by James Ross
As the pair stood in the resort lobby Shari found the opportunity hard to resist. She looked at her watch. “So where is it, Tyler Cy?”
“What?”
“The shuttle bus. It’s 9:15. Where is it?”
“Maybe your watch is a little fast. I’m sure it will be here.”
“Knowing you, you’ve got the days mixed up.”
Tyler Cy pulled out the itinerary and looked carefully. “No, this is the right date, time, and place.”
“I seen and heard that before.” She nervously tapped her foot, ground her cigarette in a nearby receptacle, and frantically searched her purse for another smoke. “Now you know why I run late. I don’t wait on anybody! They can wait on me!”
As promised the shuttle arrived within seconds. “Does that make you happy?”
“I have to ride on that piece of crap?” The shuttle was a converted school bus. “I feel like a piece of cattle.” A puff went in Tyler Cy’s face. “Why didn’t you get a taxi or limo or something?”
“We’re not going much more than a mile. The pier isn’t far away.” Tyler Cy waved his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. “We could have walked.”
“As cheap as you are I’m surprised you didn’t insist on that.”
The pair sauntered over to the line that had been forming. When Shari was about to step onto the bus the driver started waving his arms frantically. Obviously his English was broken. “No smoke! No smoke!” He flew out of his chair, jumped onto the stairs, and blocked her entrance.
“Relax, Chico.” She took a final drag then sent the butt flying through the air with a flick of her middle finger. “Feel better?”
The ferry to Cozumel was a tri-level catamaran. A couple of hundred passengers could easily make the trip and not exceed the maximum load. Depending on the dollar/peso exchange rate the trip typically cost between $25-30. The ferries left every hour on the hour and the smooth trip took 45 minutes. Tyler Cy tried to make his wife as comfortable as possible.
“You mean I can’t have a cigarette for forty-five minutes?” Shari’s seething look could have fried an egg. “Next time book a flight and we’ll fly.”
Obviously he had a difficult task ahead of him.
Supposedly, longevity in a marriage teaches an individual patience. While the barbs and bitches continued, Tyler Cy watched the seagulls buzz-bomb anything that resembled food. He was entertained by their antics and let the gripes of his wife go in one ear and out the other. He could at least find a little bit of enjoyment in the day while she continually bitched about anything and everything. He wondered if anything would make her happy.
Shari watched as the coast of the Yucatan faded in the distance. “This reminds me of the trip we took with Richie and Becca down here seven or eight years ago.”
“We had a lifetime of fun with them.”
“Now I can’t get him to stop bothering me.”
“Things change.”
“I’d wish he’d realize that. Ever since he found out I filed he’s been pestering me.”
“I’ve always thought that he was in love with you.”
“I think he thought that when you and I went kaput he’d snatch me off my feet and marry me.”
“We all understood our relationship. We’d go out as a foursome, the two of you could dance, but when the feelings got serious that was where the line was drawn.”
“But now that you and I are calling it quits those rules don’t exist anymore. I think that he wants me all to himself.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Following me. Stalking me. You’ve been around for all the phones calls.”
“Those are from him?”
“Sure. He hangs up if you answer.”
“Tell him to call your cell.”
“Tyler Cy! You’re missin’ the point. I don’t want him calling me period. The caller ID shows up on my cell and I don’t answer that either.” Shari turned to look directly at Tyler Cy. “Why are all of you men assholes?”
“I think that is how you perceive us.”
“He’s being more of one than you. I don’t know how to get him to stop. Can you do something? Can you tell him? I need someone to tell him that I’m not going to end up with him.”
“What do you want me to say?” Tyler Cy paused. “Don’t date my ex-wife?”
“Tyler Cy! You just don’t get it, do you?”
“If you’re available, what can I say to him?”
“He’s a married man! I don’t want to be a home wrecker. Becca wouldn’t appreciate that.”
“We’re getting into uncharted territory. I don’t really know what is acceptable or not. I never imagined I’d be in this situation.”
The ferry closed in on the Cozumel shore. Once docked it didn’t take long for Shari to discover what she wanted to do. “Tyler Cy! Look.”
Holding a sign was an island boy, probably a barker for his old man, enticing vacationers to go on an excursion. The hook? A glass bottom boat. Along with some snorkeling.
“Let’s go! I’ve never been on a glass bottom boat. We were planning on going snorkeling too.” Shari tugged at Tyler Cy’s arm. Her excitement pushed her in the direction of the lad. “Besides he’s so cute!”
After the fee was paid, the couple was led to the launch site. Eight others had been buffaloed. They were herded onto a twenty-foot long aluminum Jon boat with bench seats, two paddles, and life jackets for eleven. Once seated, the outboard motor roared to life.
“Hey, where’s the glass bottom boat?” Shari wanted to know.
“Maybe he’s taking us to it,” Tyler Cy said.
The Mexican captain then motioned to a spot on the hull between two of the benches. The flat bottom boat had been altered. A welder’s torch had cut out a four foot square hole. Over that a sheet of Plexiglas had been laid in place.
“Is this thing safe?” one of the passengers asked.
