“You’re close in your original idea. I’m a business manager for La Charlegne. I suppose you’ve heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t? Charlegne Jackson, right?”
“That’s the one.”
Josh’s face pulled itself into a plastic smile. “That…must be interesting.”
Steven allowed his eyebrows to reflect his surprise. Strange…that has to be the phoniest thing I’ve ever seen. Even phonier than when Charlegne compliments someone. “It allows me to see something of the world.”
“A dot like Catalina Island isn’t much of the world.”
“I go where I’m wanted.”
The adenoidal squeal rose above the road noise in repeated refrains of “I see it! I see it! I see it!”
Josh’s lips stretched into a smile. Steven noticed that it looked looser and more relaxed than the other one. “Don’t look now, Steven, but I think you’ve got your chance to escape from family matters.”
The shuttle pulled into the parking lot of the Airport-in-the-Sky. The herd of tourists scrambled to the edge of the lot where the landscape fell away into a huge bowl of a valley sprinkled with buffalo. The airport had only one asphalt runway, and the mountainside dropped on either side of it. If a pilot misjudged the landing, his plane would roll right off the cliff. Steven and Josh skirted the passengers jumbling with their carry-ons and cameras and, chased by the wind chill, hustled into the restaurant, DC-3 Gifts and Grill, in the airport conservatory.
Steven scanned the menu, a frown tugging his lips. “Never been one for buffalo meat. Give me a fatty piece of steak any day. But I guess I’ll have the Buffalo Burger everyone is talking about.”
“I think I’ll have the same, especially since Daphne isn’t here to remind me about my cholesterol. Then again, buffalo is supposed to be better for you.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why aren’t you spending the day with your wife? Why isn’t she here?”
Josh’s eyes flicked upwards from the menu. There was a second or two of suspicion reflected in them. “I can’t see why it’s any business of yours.”
“I guess it isn’t. I was just curious. You speak about her a lot. Newlyweds, I imagine.”
“So?”
“So I just wondered why you wouldn’t want to spend your day with your wife.”
“Oh, Daphne met a woman on the ship and invited her to spend the day together. Sisterhood sort of thing. The lady looked like she needed a break from her steamroller of a husband. Looks on the verge of tears all the time. Daphne knew she needed a friend. Of course, Daphne can make a friend out of anyone. She has that look about her, the friendly, trusting look. I can’t describe it that well. Here. I’ll show you.”
Josh fished his wallet out of his pocket, thumbed through the plastic-sheathed pictures, and drew out the one he wanted. Steven acknowledged it with a faint lift to his eyebrows.
“Oh, I saw her in Avalon. Out in the main street where I had a slight run-in with a golf cart. She came to ask if I was okay. You are certainly a lucky man to have such a pretty wife.”
The suspicion returned to Josh’s eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
“I believe it was a compliment about your wife.”
“Why should you want to compliment my wife?”
“Why are you getting defensive? I just said she was pretty.”
“Hey look, pal. I wasn’t born under the Stupid Rock. You just asked me why I wasn’t with my wife. I’ll ask YOU something more interesting. Why were you WITH my wife?”
“I told you I—”
“Don’t give me your prearranged bullshit. How could you remember her face after seeing her for just a moment? And what were you doing near her anyway, buddy?”
“I have a good memory for faces. It helps in this business. And I don’t need to defend myself.”
“The hell you don’t! My wife may be a flirt sometimes, but that DOESN’T mean anyone can treat themselves to her! Besides, what the hell would she see in a balding, excessively sweaty piece of driftwood like you?”
Steven’s knuckles cracked as he curled his fingers into a fist. “Well thanks for the insults, pal, but I think I’ll go choke on my burger in another booth.”
Josh shoved the other man back into his seat. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet. I have to lay out some ground rules first.”
He’s always been a hothead, Steven thought.
“I am not interested in you or your wife. I don’t need to stay here and stand trial with a jealous husband.”
Josh stopped him with another hard shove. “I’m not jealous! I have no reason to be jealous of a man like you! I’m protecting my wife like a husband should!”
