Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  “Welcome to Montego Bay, ladies and gentleman. We thank you for flying Air Jamaica and hope you enjoy your stay.”

  As the plane taxied along the runway Summer peered through the window at the houses, large and small, tucked away on the green hills in the distance. The scene was different from the one she’d seen two years earlier when she had arrived on a cruise ship. Then, her very first view of Jamaica had been turquoise waters, white sand, and tourists engaged in all kinds of water sports - parasailing, water skiing and boating. This time she watched as local air traffic controllers guided the aircraft into position in preparation for the disembarkation of the passengers.

  Summer’s heart skipped a beat. No matter that this was a business trip, she was filled with anticipation and excitement at being on the island. She glanced over at Lance who sat in the aisle seat and saw that he was still engrossed in the sheaf of papers he had pulled from his briefcase. She guessed that he’d been back to Jamaica so many times before that arriving here didn’t affect him like it did her.

  She turned her attention back to the window and watched as a vehicle came right up to the side of the plane and the technicians connected the portable stairs. She was glad that Super Cool, a young Jamaican singer, sat between Lance and her. She’d been afraid that she would have been forced to make small talk with her boss but she needn’t have worried. Super Cool’s chatter kept her fully entertained and Lance kept his nose buried in his papers for most of the four hour flight.

  Summer was pleasantly surprised when they entered the airport’s immigration lobby and was greeted by a gaily dressed group of singers who welcomed them to the island with a medley of local folk songs and a small glass of rum punch for each arriving passenger.

  It was only then that she saw a change in Lance’s distant mood. He relaxed visibly in the presence of the friendly group and even exchanged a few words with them in their local dialect. Summer couldn’t help smiling when she heard them. Lance had converted from Chicagoan to island man just like that. She wondered if his attitude would change, too - she wouldn’t mind if he became less cold and formal. She was tired of being called ‘Miss Jones’.

  The hotel had sent a bus to collect all their arriving guests. It took them one hour and fifteen minutes to cover the forty-five miles from Montego Bay to their hotel in Ocho Rios. Summer didn’t mind the journey one bit. She sat right up front with the driver and drank in every bit of the rural Jamaican scenery.

  The tourist town of Montego Bay was teeming with visitors walking the streets in shorts and sandals, colorful shirts and wide-brimmed straw hats. At her expression of surprise at their numbers Simon, the driver, explained that this was how it was when a cruise ship came into port.

  What made it worse, he said, was that it was the middle of the summer season and many visitors, tourists as well as Jamaicans living abroad, were taking advantage of their children being on vacation to visit the island. He explained that outside of the January-February winter season the summer months were the heaviest for visitor arrivals.

  “We don’ mind it at all,” he smiled as he spoke in his heavy Jamaican accent. “The more visitors we have the more money we get. Everybody make money and we can sen’ the children to school when September come. Yeah, man, tourism is good for all o’ we.”

  Summer laughed and settled back in her seat to enjoy the view she had from this vantage point. Somehow she felt totally relaxed, almost care free. She didn’t know if it was the warm sunshine that baked the arm she rested on the window or the vividness of the colors all around her - the sky was so blue and the hills so green. She only knew that she was in high spirits. She couldn’t explain it so she just put it down to ‘Island Fever’ - maybe that’s how you were when you live on an island. No wonder these people were always saying, ‘No problem, man’.

  As they left Montego Bay they drove along the rolling green plains and golf courses of Rose Hall and went past the magnificent Rose Hall Estate where, Simon said, the plantation owner used to control her slaves simply by threatening to place a curse on them. He told her how Annie Palmer, called the White Witch of Rose Hall by the locals, had had three husbands and had killed them all, one after the other, with her witchcraft. She finally met her end at the hand of an old African witchdoctor, Takoo, who killed her because she’d placed a curse on his granddaughter that drew her into a deep depression that finally led to her death.

