James Ross - A Character-Based Collection (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  “What’s all that for?”

  Her eyes never left the screen. Shari worked her thumbs while the cigarette burned between her lips. She added the attachments then hit the SEND button. “My lawyer wanted evidence in case something happens.”

  “For God’s sake,” Tyler Cy said as the driver opened the door for the pair of tourists to enter.

  The drive south from the airport was a real estate developer’s dream. Tyler Cy took it all in. From the Cancun airport, Highway 307 paralleled the Gulf and travelled southward on the Yucatan peninsula through Playa del Carmen to points well past Tulum. That drive could take over two hours, but today’s trip would be much less than that.

  One all-inclusive resort dwarfed the next. Tourism thrived. Sun bathing, jet skiing, snorkeling, and scuba diving on the Belize Barrier Reef, as well as guided jungle tours inland attracted hordes of vacationers. Yacht charters were available. So, too, were archeology expeditions. The Mexican authorities had their act together. Planned comprehensive thought called for orderly, upscale development, and Tyler Cy was like a kid waking up on Christmas morning.

  As the limo pulled into the valet area at the Mayakoba Macaw, attendants scurried around the vehicle while Tyler Cy informed Shari. “We’ve got dinner plans at 8:30.”

  “I’m going to the pool.”

  “That’s fine. Just be ready to go out. We need to talk.”

  “I was going dancing.”

  “I thought your ankle was hurting.”

  Shari looked at her husband dumbfounded. “My ankle doesn’t hurt.”

  “You needed a wheelchair.”

  “How stupid are you, Tyler Cy? The wheelchair trick is just like the handicap tag that I hang from the mirror.” She paused. “I’m special. I deserve to be spoiled.”

  The valet attendant opened the rear door. Shari’s eyes examined his bronze tan as a flawless smile spread across his face. She forced her right leg to the curb and in the process her skirt hiked up her thigh. His smile widened. He nodded approval. She was coy, but the smirk told the story. She was proud of the service her esthetician had provided. The bikini area was groomed perfectly. Someone had to witness the results of the Brazilian wax she had paid over a hundred bucks for.

  “Dinner is at 8:30.”

  She glanced at her husband. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Tyler Cy wasted no expense on their surrey to the upscale resort. Their tri-level private townhome oozed elegance. The third floor terrace offered a breathtaking view of the Gulf as well as the white sand beach and eighteen-hole championship golf course. Visible to the distant horizon were shades of aqua dotted with pleasure boats and private yachts.

  He shook his scotch, ice clattering against the edges of the glass. The warm breeze at dusk soothed his mood. But even after twenty-four years of marriage it was difficult for him to remain patient. He loathed being late. A glance at his wristwatch indicated that dinner reservations were a mere five minutes away.

  After a final glimpse at heaven he turned and entered the upper living room. Hardwood floors gleaned. A high definition plasma TV spouted local music. Modern furniture, trendy light fixtures, Mayan art relics, and exotic floral arrangements seemed appropriate for the staggering price. A double clap of the hands gently closed the curtains until a similar action stopped the movement.

  He continued down the spiral staircase to the mid-level where his bedroom and private bathroom was located. That was the pre-arranged rule of the rendezvous. Tyler Cy footed the entire bill and got the guest room accommodations. As a consolation prize he got a pull-out sofa bed in the living quarters as if he would find the occasion to put it to good use. An adjoining butler pantry no doubt saw more use from a partying group on an active weekend than it would see on this trip. He ducked into the bathroom to splash on Acqua Di Gio. Seeing the bottle caused him to chuckle. It matched the color of the water a mere twenty yards away; it was her favorite.

  The queen’s treatment was reserved for Shari one level below. As he continued negotiating the turns on the staircase he gently asked, “Ready?”

  No response followed.

  Tyler Cy stopped and admired the surroundings. The ambience caused him to reflect on his success yet shed sadness at the changes that were about to happen in his life. On the sun deck were two lounge chairs that bordered a heated plunge pool. At a different time in their life they would laugh until way after midnight and frolic in the water. Bottles of liquor were strategically placed on the bar to be sensed by a motion detector. Anything disturbed padded the fee. They would not be moved on this night—at least not by him.