“Hey buddy!” a tourist shouted, his eyes glued to his Instagram page. “Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to enjoy our lunch!”
Steven scooted out of the booth. “I think you should listen to that man and settle down before you do something stupid.”
“So now you think I’m stupid?”
“I hardly know you or your wife!”
“You keep Daphne out of this!”
“You’re the one who accused me of doing God-knows-what with her! I wouldn’t do a damn thing with someone like your wife!”
Josh lunged at Steven’s throat. There was a decidedly feminine screech that threatened to pop eardrums. Steven felt just the flimsiest scratch of fingernails against his neck. He saw an arm cross the angry man’s chest and pull him back. Then he recognized the man restraining Josh as Martin Hale, the husband of Charlegne’s biggest rival.
“Quit being a moron,” Martin advised.
“I’m going to kill him! He can’t say that about my wife! I’ll kill him!”
“Oh shut up.”
“Let me go! I’ll—!”
SMACK! The volcano of red curls could only mean one thing—Rosemary. She slapped the furious man hard across the face. It made a sound like a gunshot. The woman who screamed earlier began to yelp like a Chihuahua. Josh shut up and stopped struggling.
Steven thought it best to evacuate.
Across the restaurant, Travis Patrelli stopped tearing through his Buffalo Burger and stared, letting a nugget of half-chewed patty fall from his gaping mouth.
“So, Food Boy, I guess it’s just you and me.”
Li recoiled. Even his toes curled inside his shoes. Aaron Brent sneered under his fat caterpillar of a mustache. He started to purr.
“I’ll be nice to you, kid. I’ll have the halibut as is. I won’t send it back for anything. I promise.” Mr. Brent unzipped a smile that Li hated more than his scowl. “Well, kid? Did you get my order?”
I don’t trust you, Mr. Brent.
“Yes, sir. Coming right up.”
Li could still see the cold, zipper-like grin frozen on Mr. Brent’s face after he turned and walked away.
After delivering the order, Li ran face-first into Paul.
“Oh Christ, Johnson. Can’t you watch where you’re going, you stupid klutz? At least, you didn’t have food in your hands. Charlegne’s not here to save her new playmate.”
So Travis was right. “Sorry, Paul. I’ll try to be more careful.”
“You better, or you’ll be lucky to be a busboy when I’m through with you, Dropout.” Paul chuckled. “Heh, Dropout. I like that. I think that’s my new name for you.”
You don’t want to know what I call you, Paul.
“Halibut’s up!”
Li took the steaming dish from the chef and walked out of the kitchen before Paul could levy another insult. Aaron Brent continued to grin that evil, satisfied sneer. Li felt a chill race down the track of his spine.
“Thank you, young man,” Aaron purred.
Li stumbled. The fish surfed on a wave of sauce before splattering the champagne suit of the woman at the next table. Her formal arrangement of bronze curls caught the halibut in its net. She rose with a hoarse wail.
Li raced to her side. “I’m so sorry, madam! Please allow me to—!”
She
smacked him hard across his face, her fat diamond ring slicing open his cheek. Li began the retreat, staunching the blood with his fingers. The lady then started to shriek at him in a flood of furious French, none of which Li could translate. Paul sprinted to the table, already slipping into his most soothing French platitudes.
Li saw the look on Aaron Brent’s face. His beady eyes gleamed like wet onyx. It was pure, gloating satisfaction.
Paul seized the young waiter by his collar and hauled him away, hissing into Li’s ear the whole time.
“I have had it with you, Dropout. I hate you. Is that what you want to hear? I hate your guts. You’ve been one slip-up away from me strangling you this whole trip.”
He threw Li into the kitchen and screamed for Chef Will.
Paul held the position of judge and executioner. “The Countess said you purposely threw the food at her, because you have a vendetta against the Swiss.”
“That’s not true!”
“Don’t yell, Dropout!”
“Oh shut up, Paul,” Chef Will said. “Instead of lynching Johnson, why don’t you ask him what happened?”
“Are you saying that the Countess is lying?”
