by David Banner
Published by Golden Pineapple Press.
Copyright 2017 by David Banner.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarity to any person, place or event is purely coincidental. While I try my best to keep the geography of the beautiful state of Florida correct, some of the places in this work are fictional.
CHAPTER ONE
T HERE WERE A MILLION DIFFERENT REASONS NOT TO HAVE GONE INTO THAT BAR, but none of them could stand against my one good one. My brother was in there, and I knew that I was the only person capable of convincing him to leave.
I had been to The Gator Tail a couple of times before, always for the same reason. To stop my brother from running the table on well meaning tourists (usually kids) looking for a good time and an easy pool game. Granted, we could have used the money, but there were other ways to get it; ways that didn’t involve scamming kids on Spring Break out of their tuition money. Besides, I preferred my brother keep himself on the down-low. We didn’t need any attention drawn to either of us, something that had been true for years.
The Gator Tail was the kinda place you’d find in any coastal town. That is, as soon as you managed to make your way to the most undesirable side of it. It was an old, rundown, “paint-peeling-off-the-walls, smoky-filled-air” kind of place. And the people that kept the lights on and the neon gator tail swinging, well… lets just say they weren’t the type you’d see throwing a 4th of July yacht party.
“Hey,” I said, putting my hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Bro, I’m one eight ball away from my third straight win with these suckers,” he whispered in my ear.
The “suckers” he motioned to were a not so happy looking duo that I was pretty sure were a dad and his son. Like so many before them, they had probably just come trying to blow off some steam and grab a couple of drinks while the rest of the family spent the night by a bonfire, or counting the stars along the beach, or whatever it was that tourists did to fill their time when coming to the coast.
“They don’t look too happy with you at the moment, little brother. We both know how this goes. Lets just leave now before a problem presents itself. We don’t need this right now,” I said.
“I can’t just walk away now, Brandon, I’m in the middle of a game. It’ll look bad. Besides, you know how I feel about problems.” He smiled.
You mean how you’re usually the cause of them? I thought, though I decided to use my words for more constructive questions.
“Look bad to whom? Who cares? Let’s go,” I said.
“Dude!” He stepped back a little.
“Micah!” I said. “Just leave. C’mon.” And that’s when, wouldn’t you know it, a problem presented itself. I should be a freaking fortune teller.
“No one’s going anywhere!” said the larger of the two men, the dad. He had a five o’clock shadow that was working overtime and, even from here, I could smell the rum on his breath. “This game ain’t over. I’m gonna win that money back from this punk!”
I really didn’t need that, all I wanted was an easy night. To find my brother, bring him home, grab a drink, and sit down, but Calico Jack here seemed to have other plans for me.
“Listen, man,” I said, trying to reason with him, though I know there’s absolutely no real hope of that here. The stale air and cheap liquor had always been enough to block any kind of reason or common sense from finding its way across the water. That was the beauty of The Gator Tail, I guess. It never seemed to falter. “Lets just settle this easy, I’ll have my little brother here give you back the money from the last two games. No need to win it. No need to keep playing. You can go back to your hotel. We’ll head home and it’ll be like none of it ever happened. Cool?”
I had spoken some variation of those words probably twenty times at that point and only once had it ever worked. Every other time it ended just as I knew this situation would, with bloody fists and broken glass, it was going to be the same old, same old.
“No,” the other man, skinny with slicked back hair and a gap between his front teeth, said. “It is absolutely not cool.” He grabbed his father’s arm, tugging at the larger man’s sleeve. “I told you he was a damned pool shark, Dad. That’s the only reason he’d be willing to just give us our money back. He stole it in the first place!”
“Hey!” Micah yelled, pointing his cue stick at the younger man like an accusation. “I’m not a thief. If you were stupid enough to believe I couldn’t sink a simple 8 ball in the corner pocket, then maybe you don’t deserve your money!”
“Dammit, Micah!” I said under my breath, my jaw tightening. I had seen all of this too many times, thanks to my troublesome younger brother. I had watched people be cool, and I had watched them lose that cool. That was how I knew where the tipping point was. It was also how I knew the mountain of a man standing across the table from us had just flown right past it.
“Get behind me,” I said an instant before the father screamed like a damned banshee and threw himself across the table.
Pulling the cue stick out of my brother’s hands, I held it horizontally in mine. The huge man’s own hands were outstretched and they latched around the cue stick as I thrust it toward him.
Using its leverage, I tried to keep him at bay, but the big guy had at least seventy pounds on me. So it took all I could do just to slow him down.
He snapped the stick in two, splinters flying in my face as the force sent me stumbling backward.
I slammed hard against Micah, who kept me from falling.
“I am going to kick your ass for this,” I whispered back at him. Then, looking at the man lumbering toward me, shards of cue sticks in his hands. “Just as soon as I kick his ass first.”
“Fair enough,” Micah said, staring at the man. “Fire alarm?”