  All of the luxuries of the world were there—waves breaking on the shore, satellite TV, a bowl of fresh fruit, bottled water, WiFi, a state of the art sound system with CD player, DVD system and docking station for iPod users, Internet service, and a safe with private combination. The amenities of a top tier hotel on the Vegas Strip or the Chinese gambling mecca of Macau or Dubai or Monte Carlo were at the Mayakoba Macaw. It was elegant. If Shari wanted to be pampered and spoiled, then Tyler Cy picked the right spot.

  “Shari?” No answer. “Shari, are you okay?”

  The music behind the bedroom doors blared. Then the sound was muffled.

  “Shari?”

  An annoying response followed. “What do you want now?”

  “It’s 8:30. We’ve got to be at the restaurant.”

  “I’m still in the tub.”

  Tyler Cy moaned to himself. “Should I call and cancel?”

  “No. You go ahead. Order for me. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Thirty minutes to Shari could be three to four hours. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not so sure you’ll get there by then.”

  “Are you saying I’m irresponsible?”

  “No, it’s just that it’s been a long day. Maybe we ought to make it another night.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Tyler Cy knew that it was fruitless to continue the banter. “What would you like for me to order for you?”

  “What restaurant were we going to?”

  “Sumo Hibachi.”

  “That’s my favorite.” Her past experience at the resort had provided excellent Japanese cuisine at that eatery.

  “Which is why I booked it,” Tyler Cy replied. “I thought it would be a great place to sit and talk.”

  “So you would rather talk than eat?” After toweling off Shari, began her makeup. “A lecture?”

  Frustration followed, then another deep breath. Why was it always such a production? “Let’s not talk. Let’s just get something to eat.”

  “I can’t imagine anything more boring than sitting across the table and looking at you for an hour.”

  “Maybe we can sit side by side at the bar.”

  “How tacky!”

  “Then I suppose the seating arrangements will be a surprise. Our reservations are now and I’m going to honor them. We’ll have to see where they seat us.”

  “Go ahead and order for me. I’m hungry. You haven’t fed me all day except for that lousy muffin that you bought at the airport.”

  “Very well.” Tyler Cy turned and went out the door. The short walk across the resort property was an adventure in fantasy land. The pool with concrete islands, caves, tunnels, and waterfalls was well known as was the area with clay courts for world-class tennis matches. Cabanas with thatched roofs dotted the pool deck. An outdoor tiki bar attracted those that wanted to enjoy the soothing breeze off the Gulf. Live island music was heard amid raucous laughter. Honeymooners enjoyed a romantic trip through a manicured jungle setting while boats powered by foot pedals allowed couples to enjoy a moonlit excursion.

  Tyler Cy opened the door and stepped into Sumo Hibachi. A local greeted him with a handshake. “Donnelly, party of two.”

  A glance at his watch told the story. With a Mexican accent the response was curt. “You’re late.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, my wife fell asleep. I guess the sun wore her out.” He was used to covering for Shari.

  “We stop taking orders at nine.”

  Tyler Cy found that a little odd. He was under the impression that a resort property would take the money when they could get it. But his thought process backtracked. He was in Mexico. They did things their own way. “That’s fine. I’ll order for her.”

  “The doors close at ten.”

  Tyler Cy nodded and was promptly seated at the rectangular bar that surrounded a Hibachi grille. “No tables?”

  “Not after 8:30.”

  An understanding nod followed. Tyler Cy remembered that he was told that when he made the original reservation. “This will do.”

  Menus were placed in front of him. “Drink?”

  “Walker Red and water.”

  “We’ll need your order when I return.” The chef smiled as he chopped up onions and peppers and scraped them across the hot plate.

