by Storm, Buck
Hollister stared. Blood throbbed in his temples. Crystal reached over the table, put her hand on his, and grinned her pointy-toothed shark grin.
Years with this woman but the thought came, a tidal wave over long-frozen ground. Blame it on the Yucatan night, or the bad music that sounded good, but yeah, he remembered … she was beautiful.
“This is crazy,” he said.
“Shut up, moron.”
For once in his life, he did.
Crystal gulped and swallowed air. “Let’s have a baby,” she burped.
A dam broke in Hollister. The Twilight Zone? Yeah, but who cared? He remembered love. “Yeah. Okay, why not? Let’s have a baby.”
Sombrero Guy switched the drum machine rhythm and started a chipper, mariachi rendition of “Stayin’ Alive.” Crystal’s eyes lit.
Hollister shook his head. “The answer’s no, so don’t even start. This guy’s killing me. Did you tell him to play that? Do I look like John Travolta?”
“Ask me.”
“Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Ask me.”
“What did I just say?”
“Ask me.”
“Geez … Geez, all right! You wanna dance? Like all the other stupid tourists? You happy now?”
Crystal reached over and grabbed a tamale. She stripped its husk, ate half of it in one bite, and washed it down with a gulp of Hollister’s Modelo beer. “Yeah, baby. I’m happy. Let’s boogie.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Riding Stars
A couple of dogs on the beach barked and yipped, and that started the jungle howling. The sound sent a tingle of fear through Paradise’s legs.
“Howler monkeys,” Lan explained. “They sound scarier than they are. Actually cute little guys.”
Howling monkeys, birds screeching and singing, the constant, never-ending whine of locusts—the jungle rang with life though the sun had long since retreated.
Fifty yards from shore and safe on the Lazarus. Thank you!
“You’re welcome,” Jesus called from the cockpit.
Paradise rolled her eyes.
Lan had invited Leena for dinner, but she’d needed to stay with the children at the mission and politely declined. Sofia, however, occupied a chair padded with a stack of sailing magazines, a Chapman Piloting manual, and a 1994 Key West phone book for added height. She occupied the head of the table with queenly command. Her dark, serious eyes reflected the deck lights above as she surveyed her subjects with graceful benevolence.
Easy had whipped up a simple meal on the grill. Chicken and fresh vegetables provided by Chuey’s sister.
“So how long do we wait?” Lan said. “Curiosity’s killing me. Do you really think something is in that grave?”
“I wish I knew,” said Doc. “But two coins missing from the Judas mural, the same leather sack pointing down, Father Salazar in the fresco below in a graveyard with the two escudos coins. May be wishful thinking, but I think it adds up. Salazar would have been long dead when the brothers arrived. The grave would’ve been accessible.”
“Or, like the locals say, he’s still alive. Sneaking around the village leaving treats for kids,” Lan said.
“Don’ talk like dat, boss,” Easy said.
“Relax, amigo. I won’t let the boogie man get you.”
“That’s another thing that got me thinking,” Doc said. “Most legend is born in some fact, or perceived fact, right? For some reason, a story formed around here over the years that Father Salazar isn’t really down there, or at least not all the time. Either way, it’s worth a look. Leena suggested midnight at the earliest. Shouldn’t be any prying eyes around then. We definitely don’t want to rock any boats. The locals won’t take kindly to somebody digging up the bones of El Fantasma.”
Easy put a hand to his forehead. “Midnight! You just asking for trouble, mon. Hey, Easy, dey say. Why we don’ go dig up a dead mon’s bones at midnight? Be fun, don’ you tink?”
Lan laughed. “We’ll put ’em back! You remember Aruba, don’t you?”
Easy groaned, stood, and began collecting empty plates and glasses. “You all a bunch of crazy white people.” He headed for the door and dropped down into the cabin with his load.
“He’s superstitious, but don’t let him kid you. He wouldn’t miss it. Why don’t you two entertain future Miss Universe here while I go help with the dishes?”