“Fire alarm,” I agreed and felt him leave, rushing toward the far door.
About ten seconds and one jab-to-the-side later the fire alarm began howling and the sprinklers started flowing. Which sent the bar into absolute chaos, seeing as how until then our little brawl had gone mostly unnoticed thanks to the poor lighting and loud music.
“Get moving, bro!” my brother shouted from behind me.
As I turned to run, Jack Jr. was standing right in front of me. Before I could think he dropped low and swung his leg around in a semi-circle, his leg collided with the back of my knee sending me to the floor. I did manage to get in one good dick-punch on the way down, which sent him crashing to the floor next to me on his knees.
Jumping back up I could see the older man headed straight for my brother, who was trying to find me through all the confusion. Taking in my surroundings I had only one weapon at my disposal. I quickly grabbed the stool nearest to me, and taking a cue from his son, slammed it into the back of his knees, which left him down for the count.
I grabbed Micah’s hand and made a beeline for the door, but we were just a few seconds too late. Blue and red lights had already begun to dance across the parking lot, and a flurry of cops was headed right for us.
“Back door, back door!” Micah said, grabbing my shoulder and turning on his heels. We made a mad dash across the empty bar, dodging fallen stools and broken glass, until entering the kitchen. “Go!” he yelled. Heading for the door. Something we had both done before on nights very similar to this one.
It was nothing short of miraculous that we managed to make it out of the bar, across the beach and under the pier without being spotted by the cops. But you can only count on miracles so many times, by then I had begun to wonder just how much longer our l
uck would hold out.
“We can’t keep doing this.” I said, turning Micah.
“So long as we don’t get caught we can do anything we want, big bro.” He smiled slamming a stack of cash against my chest. “You just gotta chill a little. We’ve gotten ourselves this far haven’t we.”
“I know, Micah. Running cons on rich idiots is one thing when we’re doing it for survival, but its another thing entirely to do it for sport, and I kind of feel like that’s where we’re heading, at least... you are.”
“Wow!” he said, falling back onto the sand. “Hit ‘em where it hurts. To single me out like that… That’s… wow....”
“I’m not trying to single you out. We’re together in everything, always, you know that. But I’m always the big brother in this situation, which means you’ll always be my little brother. And nothing you say can make me not feel responsible for the kind of man you are. It’s just the way of it,” I said, lying back on the sand beside him.
It’s almost silly in a way, but lying in the sand next to my brother, even though we were no longer children somehow always managed to make me feel better. That childhood innocence, the ignorance and bliss that comes with not realizing how royally fucked you are most of the time always seems to find it’s way back to me.
A thousand thoughts must’ve run through my mind, but I couldn’t tell you one of them. That was the beauty of the ocean at night. The crashing waves, the ones that looked so dark, so different under the white light of the moon, they just seemed to block out the whole world, even yourself.
“C’mon,” I said, shaking my brother awake. “It’s getting late, lets get home before someone finds us out here and we lose that money you worked so hard for.”
Pulling off my shoes and holding them in my hand, we quietly made our way back to the apartment we had been calling home for the last few months. For as much as I loved the state of Florida, the beaches, the waters, and the air, there was something about Miami that just never seemed right. Sure, it had it moments, if you caught it at just the right light when the sun was low and the water was high it really could be beautiful. But more often than not, it just seemed too big, too crowded, and too new.
Ever since I was a kid the thing I loved most about Florida was how genuine it all looked. How old, how weathered and worn it had gotten from the moisture in the air and the lack of façade its residents put forth, that’s what kept it real.
But maybe those were just the memories of a child, from summers at our beach house in Key West when that same innocence I sought out now kept me from seeing what was right in front of me. But that’s not what I choose to believe. It might be silly, but I choose to believe that my memories are true and that everything really was as I saw it all those years ago.
“Oh hey. A phone call came for you earlier. A lady, Miranda Morris, I think…” Micah said.
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I said. “What’d she want?”
“To meet with you. I told her tomorrow was good. Something about a legal matter. She said it had to do with Mom and Dad.”
“Mom and Dad?” I said, unsure what to make of it.
“Yeah, she said she needed to speak to you. That it was important.”
“And you just told some random woman I’d meet with her?” I asked.
“She said it was about Mom and Dad. I figured you’d wanna go.” Micah stopped.
“I do,” I said. “Did she say anything else?”
“Something about Myer and Hoffer… I think.” He started walking again.
“Myer and Hoffman?” I asked.
“Maybe…”
“That’s the company from Atlanta, the one that handled everything after Mom and Dad—”
“Ohh, right. I remember that. That’s what she meant about it being good for her to get away. She must want to come to the beach.”
“I guess,” I said.
A few more silent minutes passed by as we finally reached our door. But I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking I was going to get any sleep. Not when the ghosts from my past were flying around in my head.