“Countess Ramseyer has rather fanatical views of the world. She likes to think that everyone has some sort of collective prejudice against the Swiss people, even though she’s Swiss by marriage, not birth. I say you give Johnson a chance to tell his side of the story.”
“You’re willing to let this screw-up defend himself?”
“I believe in fair trial before hanging, Paul.”
Paul muttered to himself before turning back to Li. “What happened, Dropout?”
“And for God’s sake, Paul, stop calling him Dropout.”
“Fine. What happened…” Grinding his teeth together, he squeezed out the name. “…Liam?”
Li didn’t respond.
“Out with it, Johnson!”
“He…He tripped me.”
“Who did?”
Li hesitated.
“Johnson…”
“A…A customer.”
“So you’re going to blame someone else—more importantly, a customer—for your mistake? I knew you would, you little piece of—”
“Shut up, Paul.” Chef Will placed a hand on Li’s shoulder. “Now go on and tell us everything.”
“I-I’m not really sure of everything. I just remember my ankle hitting something. It…It felt like a foot. Then it all happened so fast. I swear it was an accident! I didn’t do it on purpose! Honest!”
He gloated. Mr. Brent gloated at me. He was laughing in his head. This was his plan.
Paul settled a glare on Li that read as “Execution at Dawn.” “Countess Ramseyer also insists that you reimburse her for the suit, Johnson. Not dry cleaning. A whole new outfit. I believe it retails for about $2500 American.”
Li felt the world spin quickly, and his stomach lurched. “I can’t afford that! I can’t even afford a new pair of sneakers!”
Paul smirked. “Not my problem. Better whip out your checkbook, Johnson. Or you can start selling yourself on the streets.”
“Please, Paul! I’m begging you! I’ll be ruined if I have to pay for it!”
“Ruined, eh?”
Chef Will gave the maître d’ a hard shove. “Quit being a sadist, Paul. Not even you could afford that suit. The kid’s desperate. Why don’t you show some damn compassion?”
“The Countess insists that he—”
“Forget the damn Countess. Just have the bartenders at Temptations ply her with those fancy-ass liqueurs she loves so much. She won’t even remember the waiter’s name after that.”
“Nevertheless, this sort of negligence—”
“It was an accident!” Li yelled.
“Accident or not, Johnson, I can’t run a dining room if you keep screwing up. Call this your second strike. If you screw up one more time, you’re out. For good.”
Li appealed to the chef.
“Sorry, Johnson. I run the kitchen. Paul is your boss. If he decides this is the best course of action, well, I’m afraid I can’t say much. Just be lucky it’s not worse. Now if that’s settled, I have a dinner service to organize.”
Paul waited until Chef Will’s planet of a stomach slipped out of earshot. “I wouldn’t feel too safe if I was you, Dropout. You’re out of a job. I’ve already fired you. Once I prove that you slept with Charlegne, you’re dead.”
Li wasn’t listening. His eyes slid out of focus. Something Travis said earlier gave him an idea, an idea to save himself.
A cup of Darjeeling…
CHAPTER 10
Discovery
“Cutting it rather close, aren’t we?”
Rosemary accepted the hand of the coxswain as he helped her board the tender. “I guess we are. Our tour ran a little late. Some family with six kids insisted on taking individual shots of all the kids with the bus driver, the buffalo statue, and the waitress who served them. I’m just happy to go back to the ship.”
She settled herself in a seat. Martin sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. The tender zoomed toward the ship, kicking up huge feathers of ocean spray.
I lied, Rosemary thought. I’m dreading going back to the ship. It means going back to her. I can’t escape. I tried to…Martin said I was running away. I am trying to run, but I can’t get away from her.
A woman, whose lips seemed incapable of remaining together, began unleashing the thrashing octopus of her hair from its ponytail. “This was a simply wonderful day trip! What a unique island! The Casino had the most colorful and lively murals! Genuine Art Deco, you know!”
These people make me sick. They’re just so damn happy.