  Confusion followed. Would it be scallops, crab, lobster, swordfish, red snapper, or tuna? Or shrimp, chicken, or calamari? Tyler Cy played it safe. He ordered the filet mignon with snow crab. It was late. One order would do. They could split it. “Cook it medium well.” He hated to cook all of the juices out of the meat. His preference was charred rare to let the meat melt in his mouth. But Shari liked it cooked (meaning overcooked) so she wouldn’t get a queasy stomach.

  The first drink went down quickly with a second ordered. The meal was prepared. It was 9:20. No Shari. The food was served. Fragrances went straight to his nose as the food simmered on his plate. It looked delicious. But Tyler Cy picked awaiting the arrival of his wife as the chef tore down the grille and turned off the burners.

  His half was gone by the time Shari walked through the door. Before apologizing for being late she demanded a wine list and quickly blurted, “Pinot Noir, Au Bon Climat, 2011.” She placed the cloth napkin on her lap. “It has to be Santa Barbara. Wendy turned me onto it.”

  “Sonoma Valley and Willamette Valley aren’t good enough for your palate?”

  Shari reflexively reached into her purse and groped for a cigarette. After placing it between her lips she waited for Tyler Cy to produce the flame. The gentleman complied. A long drag wasn’t far behind. Smoke billowed skyward. “I’ve tried them all. That’s my preference. I’m glad it was on their list.”

  “We have to be out at ten.”

  “Are you hurrying me along?”

  “You’ve got twenty minutes. A smoke takes seven.”

  Shari took another drag. For the first time on the trip it seemed as if she actually listened. Her head tilted back. Smoke was exhaled slowly. She picked up her fork, stabbed a slice of beef and put it in her mouth. “This is cold.”

  “It wasn’t thirty minutes ago.”

  Shari moved some food around on the plate. “This looks like a half order.”

  “It’s late; I thought we could split it.”

  “Why are you so cheap?” Tyler Cy bit his lower lip. “I want it heated up.”

  Tyler Cy motioned to the kitchen. Through the serving window the chefs could be seen enjoying Dos Equis longnecks. “We’re in Mexico. They quit when it’s time to quit.”

  “Flash a twenty at them. That will get some results.”

  “Afraid not. They want to leave. At least half of my anniversary dinner was enjoyed.”

  “So that is what all of this is about.” She acted like the snow crab was to her satisfaction. “You wanted a date for your anniversary.” She put her fork down, fetched the half cigarette out of the ash tray and placed it in her mouth. “You flew me all the way down here for this?”

  “No, not really. The dates just turned out that way. Actually I wanted to have a talk.” Tyler Cy provided a light. “I don’t want this.”

  “Want what?” Shari was indignant.

  “A divorce.”

  “For gawd sake, Tyler Cy! Quit your whining. We’re history. I don’t love you anymore.”

  “Relationships take on different stages.”

  “And the stage I’m in is I want out! I can’t get what I crave from you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know what it is. We’ve been through this before.”

  “I can take some pills.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it! You’re fat.”

  “A little pudgy maybe.”

  “Fat. You’re out of shape.”

  “The bills are paid as a result of that. We’ve accumulated a nice nest egg.”

  “And you’re bald.”

  “We can fix that. I can get a weave or a rug.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Well I don’t want a divorce. You’re my wife and the mother of our children.”

  Shari pondered what to say next. “Do you really want me to hurt your feelings?”

  “I’m a big boy. I can take the heat.”

  “You’re too small.”

  “You just told me that I was fat.”

  “No, you idiot!” She pointed to his crotch. “Down there! It’s not big enough or hard enough. I need it four to five times a day!”

  A guffaw. Tyler Cy gasped. “Four to five times a day?! Since when?”

  “It’s been like that for a long time.”

  “You never told me anything about that.”

  “You’ve been too busy working to know anything about it. You’re clueless around a woman’s body. There are more skillful lovers out there.”

  “Have you enjoyed them?”