The money had been collected. They were a hundred yards off shore. The captain’s nod followed an infectious smile with three missing teeth.
Tyler Cy put a hand to his brow as the boat made a ninety-degree right turn to parallel the shoreline. The water was calm and a wonderful turquoise color. It couldn’t have been more than four or five feet deep. “I guess he knows what he’s doing. He’s not going out very far.”
Abruptly, the motor stopped. The captain wobbled a few feet, reached down, and threw an anchor overboard. He uttered one word in broken English. “Snorkel.”
“I don’t have my suit on!” Shari yelled.
The captain wobbled back to a trunk situated by the motor. He fetched a key, unlocked the trunk, and grabbed a ten foot square blanket. With sea legs he made it to the front of the boat and motioned for Tyler Cy to grab one end of the blanket. The captain held his end up. “Curtain.” A thumbs-up sign from the captain caused Tyler Cy to smile. And the Mexican grin caused him to laugh. Within minutes Shari and Tyler Cy were in the water. The captain fetched his sombrero and napped.
It was early afternoon when the vessel returned to the pier. Shari wasted no time. “Give me some money for shopping.”
“You don’t want anything to eat?”
“Not here. Every time I eat out my stomach acts up. It’s better to just shop.”
“Then I’ll tag along so you don’t get ripped off.”
“You don’t trust me to find a bargain.”
“Oh, I know that you’ll find plenty of things to buy. I’m just not so sure on the authenticity of it.”
“There you go using those big words again. You must have to do that to make yourself feel important.”
And shop she did. Shari went into every jewelry store, clothing store, and handicraft store in the San Miguel mega mall.
“I didn’t know this,” Tyler Cy said as he perused a trivia book while he waited at one stop. “Cozumel is the home of Ixchel.”
“Who cares about that?”
“She’s the Mayan goddess of love and fertility.”
“When the religious temples were dedicated to her she sent her favorite bird as a sign of gratitude.”
“What’s that?”
“The swallow. That’s how this island was named. Cozumel is Mayan for the land of the swallows.”
“I always thought this place was known for its margaritas. At least that’s what it said on Pepe’s Back Alley a couple of blocks away.” By this time Shari’s bags numbered four. She had a hammock, jewelry, poncho, handicrafts, and some leather goods. Tyler Cy was a good sport. He always peeled off the money when she asked for it. “Since all of this is duty-free, we need to get some tequila to take home.”
“Make it quick. We’ve got to get back to the ferry.”
Shari was in and out of the liquor store quickly—at least for Shari. The pair headed down the street. They were exiting the main shopping mall, just blocks from the pier, when a Mexican teenage girl threw herself at Shari’s feet insisting that she get her hair done in proper Cozumel fashion.
The young hands stroked her hair. Compliments about beauty spilled from the teenager’s mouth. She actually started pulling Shari into the salon.
“Tyler Cy,” Shari begged, “let me get my hair done.”
“No, no, no. We don’t have time,” Tyler Cy pleaded. “We can’t risk not getting on the last ferry.”
“Pleeeeease.” It was obvious that Shari was going to get her way.
“If I can’t get this return ticket activated for the last boat out of here I’m coming back to get you.” Shari disappeared into the salon. “Tell them to make it quick!”
Tyler Cy had an hour to kill. Luckily the last ferry was not filled to capacity. However he had to be there on time or it would leave the dock without him. The last thing Tyler Cy wanted was to spend a night locally, or, heaven forbid, charter a flight back to Cancun. The trip to Cozumel had already set him back $1,500.
He enjoyed a margarita that went well with chips and salsa but he kept a close eye on the clock. With fifteen minutes remaining he walked into the salon. It was obvious that Shari was their last tourist for the day. The ladies were cleaning up their work stations but Shari was not to be found. Communication was rough but the gals indicated that the last client was in the back room getting special treatment.
Tyler Cy grabbed a note pad and wrote HURRY on a slip of paper. He handed it to a gal and sent her scampering to the back room. A few minutes later Shari appeared.
“What in the Lord’s name have you done with your hair?” Tyler Cy gasped.
Shari stood before him with a new auburn tint and corn rows with beads on the end of the strands as well as a matching headband across her forehead. “Don’t you love it? Everybody will want this when we get home.” Tyler Cy stammered as he searched for words. “Give them two fifty for a job well done.”
There was no time to argue. Tyler Cy paid. “Come on. The ferry leaves in two minutes and we can’t be late.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
There’s something to be said about having a unique appearance that is memorable. Shari’s new look was met with mixed reviews at Olde Blueblood CC when she showed up to play golf. The males loved the originality and suggestive free-spirited look, while the females whispered behind her back. The conservative and traditional viewpoint was en vogue for the wives. Shari’s new doo was not popular at Monday’s bridge club.
The next day offered a different sort of surprise. Shari showed up early for the Tuesday morning women’s league. Olde Blueblood CC had an arrangement for golf. The carts were kept in the lower level basement of a section of the clubhouse. The cart attendants could easily pull the battery-operated vehicles out of nightly storage and park them outside the pro shop.