  Summer was so intrigued by the story that she kept plying Simon with questions until Lance, who had so far been silent, broke in. “You seem to be very interested in this witchcraft thing. Be careful you don’t scare off any prospective suitors.”

  Summer turned in her seat and looked back at him. He was smiling at her in his usual mocking manner. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer handsomeness of him and the retort which was at the tip of her tongue was suddenly lost in her confusion.

  Like Summer, Lance had dressed casually for the trip. He wore a short sleeved cotton shirt and jeans. His head was bare and his short-cropped hair shone black and shiny in the rays of sunlight that streamed in through the window. No matter what Lance wore there was no hiding his commanding presence and arresting profile.

  “Cat got your tongue?” His question dragged her out of her reverie and she replied quickly, hoping he couldn’t see the effect he was having on her.

  “Not at all. I was just thinking that a woman like Annie Palmer would make the perfect wife for someone I know.”

  “Ooh.” Simon laughed at the remark. “Is a really saucy sista we have here.”

  “Yeah, Simon.” Lance joined in the laughter. “See what I have to put up with?”

  “But dat’s good, sah. She hot jus’ like the Jamaican girls. Das how I like it. A woman mus’ speak up for herself, man.”

  “I should leave this one with you for a while, Simon. You’d be begging me to take her back in a week.” Lance’s voice crackled with laughter and the other people in the bus, Super Cool and a honeymooning couple, all joined in the laughter.

  “Will you stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” Summer frowned at Lance then turned to Simon who covered his mouth with one hand, struggling to contain his laughter. It was no use. It burst out of him and he laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face.

  Finally Summer gave in and laughed too. Then, trying to sound stern again, she said, “Okay, Simon, enough laughing. I need you concentrating on these winding roads, not laughing your head off.”

  “Alright, Miss.” Simon quieted down, but still chuckled as he said, “I don’ want to scare you. Jus’ relax now and enjoy the sunshine and the sea breeze. Alright?”

  With a smile Summer nodded, leaned back in her seat and did as he instructed.

  The rest of the journey was quiet and pleasant. They drove along the sea coast through fishing villages and small towns until the tall hotel buildings of Ocho Rios came into view. Within another ten minutes they were standing in the luxurious lobby of the Grand Caribbean Hotel.

  The front desk manager greeted them with a smile and a glass of rum punch for each guest.

  “What is it with these people?” Summer asked, shaking her head. “Are they trying to get us all drunk?”

  The comment brought a smile to Lance’s face, but he remained silent.

  As they were checking in there was a noise behind them and they turned to see Derrick coming towards them wearing nothing but a pair of baggy shorts and a towel draped across his shoulders. There were grains of sand on his sandaled feet and his shorts clung damply to him.

  “Hey, guys,” he called loudly, “You finally made it.”

  He greeted Lance and Super Cool then turned appreciative eyes on Summer. She stared boldly back at him, her eyes daring him to make his usual chauvinistic remarks. On seeing her stern look he simply grinned and said, “Dang, girl, why so grumpy? This is Jamaica, man. The least you could do is try to look happy.”

  Not wanting to seem ungracious Summer pasted a smile on her face and replied, “H
ello, Derrick.”

  “Now that’s more like it,” he said and threw his arms around her in a big bear hug.

  Lance stared at them questioningly then asked, “You two know each other?”

  “Yeah,” Derrick responded as he released Summer. “I met this fine lady the day I came by your office for the documents. You’re a lucky man. This girl is hot.”

  Summer looked away, deeply embarrassed at the man’s open praise. She wished he would shut up. Lance didn’t respond but Summer stole a glance at him and saw that his face was stern. Then his face cleared and she wondered if she had imagined it.

  He looked at his watch and said, “Three o’clock. Okay, guys, we’ll regroup at six for the dinner meeting with the managers from Rock Steady Promotions. I’m going to take a quick nap so I’ll be fresh for later. I’d suggest you both do the same.” He put his hand to his mouth and quickly stifled a yawn. “Getting up to catch a six o’clock flight is a real killer.”