  Shari took a sip of wine. She actually stopped to think before responding. This was a moment that Leslie had warned her about. She didn’t want to cause any suspicion or grounds for him to claim in his divorce response. “Well,” Shari stammered, “no.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “Some of my girlfriends told me.” The response was quick and was followed by a nervous puff on the cigarette followed by a healthy gulp of Pinot. “Plus I read about some of it on the Internet.”

  “Like the Internet is going to solve your problems.”

  “I hope not! But a tasty hunk of a Latin lover might do me wonders!”

  Whoops!

  “So that was why you were so anxious to hop on this trip? You were hoping to grab a cabana boy?”

  Shari sensed she had hit a vein. She backpedaled. Her persuasive intuition kicked in. She softly continued. “Look, Tyler Cy. I haven’t had an orgasm from you in well over a decade. It’s not there for me anymore. I want to go out and explore. I’m in my sexual prime. I want out.”

  Tyler Cy had nothing to say. His pragmatic sense reminded him not to talk. Not only were his feelings hurt, but he had been hit figuratively below the belt. He turned to the waiter and scribbled his name in the air signaling for the check. As they continued out the door, Tyler Cy reiterated the main point of the evening. “I still don’t want a divorce.” There was a pause as he reached out and grabbed Shari’s hand. “Nobody but the lawyers will win if we both lawyer up.”

  “There you go again, always thinking about money. That’s more important than what I want.”

  “It wasn’t meant that way.” He took a step toward their home away from home. Shari stood pat. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No. You have a nice evening. I’m going to the disco.” She turned and walked off. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tyler Cy was up before dawn the next morning. Just because his ego was a little bruised from the night before didn’t mean that he was going to scrap things he wanted to do on the trip. Wearing Bermuda shorts, mid-calf dark socks, sneakers, and a t-shirt, he set out to enjoy the trade winds and get some exercise in the process.

  A few puffy cumulus clouds dotted the horizon and framed the rising sun that resembled a hot charcoal briquette in the hibachi grill the night before. The aqua colored waves broke on the shore; the rhythmic pattern soothing. Light caramel colored sand was soft and made walking cumbersome and good t
raction difficult to attain. It was somewhere near 6 a.m. and the forecast was for the type of day the Mayan Riviera was famous for.

  The morning offered Tyler Cy the serenity to plan his next course of action. Obviously his wife was serious about getting a divorce. He wanted to prevent that. It didn’t appear that anything would cause her to change her mind. He was already sick of writing checks to lawyers. This was going to be an expensive transaction if it went the full term. Right now the best thing he could do was to draw it out as long as he could in the courts and hope for some unforeseen miracle to occur in the future. Those were odds that weren’t too promising. He loathed not having control of the situation.

  It took a couple of hours. Tyler Cy walked an hour out from the townhouse and an hour back. As he approached the lower level he noticed his wife sleeping on a lounge chair on the deck surrounding the plunge pool. She wore a skimpy bikini. Women her age would love to have her figure—one that easily passed for a lady in her twenties. Tyler Cy admired her beauty.

  That was about to change. Shari could be in a foul mood when suddenly awakened. He raised his leg and planted his foot on the end of the lounge chair. Then he nudged it gently three times. Shari didn’t move. Tyler Cy applied more force. Shari’s body slid.

  “Dammit, Tyler Cy! What do you want?”

  “Just a reminder that we leave on the ferry to Cozumel at ten.”

  “I wanted to work on my tan for an hour.”

  “The sun isn’t too hot now.”

  “No, but I’d like to sleep out here until nine.”

  “That won’t give you much time to get ready. The shuttle bus leaves the resort at 9:15.”

  “Then wake me in forty-five minutes. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I don’t dare ask why.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. I was a good girl.”

  Tyler Cy grabbed a mango out of the fruit bowl. “I’ll be back.” He ascended the spiral staircase to his upstairs quarters.

  Surprisingly Shari was ready to go on time. She wore a chic sundress complete with matching sandals and Prada sunglasses. She had pulled her dark brown hair into a ponytail that hung out the back of a golf visor. Rings adorned nearly every finger and a cigarette hung out of her mouth.