The pro shop itself was housed in a separate building. It had easy access to the massive putting green as well as the first and tenth tees. Toward the ninth green, another free-standing building with a screened-in area served as a halfway house with restrooms, snacks, and a limited menu for golfers that wanted a sandwich at the turn. Farther down the ninth fairway was the Olympic-sized swimming pool and tennis courts.
Shari came in as usual to play golf with the ladies. Her normal routine would take her from one rack of blouses to a carousel of shorts. It was important for her to stay up to date with the most fashionable and trendy golf attire. If the item carried a recognizable brand, she would snatch it up and put it on display for all to see as quickly as possible.
She found a chic golf shirt with matching sleeveless sweater in her size and quickly took it off the rack and up to the counter. An assistant pro was working the register that morning. He went to ring up the sale but had difficulties with the computer. He promptly excused himself and walked into the adjoining office which was where head pro Jeffery Free was working on paperwork.
Jeffery Free was a story all to himself. His parents played a cruel joke on him at birth. Of all the first names they could have given their son, they chose the one that would cause the most ridicule. All through elementary school the kids teased him by calling him Jeffery Free over and over and over again. Jeffery Free. Jeffery Free. Jeffery Free. He despised his parents for doing that to him.
But Jeffery Free migrated to the golf course at an early age. He honed his skills and as a freshman in high school he shot even par in a match by scoring 18 consecutive pars. His round, recorded in a sanctioned match, included no bogies. The guys on the team recognized that by giving him the nickname of Bogey since his round was bogey-free. And that nickname stuck all through high school and college.
After trying the mini-tour in Florida and missing tournament cuts, reality set in. He wasn’t going to make the grade as a touring pro so Bogey-Free made the decision to go to golf school and become a licensed club professional. It was Plan B of the dream and it gave him the opportunity to remain involved with the sport.
Jeffery Free bounced around several of the courses in the St. Louis area. He was great with the customers—polite and well-spoken. He earned the reputation of being punctual and conscientious as well as running a profitable operation. In local circles he was given yet another nickname: Nothins. And with Jeffery, nothin’s free.
A handshake here and a recommendation there and before you know it Jeffery Free’s name came up when Olde Blueblood CC was looking for a new head golf professional. A strong referral helped land the job, and Nothins Free made the club membership quite happy.
So Nothins answers to a lot of names. He came through the door and looked the part: early 30s, six foot three, lean and lanky. Add pressed golf slacks and a stylish golf shirt, and the Tuesday morning women would obey every word out of his mouth.
Being forewarned of the situation helped his cause. He wouldn’t get caught off-guard. And he certainly wasn’t going to have his next conversation out in front of others. “Hi, Mrs. Daniels-Donnelly. Steve told me that you were having some difficulty making your purchase.”
“I’d like to charge this to our account if I can,” Shari said while she held up the blouse and sweater.
“I bet that would look great on you,” Nothins continued. “Why don’t you step back into the office so that we can figure out the problem?”
Shari followed him for a few steps. “Nothing’s wrong is it?”
“No,” Nothins said with a grin, “It should be nothin’s free.”
“Your reputation wouldn’t allow that.”
“Actually I wanted to bring you back here to escape wandering ears. We do have a problem.”
“What could that be? Did Tyler Cy not pay the bill?”
“Oh no, that’s not it all. Mr. Donnelly is one of our best paying members or should I say was one of our best playing members.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Donnelly resigned from the club, effective immediately.”
Shari was stunned. “We just returned from vacation. He didn’t say a thing about that.”
“What’s been done
has been done. The general manager and membership committee asked me to give you the news if you were to show up to play golf.”
“I was here yesterday playing bridge and having lunch.”
“Evidently the resignation had not been finalized.”
Shari was still in disbelief. “So what does all of this mean? Can I play golf with the girls this morning?”
Nothins shook his head from side to side. “I’m afraid not.”
“That’s absolute total BS!” Shari screamed. “I’m here and I want to play my home course of which I am a member!”
“You were a member Mrs. Daniels-Donnelly. For reasons that I’m not privy to, you are no longer members.” Nothins paused to let the certainty of that set in. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the grounds.”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
“I can understand your dilemma. However I want to caution you that I have been instructed to call the police and have you arrested for trespassing if you choose to stay.”
“What the hell is going on around here? I come out to play bridge and have lunch, go home and come back the next day to buy an outfit and play golf and now you tell me I’m going to be arrested! I’ve never been in trouble with the law one single day in my life!” Shari clutched her outfit to her breast. “I seen it all now.”
“I’m sorry that it has turned out this way.”
“So am I!”
“Mrs. Daniels-Donnelly I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I hope that you see the reasoning behind this.”
“And if I don’t?”
“The police will be called and in all likelihood you’ll be handcuffed, arrested, and taken to jail.”
“If that isn’t a fine farewell!” Within ten minutes Shari was in her car and headed for Leslie Potter’s office in Clayton.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Someone was terribly disgruntled in the lobby of Canton, Mayfield, Buchanon, Potter and Payne. There was an unwelcome intruder. Whoever it was needed immediate attention. When the intercom blasted in Leslie’s office she suspected that Shari’s trip to Mexico didn’t go as expected.