“Thank you, Lan,” Paradise said. “Everything was wonderful.”
Lan patted her shoulder. “Everything usually is, sweetheart. Don’t you forget that.” He scooped up an armful of dishes and headed for the galley whistling.
Paradise leaned back and took in the blanket of stars. “He’s right, you know.”
“Everything’s usually wonderful?” Doc said.
“No. Sofia. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. She is. And so are you.”
Paradise looked at him. “Stop, Doc.”
“And everything is wonderful,” Doc said.
“Burt’s out there somewhere. He’s close. I can feel him.”
“He’s not gonna hurt you.”
“Maybe he’ll get eaten by howler monkeys.”
Doc laughed. She realized she liked the sound of it. When had that happened?
“Keep your fingers crossed,” he said.
Doc reached for her hand. So strange the way their hands looked, flesh intertwined. Hers delicate—nails painted pink. Pale skin stark against his, so brown and strong.
She traced a fine white scar running down his index finger. She would miss this man.
He was that—a man.
“You could, you know. Tonight. With the smell of the jungle. And the lights. With all these stars—you could,” she said.
“I could what?”
“Talk me out of it. The movie. Los Angeles. Everything. But only now. Only here. Right now, you could talk me into anything.”
His expression hardly changed, but his shoulders dropped a fraction, and his gaze went to the sea. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Maybe I could, but I wouldn’t. When you walked into Shorty’s that night, life changed for me. I won’t hide it—haven’t hidden it. It was like someone had hit the pause button on my life when I blew my knee out. Then you started it again—pushed play. It was life but more. Louder. More colorful. More alive. I’m not here to solve some puzzle. I don’t care about a treasure. I’ve already found it. I’m just trying to protect it.”
Paradise pressed into her chair. Everything spun. Too much. Too close. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?
Paradise Jones, Lazarus, Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico, Earth, Universe.
“What do you want, Paradise? Think now,” Jesus called from the cockpit.
“Don’t interrupt. It’s too confusing!” she snapped back silently.
“You’re you,” Doc said. “Dreams, clothes, the way you see things, your way of jumping subjects that makes me crazy—all of it. You’re you, and your dreams are part of it. To try and change it wouldn’t be love, and that’s the thing—I love you. So no, I wouldn’t talk you out of anything. You go be who you are, and I’ll love you because that’s who I am.”
“You know all the wrong things to say, you know that?”
“Jake always tells me the same thing.”
“You’d hate it. Los Angeles, I mean.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t care?”
“Not even a little.”
“Still … Oh, stop it, Doc. What are we talking about?”
What was she thinking?None of this is real! You’re drunk on starlight and ocean. His laugh. The way he smells. Get yourself together! It’ll all be over tomorrow.
“Will it?” Jesus called.
“I just can’t think,” Paradise said.
“I don’t want to upset you. That’s the last thing … ” Doc stood and picked up Sofia. “I’m gonna give this girl a tour. Sí, señorita?”
Sofia
giggled.
Alone on the deck, Paradise made her way to the cockpit and leaned against the ship’s wheel.
Truck Stop Jesus smiled.
“Oh, what now?” Paradise said.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Amen to that, brother.”
“Ha! I get it—amen… So, do I have to ask?”
“No. You know what I want. But he’d be miserable, wouldn’t he? Doc? In Los Angeles?”
“No. He’d be with you. He’d be with me.”
“You? You’re in my head,” Paradise said.
“At the moment. But I see your heart. It’s softening.”
“I’d never see him, anyway. I’ll be working night and day.”
“That’s true.”
“You’re not going to try to talk me out of it? You’re Jesus, right? Why don’t you just snap your little plastic fingers and change my mind?”
“Would you want me to?”
