by Al Turner
“Be right back,” he said as he headed for the bar. He slowly walked back inside, as if to give her a moment to study him. She decided to aimlessly go through the contents of her purse and check her phone.
***
As he entered the bar, Matt noticed the man in the ugly dress was still sitting there, as well as a hot young blonde. She simply glared at him, no doubt because she had to wait for service. She looked familiar. The queen had a silly grin that made him want to punch him. He and the girl had apparently been engaged in conversation. He ignored the man and nodded to the young woman.
“I’ll come get your orders right after I tend to this lady outside,” he said. He didn’t hear a response, but the girl’s expression was far from pleasant.
***
As he started to make her mother’s drink behind the bar, Carson graded him as painfully slow. A newbie at best, she thought. She noticed Shelby had taken an interest in what the bartender was doing too.
Matt turned his back to them tentatively as he added the final ingredients of the drink. Carson wondered if he sensed he was being watched.
She hoped the man hadn’t slipped her mom a roofie. “What’s your name, bartender?”
“Uh, Matt.”
“Uh? You’re not sure, Matt?” She watched as he grew irritated. She figured he was probably calling her a bitch in his mind and wished he would say it out loud. That way, she could justify decking him.
“It’s Matt.” He finished the drink, turned to head out from behind the bar, and ran right into the wall covered in floral fabric.
Shelby got up and stumbled into Matt, and the drink the bartender had been carrying flew back into himself. Initially, Matt jumped backwards. From his shirt to his white shorts, he was covered in the cold liquid. After the shock of it wore off, he raised his head and his temper flared.
“What the hell!” Matt clenched his fists. He threw the glass to the floor, shattering it and causing a couple at the table behind them to stop and watch. As if perfectly timed, the song on the jukebox ended, leaving an uneasy silence.
“Oh sir,” said Shelby. “I’m not sure which of us was the clumsy one, but let me apologize first.” The angry, wet bartender started to push past Shelby, who stopped him. “You should probably go to the bathroom and dry off, sir. You wouldn’t want the lady outside to think you peed yourself.”
Matt fumed even more as Carson laughed. He paused as if debating his next move, then carefully maneuvered around the beefier man and headed to the bathroom.
Carson decided that was her signal to join her mother out on the patio.
***
Kate almost leapt from her seat. She was expecting the figure that came up from behind her to be the flirtatious bartender carrying her drink. Instead, she saw the piercing blue daggers of her baby girl staring down at her. She instinctively glanced around to see who else might be there.
“Hello, Mother,” Carson said loudly. She slapped both her palms down on the table. She took the seat Matt had recently vacated, folded her arms, and glared.
“Mother,” Kate was aware, meant Carson was upset. How had she found her? She still hoped Carson hadn’t seen her sitting with the bartender.
“So who was the guy you were drooling over?”
Damn was the first thought that entered Kate’s mind. She really didn’t have a good story about why she was there. Of all the people to approach her now, she could hardly think of anyone worse than her daughter.
“How are you, my sunshine?” Answering a question with a question was the best she could manage.
“The guy?” demanded Carson.
“Oh honey, that was just the bartender.” Kate fumbled around to put the contents of her purse, tossed around when she was startled, back in their rightful places.
Carson leaned over the table to watch her fidget with the small Coach bag. “Is that a new purse?”
There is a Lord in Heaven, Kate thought, more than happy to change the subject. She placed it on the table to display to her daughter. “Like it?” she asked with a smile.
Carson’s eyes narrowed. “You showed me it two weeks ago, when you first bought it.”
“Oh, okay. Well, where’s your purse?”
“It’s in the car with Tripp.”
“Tripp is here too?” Kate looked around, wishing she had never even met the bartender.
“Why yes, Mother, but the momma’s boy was too chicken to come in. He wanted to keep that perfect image of you in his pretty lil’ head.”
Kate hoped nobody had heard the last statement. A couple eating nearby were staring straight at her. From the absence of smiles, she assumed they were from the northeast.
“You know,” said Carson, “it looked like the dude slipped something in your drink. Good thing he’s wearing it or you might’ve woken up with your legs spread, a bad headache, and no good cover story.”
“Carson!” her mother exclaimed. “Really!” She was both angry and embarrassed, as she noticed people at a couple of the other tables had started to watch the show. “You threw a drink on him?”
“No, that was the dude in drag,” she said, pointing toward the bar. “Hard to explain that story, so I won’t even try.” Kate felt perplexed. “Anyway, I need to go. Places to be,” she said, standing. “Besides, I don’t want to see any more. I might be asked to testify at your divorce.”
Carson walked away, ignoring her mother’s plea to sit and talk. She took the quickest route out the door, and Kate figured she probably didn’t even realize the drag queen and the bartender were gone. She was obviously in a hurry to retreat to her brother’s car.
***
The guy in drag casually walked into the men’s bathroom and scanned the area in front of him: two urinals, a single stall, and one sink. Matt wasn’t in the stall but waiting to ambush him from behind the door. It was time to play the game.
