, I was ready to go and waited for Kelly to finish getting ready.

  Like most women, she bought clothes that could be used for several purposes, a real advantage with the limited storage space on a boat. However, her limited selection made coming up with an acceptable outfit for what I had tasked her with difficult. When she finally came over to meet up with Andy and me, she wore a tight lacy top that invited a closer look, a pair of form-fitting khaki shorts, and her own pair of topsiders. Conservative, but still sexy on her.

  “That looks perfect,” I said ogling her.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself. I didn’t know you had decent clothes.”

  “They’re going right back in the bottom of the clothes locker as soon as we get back,” I said. Shorts were th
e only acceptable attire. I hated long pants, or as one friend calls them, long-sleeved shorts.

  “You two lovebirds about ready?” Andy asked, interrupting the start of our banter.

  “I guess we’re as ready as we’re going to get,” I said and followed Andy to the car.

  The black BMW was boring in every way, but at least it was a comfortable ride. It handled the bumps and potholes with ease, and when needed, it moved fast enough to beat traffic or avoid the insane drivers that seemed to come out of nowhere. The drivers here were aggressive and reckless, paying no attention to anything but themselves.

  Andy drove us through the streets of Ft. Lauderdale like he had lived there his whole life. I was glad that he was driving, the constant congestion and nightmarish traffic would have turned me into a nervous wreck. In fact, even in the passenger seat, I could feel my blood pressure rising. My natural habitat was on the water, not on the streets of a vast metropolitan area. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

  We stopped in front of a four-story white concrete and glass building with a sign that merely ready Valentine Inc. in bold block letters above the door.

  “Looks like our stop,” I said looking at the building. Like the BMW, it was nice, but not impressive. The building blended into the street. It was just another office building amongst many more that looked more-or-less like it.

  Kelly and I both got out of the car and were immediately blasted by the heat. I turned back to Andy before shutting the door. “Where will you be so we can find you when we’re done.”

  Andy pointed down the street to where a few spots looked to be open in front of an upscale strip mall.

  “I’m going to try to snag one of those spots,” he said.

  “Gotcha. See you soon,” I said closing the door and turning to Kelly. “Well, let’s go see if we can find some trouble to get into.”