“And it’s a working theater and ballroom! I would love to be there during a big party! With the brass bands and the jazz singers. I could wear that new dress I bought today. Oh, just wait until you see it on me, Josh sweetie. It’s the most sumptuous shade of blue, isn’t it, Priscilla?”
I hate it! It’s impossible to get away! You can see it on all these faces. We can’t escape. We will always be drawn back to the ship. Her ship.
“That shade of blue will just make your eyes pop, Daphne. Mr. Cole, you will scarcely recognize your bride when I finish dressing her.”
“I look forward to it, Ms. Reilly.”
Ugh…why are we are so damn polite? I know these people. They can’t stand each other. For instance, over there is Steven Danforth and Priscilla Reilly. They’re mortal enemies. And yet, they sit here and play nice to keep up appearances. And it’s all for her. They’re both slaves to that heartless slut. We’re all chained to her in some way.
“Everything all right, Rosie dear?”
“Yes, Marty. Just perfect.”
Rosemary glanced at the improbable floating palace inching towards them.
Charlegne’s kingdom. It will swallow us alive.
“Oh dear! The spray from the boat got my shopping bags wet! These things wouldn’t happen if the boat moved just a teensy bit slower. Wouldn’t you say so, girls?”
“Time is everything, Daphne. They can’t afford to lag in their schedule.”
“Yes,” Rosemary said aloud, drawing attention from the passengers around her. “Time is everything. How does that scripture go? ‘To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born and a time to die…’”
Not even Daphne responded.
“Rosie? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Oh yes, Marty. Everything will be perfect. Much better than before.”
The seaborne palace swallowed them at last.
“¡Mi amigo!”
Carlos, one of the stewards, swarmed to Li’s side, almost upturning the tea tray Li balanced in his hands. Carlos’s thin mustache wriggled as he poured out streams of Spanish that the boy’s schoolyard version couldn’t possibly grasp.
“¿Es verdad? True, yes? ¿Sabía tu follar Señorita Jackson? Bed? You take to bed? ¿Está tod
o bien en la cama?”
“NO!”
“Oh? No good?”
“I did not sleep with her!”
“Ohhhhh…¿Es un secreto? Secret, yes? Mi amigo, tu secreto está a salvo conmigo. Secret safe here.”
Li stressed each syllable. “I…did…not…have…sex…with…her!”
“Ahhhh yes, yes…Ahora comprendo. I get you. Hay muchas mujeres para follar. ¡Muy bien! Have fun, yes?” Carlos strolled away with laughter exploding out of his throat.
“You should be grateful that you didn’t understand what he said, Li.” David Kane fell into step beside his bunkmate. “Oh Jesus, Li! What happened to your face? Fist-fight in the dining room?”
“Is it that bad?”
“What the hell happened?”
“I…I had a run-in serving lunch today.”
“That’s a windfall of information. Out with it, Liam.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He stepped up the pace.
David didn’t let him escape. “Aw come on…we’re bunkmates. I think I have a right to know what happened when the person sharing my quarters has a shiner and a gash on his cheekbone. You’re not on the Mob’s hit list, are you?”
“I almost wish I was.”
“Now stop being morbid and tell me what the hell happened before I dump that tea down your pants.”
Li had to stop to tell the story. He didn’t think he could pay attention where he was going with his mind otherwise engaged.
“And then after Paul said he had already fired me, I had to go back to the dining room and finish service. Turns out Mr. Brent charmed the Countess into sitting with him and said God-knows-what to her IN PERFECT FRENCH! Last night, he couldn’t even pronounce chateaubriand au poivre! Now he can suddenly rattle off the most eloquent French I have ever heard! It would make Paul jealous!”
“The guy’s a bastard. There’s no escaping that.”
“Later, I got my shoelace caught in the wheel of the flatware cart and had to sit down to deal with it. The Countess and Mr. Brent used that opportunity to give me two hard kicks in the rear as they were leaving the dining room!”
“I thought you were walking a little funny.”
“The worst part was the laughing. At least three tables—and I’m pretty sure Paul—started to chuckle when they did it. Then I had to spend two hours washing all the dishes by myself. I hate this place.”
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