Matt meant to grab the sundress-wearing man around the throat and jab the knife into a rib. However, things didn’t go as planned. To his surprise, the man was quick and skillfully twisted Matt’s wrist behind his back while sweeping his leg out from under him. With grace and subtlety, he was disarmed, his face in the sink and the click of a small caliber, silenced weapon in his left ear. The bartender froze with the knowledge he had been set up. He waited, nervously, for the man who had bested him to speak.
“Where’s your partner?” his attacker asked in a calm yet firm tone.
Matt’s mind raced with questions. Who is this guy? How long has he been watching me? What does he know? He tried to remember his training and searched for a way out. There was no way he would talk to the guy.
“Look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have me confused with someone else.”
His forehead struck the porcelain sink with a thud. He tried to shake off the pain, but his head was again forced into the sink.
“The first one was for effect, the second for fun. Do you want to see what I do when I stop having fun?” the man asked sternly.
“No,” was all Matt could muster, his head ringing. But stalling further seemed pointless. “I don’t know where he is.”
The deep sigh let him know the man didn’t believe him. Whatever he did or said going forward, there was probably a bullet in his future. Matt wasn’t keen on the idea. He had plans. It wasn’t going to go that way, not without a fight. He just needed a bit of luck, like someone walking in at the right time. One tiny little distraction is all I need, he thought.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of waiting. The man painfully pinned his right hand behind him. Matt tried to move his left hand toward his own gun, tucked behind him and under the jacket. As soon as he tried to make the slightest move, his head once again met the sink. The last blow resonated through his head like a bell. He was barely aware of being dragged into the only stall in the bathroom and being sat on the throne. He stared up, still dazed, at the small black pistol with a silencer attached. Matt heard the man speak but didn’t quit
e catch what he asked this time.
His attacker drew a bit closer. “I said, do you like my dress?”
It was hardly the question he expected. The guy was toying with him.
“It’s ugly—like you, man.”
The man’s smile suggested he admired Matt’s spunk. “Well, I wore it just for you, little man. At least we’re making progress. Let’s try another one, shall we? Why are you here?”
“The woman,” Matt muttered.
“Wowsers, she’s a hottie,” he said with a whistle. “She’s also married to a preacher. Did you know there are special levels in hell dedicated to assholes who try to poke a preacher’s wife?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t really want to find out, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Matt said, staring up at the man to see if there was any possibility of getting out of the stall alive.
“Then tell me where your partner is,” he said as he drew even closer to Matt.
“Waiting on me,” he began, “to bring the woman. Can I move my hands, man? They’re killing me.” He had been tossed on the toilet seat, his hands tucked under him, beneath the seat. It was painful.
“No.”
Matt tried to ignore the pain and focus on how to get out of the stall. He felt a glimmer of hope when someone else entered the bathroom. That hope faded when his captor pressed the gun to the other man’s forehead and dared him to make a peep. The patron did his business and exited as quickly as he had arrived.
Matt’s hopes were further dashed when he realized the man was twirling his .40 caliber pistol, which he thought was concealed, in his free hand. He didn’t realize he had grabbed it.
“So you were supposed to hurt her? Rape? Kill?” asked the man, still twirling Matt’s gun.
“No, just hold on to her.”
He drew Matt’s pistol back as if to strike him with it.
“Okay, jeez. Not kill—just hurt her.”
“And?”
“Anything else I wanted, as long as she was in good health when I returned her.”
The man made a tsk-tsk sound as he shook his head. “Go on.”
“That part was very specific—not that I’d want to kill a woman.”
His attacker took a deep breath. “And the twins? When and where is your boy supposed to grab them?”
“I—I don’t know. My job only involved the woman.” The moment he said it, he knew the man didn’t buy it. He braced as the man clubbed him in the chin with the gun’s barrel. He shook it off. “I’m a dead man if I tell you any more,” Matt said, spitting blood.
“You’re already a dead man, soldier boy. Who else do you want to take with you?”
“Why should I talk if you’re just going to kill me?”
He stepped back, as if it were some revelation, and put away Matt’s gun. He produced a small syringe from another pocket. “I’ve got a better question, Matt. Why should you talk when this shit will make you sing?” He held the syringe in front of Matt’s face.
“What’s that?”
“Just a little happy juice,” he said, sticking it in Matt’s arm.
Matt felt the burning sensation travel through his body. After a moment, he started to relax. After a few more minutes, he no longer felt the pain in his head or hands. His vision had started to blur. He tried to move, but his body resisted.
“What’s your real name?” the voice asked, echoing in his head.
“Kevin. My employer gave me the name ‘Matthew’ to use.”
“Who’s your employer?”
Matt tried to resist, but the drug’s effects overwhelmed him. “Lloyd Tactical Forces.”
“What were your plans for the Page twins?”
“We were just going to grab the girl and hold her. Mama was the one I was looking forward to.”
“I bet. Now, if you weren’t such an amateur, you just might’ve noticed that the daughter was the little blonde you were eyeing at the bar.”
The realization hit Matt. “Oh shit,” he said, slurring his words. “The hot one? I have to go get her.” He tried to stand but only moved a couple of inches before realizing he wasn’t able to do more.