Paradise surveyed her hands on the wheel. Delicate, pale pink nails … All the parts yet incomplete somehow. Doc’s hand missing … “Maybe …”
“Love, unless it’s freely given, is no love at all. Look up. Look at those stars. Wild and free like me! Unbound and unchained. Sure, I could snap my fingers. I could speak a word and shift time and space. I paint sunrises with my fingertips. I ride stars through the sky. But I want your love, daughter. I want it freely given and joyfully received. I’m waiting for you to come home.”
“Daughter?”
“Yes.”
Lan’s head appeared in the salon doorway. “It’s time, girl. You ready to crash a bone yard?”
It took a second for Paradise to pull herself from her heart to the present.
“Am I interrupting something?” Lan said.
“Oh, no. Just daydreaming.”
“Good. Time to ride.”
His enthusiasm was contagious, and a thrill touched her. “Ready when you are, skipper.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Play That Funky Music White Boy
Hollister’s head spun. For not being John Travolta, he’d done a passable job. Better than passable. Play that funky music white boy …
If I don’t say so myself …
They’d danced to the magical sounds of Sombrero Man till Hollister’s legs began to turn to rubber, at which point Crystal had suggested they return to the room and begin the baby-making process posthaste, if not sooner.
Closing the bungalow door behind them, he’d told her she was beautiful. She’d shark-tooth grinned and sucker-punched him in the gut. Ah, true love …
Now his wife lay next to him in a tangle of sweaty sheets and post baby-making bliss.
And Hollister was in love again.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the dark jungle. What a trip, man. He whisper-sang his best Louie Armstrong. What a wonderful world… Yeah, a wonderful, cool, trippy, headache-free world. Amen and pass the biscuits, what could he say?
How could this have happened? Who cares? Don’t ask.
Crystal gave a loud snore.
So she was nuts. So what? He was nuts. The whole world was nuts. Maybe between them, they’d have a halfway normal kid. Anyway, somewhere between the dance floor and the lumpy bungalow bed, he’d made a decision. He’d be a great dad or die trying. Shoot, make it two kids. Five. Ten! Bring ’em on.
His cell phone buzzed, and Crystal stirred.
He grabbed it. Simmons …
“Yeah?” Hollister said.
“You sleeping?”
“What d’ya want? Take us out on the town with all your new pesos?”
“They’re here. And they’re on the move.”
“Who, the girl?”
“Of course, the girl, you idiot. One of Sammy’s cousins called when they went to the church today. I’ve had someone watching them ever since. They were in there forever, then they came out and walked around an old cemetery.”
“And you think they figured it out? The treasure? You think it’s in the cemetery?”
“I have no idea. If I did, you think I’d be talking to you now? But I had them followed. They’re staying on a boat at some dumpy marina. But right now, they’re on the move again. This time of night they must be going after the gold. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Meet us out front of the hotel. And bring the gun.”
“I gave it back to Sammy.”
There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line.
“Okay. Sammy still has it in his truck. Just c’mon.”
Hollister considered blowing the good doctor off and suggesting what he could do with the gun, but curiosity reared its head. What if there really was gold? Even a little? After all, he was going to be a dad. The responsible thing to do would be to explore the option. Raising a family could be expensive. At least, that’s what he’d heard.
“I ain’t shooting nobody. Let’s get that straight,” he said.
“Okay, whatever. Just get a move on.”
“Neither is Crystal.”
“Look. Just get your butts out here. Forget the gun. I’ll use it myself if I have to.”
“One more thing. I’ll help you look for the gold, but I’m done with the girl. You’re on your own on that one.”
A pause. “Then I want my money back.”
“How about if I break your legs instead?”
“For crying out loud, Hollister! Whatever! Keep the money, just get out here! I need a show of force.”
“Yeah. Cool. See you in three minutes.” Hollister thumbed off.
Crystal sat up, burped, and rubbed her eyes. “Who was that?”
“Simmons. The girl’s here. They’re going for the gold—right now.”
“Well, they say private schools are expensive.”
“They do. But only the best for our little ankle biters, right?”