  He picked up his bag then looked at Derrick. “I expect you to be there. On time.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Munroe, sir.” Derrick straightened his back and saluted smartly, then, relaxing his posture, he laughed and clapped Lance on the back. “Hey, man, I’ll be there. You know me.”

  “I do. So just show up on time, alright?”

  “Cool, man. No problem.”

  After Lance departed for his room Summer left Super Cool and Derrick in the lobby and took the elevator to her own room. She had a beautiful view of the ocean. As soon as she had deposited her bags in the closet she opened the glass sliding door and went out onto the balcony to drink in the view.

  It was a warm, sunny day and the afternoon sun glistened on the blue sea that stretched before her. Down below she could see people, black and white, lying on the white sand and playing in the water. Children shrieked and laughed as they played. Just watching them made Summer’s tiredness disappear.

  She thought of the hot pink bikini she’d brought and suddenly decided to go down for a quick swim. After this trip she didn’t know when she’d make it back to Jamaica. Why not make the most of it? After all, they’d be heading for Kingston day after tomorrow so she might not get another chance to enjoy the beach.

  Summer pulled her bag out of the closet and dumped it on the bed. She dug through and pulled out a pink t-shirt and a pair of white shorts and her hot pink bikini.

  Within fifteen minutes she was walking on the hot sand, her sandals dangling from her fingers. It felt so good when grains of sand slid between her toes that, as she walked, she stopped every few minutes to dig them deep into the sand and feel the warmth envelop her feet.

  She spied a gazebo with palm fronds for a roof. Guests sat around the counter on high stools and bartenders were serving cold drinks and liquor. Just what I need, she thought, and headed for the oasis on the sand.

  As she downed a tall glass of lemonade Summer leaned back against the bar and watched the water skiers go by. A snorkeling class was also in progress. The instructor was a tall, very black man with wide shoulders and an incredibly narrow waist. Each time he ducked his head into the water then stood up again he flashed his dreadlocks and sent drops of water flying in all directions. He smiled often with his group and his teeth flashed white in the sun. Summer stared at him, smiling involuntarily at his joviality.

  At that moment the man looked straight back at her. His smile widened and he raised his hand in a wave. Feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d caught her staring she waved back feebly then ducked her head to suck on her straw.

  “Hey, baby. What you doing down here with all them clothes on?”

  As Summer turned towards the voice she rolled her eyes. There was only one person she knew who would greet her that way.

  “Hello again, Derrick.” Her tone lacked any warmth or friendliness.

  “What are you drinking?” He perched on the stool next to her and rubbed the back of his head with a towel. “God, that water’s good.”

  “Lemonade,” she said in a bored tone.

  “That’s it? Kinda soft for a girl like you, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice was sharp.

  “You know…college girl, sophisticated and all that. I know about all the drinking and partying that goes on at college.”

  “Listen. You don’t know anything about me so don’t make assumptions.” She fixed him with a glare. “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke and I don’t sleep around. So whatever you think you know about college women don’t go using that to brand me, okay?”

  “Whoa, ease up, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. I just think you’re a beautiful woman and you come off as so independent. I really like that in a woman. Don’t think I’m trying to put you down, baby. No way -- I’m a fan.”

  “Oh…thanks.” Not knowing what else to say Summer tried to change the subject. “So when did you arrive at the hotel? You look so settled here.”

  “I got in yesterday. Wanted to get here a little earlier than you guys to tie up some other business. That’s taken care of so right now I’m just chillin’ on the beach.” He relaxed with his back against the bar, his slight paunch exposed to the open air, and stared out at the blue water lapping against the sand.

  “Doesn’t get any better than this - good weather, good food, and a beautiful woman by your side.”

  At that moment the bartender approached with a pleasant smile and asked, “And what may I serve the lovely couple?”

  “We’re not a couple,” Summer was quick to tell him.