CHAPTER TWO
I ARRIVED FOR MY MEETING WITH MIRANDA A HALF HOUR EARLY. Mostly just to give me a few extra minutes to mull over a few of the million thoughts and memories that now flooded my head. It's a funny feeling, having things you've purposely blocked form your mind all come marching back in at once. The thoughts and images layered themselves on top of one another in a way that was somehow both jagged and fuzzy, as though they themselves were trying not to come back.
Ever since arriving in Miami this had been one of a handful of places I actually liked spending my time. I'm sure that's why Micah chose it, to try and soften the blow of whatever garbage can fire this woman was likely about to start. The Vizcaya Museum & Gardens was truly a sight to behold, full of European antiques and treasures dating all the way back to the 16th century. Both the interior and exterior were just as opulent, gold and marble filled the interior while large gardens lined the intricate stone pathways.
Strolling just beyond the back of the house I found my way to my favorite spot. A small bench sat perched beneath a large tree, backed by an old stone railing. It was beautiful in a million different ways, it was both calming and vibrant, peaceful and exciting and, thanks to the wonder that is Florida, it was always kissed by a coastal breeze.
I didn't ask my brother where exactly on the property he had told Miranda to meet me, but I was sure he had told her exactly where to find me. Micah had been to Vizcaya with me a handful of times, but I had been plenty without him too. This was just more my scene than his really.
"Mr. Waters?” a voice called from the old stone steps.
"I am,” I said, turning to see Miranda.
I couldn't tell you why, but in my head Miranda had been a short, slightly heavyset woman with brown hair and glasses. What I saw walking up the steps toward me however was nothing short of gorgeous. Long cherry-red hair cascaded down her shoulders in large curls, she was tall, curvy and dressed in one of those vibrantly colored short in the front, long in the back dresses people wear dancing.
"Wow..." I muttered before realizing it. "That's a lovely dress."
"I brought one of my girlfriends down with me. We're spending the weekend, see what Miami's all about." She smiled before sitting next to me. "I'm leaving here and headed to a restaurant in Little Havana that we read about. Supposed to have great lunch, then on to the beach."
"Sounds like a plan." I smiled back.
"So, I guess you're wondering why I needed to meet with you,” she said, opening a large leather binder.
"Little bit..." I said.
"I'm not exactly sure where to start in all of this,” she said, the smile slowly fading from her face.
"I'd prefer you to just launch right in,” I said, leaning forward a slight bit.
"Well, as you know, this month marks the ten-year anniversary since your parents went missing." Hearing the words coming from her lips made me realize I hadn't even thought about that.
"Right..." I stammered. "I hadn't really given it much thought I guess. We were young."
"Yes," she said, a shadow of compassion falling over her. "I'm sure it must've been very hard for the two of you."
"Wasn't the best,” I said flatly.
"Right. As you know it was our law firm that handled your parents estate,” she said.
"I remember,” I stated.
"Due to the length of time that has passed, the courts have no choice but to declare both of your parents deceased. That, in turn leaves the remainder of the estate ready to be divided between you and your brother,” she said.
"Shouldn't he be here for this?" I asked.
"Your parents left instructions for you to be the one handling the estate. At the time you were a little older, so it makes sense in a way. It's very common actually,” she said. "It's not an earth-shattering change but, combined with the property, you should be comfortable enough."
"What property?”
I asked. “Our old house burned after all of that.”
"Anna Maria,” she said, handing me a small stack of legal papers.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"It's a place,” she said, looking a little confused. "I thought your family vacationed to Florida regularly throughout the majority of your childhood."
"Yes," I said. "A couple of times a year. We would go to Key West, my parents loved it there."
"Key West." Her head tilted. "There's no mention of Key West in any of the documentation I've seen."
"We always stayed at hotels and resorts,” I said. "Now I'm confused. What are we talking about?”
"Your parents owned a house on Anna Maria Island, Florida. That house now belongs to you and your brother, 516 Beach Cove Way. That’s your new house." She smiled.
"Where's Anna Maria Island?" I asked, pulling my phone from my pocket and opening a map. "The Gulf?" I said, now looking at the map view of the state I loved so much. "I don't ever remember going on the west coast. It was always just Key West and, if we were lucky, the occasional stop in Orlando. Are you sure this is right?”
"I'm positive." She smiled. "You are now the proud owner of a four-bedroom beach house on Anna Maria Island. I looked it up, it's looks wonderful there."
"This just makes no sense,” I said, slouching back on the bench a little. "Why would they have never mentioned it?"
"I can't answer that,” Miranda said.
"I just don't see my parents owning some random island beach house and never bringing us there. My parents lived for that kind of stuff. We would plan our next vacation over dinner almost every night..." I said, my voice fading away into the confusion.
"Listen, I know this can be a lot to take in. Why don't you take the rest of the day to process all of this and tomorrow we can go over the details of everything?” she said.
"Tomorrow?" I asked.
"Yes. Like I said, my girlfriend and I will be spending the weekend here. What do you say, a late lunch tomorrow, around 1:00pm?" She smiled and placed her hand on mine.