“I don’t think you have it in you,” the man said and patted his leg. “You really are a rookie.” He pulled the dress off. Underneath, his jacket was wrapped around his waist to make him look bigger, as well as keep it for later use. He removed his wig and grabbed a wipe, making quick work of removing the bad makeup job. Afterward, he stuffed everything in the dress, wadded it up, and placed it on Matt’s lap.
“Are you going to kill me?” Matt struggled to focus on the liquid the man was dousing the dress and him with.
“Yep.” He continued to squirt gasoline all over Matt and the surrounding area.
“You’re a sick prick,” Matt said, his head slouching.
“Says the lil’ bastard who was going to rape a preacher’s wife and steal his daughter.” He grabbed a cigarette, stuck it in Matt’s drooling mouth, and lit it. He quickly backed up. Matt tried to raise his head but couldn’t.
“Don’t worry, Matt,” the man said as he put his fedora back on. “The drug may kill ya first. The fire will cover my tracks.” He started to leave, then paused. Leaning back into the stall, he added, “Let me know if I was right about that special place in hell.”
He left the bathroom, whistling as he walked away.
CASTING OFF
Carson hadn’t said much since they had left the Brine Barnacle—that is, except words like “drive” and “faster.” She was angry and didn’t bother to hide it. At the same time, she wasn’t yet ready to talk about it.
They approached the bridge to Okaloosa Island in the seaside town of Fort Walton Beach. As expected, traffic slowed them down. She studied the blue water in the bay but preferred the emerald of the beaches. That’s where she looked for treasures in the form of seashells, sand dollars, or old coins— anything to make some jewelry to wear or sell. That’s where she sculpted her athletic build and dark tan. Like her Poppy, Carson loved the sea. She was ready to get back to the water, but the traffic was sluggish and patience wasn’t her virtue. Of course, she had many attributes folks didn’t find virtuous, but she was fine with that.
Carson’s phone vibrated again, but she refused to answer it. Afterward, Tripp’s phone rang once, but she threatened him if he touched it.
“You know she’ll worry if we ignore her,” he said.
“Good.”
Tripp allowed her to vent at times and get past whatever consumed her, just not at their mother’s expense. Carson figured he had decided to avoid a confrontation and would check in with his mother later when she wasn’t around. “Sorry.”
It took her a moment to acknowledge him. “For what?”
“For whatever happened between you and Mom.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Stop apologizing for things you didn’t do. I’ll be just fine.” In her mind, as soon as she boarded a boat and hit the water, her world would normalize again. If the boat they were heading toward was even half as nice as that blowhard had made it out to be, she would soon be enjoying ocean spray and cold drinks.
“I’ve found that your responses tend to exceed what is appropriate for a given scenario,” Tripp said.
“Did you just say I tend to overreact?”
“Yes.”
“Next time, simply say that instead of the crap you just spewed. I swear you love to sound more intelligent than anyone else around you.”
“Aside from my delivery, would you disagree with what I said?”
“You’re right. I do tend to overreact. As I said before, I’ll be fine.”
“Do you feel it’s wise to join a complete stranger on his vessel when you’re upset? We can always find something else to do.”
“We talked about this. If a dude can spend more than two hours putting up with my ass, then I don’t consider him a stranger anymore.” She knew even her brother could hardly argue that point. �
�If you’re worried, I told him we have a relative who’s a cop. And if he turned out to be a creep, I’d send the cop his picture and he’d be hunted down and castrated.”
“He didn’t rescind the invitation after that?”
Carson let out a big laugh and grinned. “I know, a real idiot, right? No worries—I’ll have you with me.”
“I’m hardly a foreboding presence, sis.”
“You’re tougher than you think. I remember a certain bully you picked up and tossed into the lockers when we were in high school.”
“Well, he did push you down and call you the b-word.”
“You can say bitch. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” She grinned. His disdain for profanity was just more evidence that he must have been switched with her real brother at birth. But just as she thought it, she could see in Tripp’s face her mother’s eyes mixed with a hint of their dad’s rugged looks. Such a waste, she thought. Her brother could break many hearts if he weren’t such a geek.
“Glad you’re smiling again,” Tripp said.
“All is well. I’m through being a whiny bitch for the day.”
“Then enough said.”
The rest of their journey was mostly silent, except for the radio and the wind from the open windows. They finally reached their destination, parked, and made their way down the pier.
Destin Harbor Boardwalk sat on the beautiful blue waters of Destin Bay. It had a nice marina, several bars, and various eateries. Assorted fishing trawlers, pleasure craft, and other boats traveled to and from the connecting bay.
Carson led them to a local hangout to grab a beer at the far end of the quarter-mile waterfront. They passed by a custom twenty-six-foot cruiser with dual outboards, moored nearby. Three people were sitting in the bow settee. A muscular man stood up and waved to get Carson’s attention. She pretended not to see Derrick and he slowly sat back down.
Carson approached the open bar and motioned to the bearded bartender, who, in turn, promptly filled a glass with cold, dark beer from one of several taps. He nodded as he handed it to her.
“On my tab, darling,” she said and walked back to where Tripp had stopped.