  “But you never know, know what I’m saying?” Derrick laughed and threw a casual arm around Summer. She shrugged it off and pushed her empty glass away.

  “Let me have a Red Stripe Beer,” Derrick ordered, “and bring something nice for the lady. What’re you having Summer?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  “Aw, come on. Have a drink with me,” he cajoled.

  “I just had a drink.”

  “Lemonade?” he scoffed. “Have a real drink.”

  “What’s wrong with lemonade?”

  “Nothing, but you’re on an island, honey. Live it up a little.”

  Summer sighed. “Okay, if you insist. I’ll have a Pina Colada. Virgin.”

  “How’d I know you were going to say that?” Derrick laughed then turned to the bartender. “Pina Colada it is, my man. But hold the spirits.”

  As Summer sipped her drink and Derrick guzzled his beer he told her about the Reggae Sumfest Show that had taken place the month before. He gave such a vivid description of the various acts that Summer almost felt like she’d been there.

  His skills at commentary surprised her and she soon found herself deep in animated conversation with the man who had so recently been nothing but a source of annoyance. By the time Derrick finished his account of the events Summer was responding enthusiastically. When he later invited her for a swim she gave in, more relaxed in his company.

  “Well, come on then, girl. We don’t have all day.”

  He jumped off the stool and raced away. With a laugh she ran after him. When he reached the water he kept on running then plunged into the gentle waves rolling in to the shore. Summer stopped short, suddenly remembering that she was still fully dressed.

  “Come on,” Derrick called to her. “What are you waiting for?”

  “This.” Summer pointed to her clothes. “I’ve still got all this stuff on.”

  “Well, get rid of them, woman.” Derrick’s grin was infectious. “Go change real quick and get in here or else I’m gonna come get you and drag you in, clothes or no clothes.”

  She took his threat seriously and scampered off to the nearest kiosk where she quickly ripped off her shorts and t-shirt. She handed them to the clothing check girl and accepted the large beach towel which was offered.

  Within minutes she was back at the water’s edge watching Derrick doing the back stroke. When he spied her still standing there, the towel draped loosely around
her, he yelled, “I’m coming to get you,” and began swimming to shore.

  With a squeal she let the towel fall to the sand to reveal the hot pink bathing suit which accentuated the soft curves of her slender body. Derrick pulled up short, then whistled in appreciation and Summer felt her body tingle with embarrassment, but mostly with pleasure at his appreciative response.

  She stepped gingerly into the frothy water at the shore line and was surprised at its warmth. She plunged in and swam towards Derrick. The warm water of the Caribbean sea washed over her body and she reveled in its caress.

  Summer had so much fun and the time passed so quickly with Derrick that she lost track of time. It was only when she heard a woman call to her child to come in for dinner that she remembered that she had an evening engagement.

  “Derrick,” she gasped, “the dinner. We need to go get dressed.”

  “Shoot, I forgot all about that.” He stopped mid backstroke and began to tread water as he peered at her through the salty water running down his face.

  “I’m sure it’s late,” she said. “I wonder what time it is?”

  “Well, we won’t know if we stay here. Come on.”

  He made for the shore and Summer swam after him. He waited for her to retrieve her clothes. She didn’t stop to put them on. They both ran, dripping wet, to the hotel lobby where the huge clock showed five thirty-six. Summer groaned. She had twenty four minutes to get dressed and be back downstairs for the dinner meeting.

  Suddenly, before she knew what was happening, Derrick grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. He pulled her close in a strong embrace and bent his head to plant a wet kiss on her startled lips.

  “Thanks for a lovely afternoon,” he breathed against her face. He released her slowly and she stared up at him, still clutching her clothes and sandals in one hand and the beach towel in the other.

  “How romantic.”

  At the sound of the deep voice Summer turned to see Lance standing by the door of the lounge, fully dressed for the evening. He had a glass in his hand and looked totally relaxed as he stared at his two employees.