“More than one?”
“Why not?”
Crystal stood and pulled her workout clothes on.
“You’re beautiful,” Hollister said.
“Shut up, moron.” She laughed and swung for his ribs, but he blocked the shot with a quick elbow.
“Let’s go get rich,” Hollister said.
“Rich, rich, leave Simmons in a ditch.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Go Big or Go Home
Doc maneuvered the car by the light of one dim headlight and a full Caribbean moon. Chuey’s battered Olds needed shocks, and the back roads of the Yucatan jungle reinforced that fact. In the rearview mirror, Lan and Easy came a foot off the seat as the car nailed yet another pothole.
“Sorry,” Doc said for the hundredth time in the last three miles.
Lan rubbed his head. “Let the lady drive, would you? You drive like you played ball, all or nothing.”
“Go big or go home,” Doc said.
“You’re gonna have to skip the graveyard and take us straight to the hospital,” Lan said.
“Don’ tink so, boss. We be dead by da time we get dere,” Easy said. “Jus’ dig a hole and bury our poor broken bones.”
“Paradise can’t drive anyway. She’s carrying precious cargo.” Doc glanced down at Sofia, sound asleep in Paradise’s lap.
“How anyone could sleep through this is beyond me. I feel like I’m in a B-52 dodging enemy fire,” Lan said.
Doc looked up at the mirror again. “Listen, ladies. Quit whining, or I’ll hit the next one on purpose.”
Doc parked next to the prefabricated dorms that backed the mission property. He exited the car and walked to the passenger door, lifting Sofia gently when Paradise handed her to him. The little girl didn’t stir.
“Out like a light,” Doc said.
“It’s been quite a night for her. I doubt she’s ever done anything like this before. I’m glad Leena let her come,” Paradise said.
Leena met them at the door. She reached for Sofia, but Paradise asked if she and Doc could put her to bed.
Leena led them to a room full of bunks and sl
eeping children and a handful of volunteer staff.
Doc stared. “How many do you have here?”
“Just over a hundred,” Leena said. “These are the younger girls. You know the crazy thing? I love every one of them.”
“It would be hard not to. I’m sad just bringing Sofia back. I miss her already,” Paradise said.
“Visit any time! They’d love it. Especially Sofia.”
Doc laid the tiny girl carefully in her bunk. She stirred slightly and reached for a stuffed lion, pulling it close.
Paradise opened her mouth as if about to speak, then shut it again.
“Hey, they have airplanes, you know. Especially for movie stars,” Doc said.
“I suppose … She’s just so precious. They all are. I wish there were something I could do for them.”
“They do have a way of changing a person’s perspective,” Doc said.
Paradise arranged the blanket around Sofia one last time and kissed the little girl on the forehead. At the door, she thanked and hugged Leena.
“You’re welcome,” Leena said. “Like I said, the cemetery’s isolated. No one will bother you out there. Just let me know what you find. The curiosity’s killing me! And make sure you leave everything the way you found it. Oh, and if you get caught, I’ll deny ever knowing you.”
Doc laughed. “Point taken. Don’t worry.”
Back in the Olds, Doc maneuvered the car down an overgrown path into the jungle behind the mission. After a half-mile or so a limestone wall rose up in front of them. Night noises pressed in as he killed the engine.
“Three hundred years, give or take, since the brothers were here. If they even were here. This is wild,” Doc said.
The four of them climbed out of the car.
“It’s quiet, mon,” Easy muttered. “Just jungle noise. We all alone out here. It ain’t good.”
“We need to be,” Doc said. “I don’t imagine the locals would look kindly on us tampering with their tooth fairy.”
Lan opened the trunk and handed out shovels and crowbars, as well as a flashlight for Doc and a lantern for himself. “Let’s get to it,” Lan replied. “And we’ll put it all back just like it was when we’re done. No harm, no foul. Lead the way, Doc. See if you can find the grave.”