by Marie Moore
Like Chase and George, Jay is a city boy. He comes from a small industrial town in Pennsylvania. His hometown had parks instead of woods, and he moved to New York as soon as he got a chance. I thought the urban upbringing had a lot to do with the fear these three men shared. Nature was just out of the realm of their experience.
Jay sat in the Rover for a while by himself before finally giving up and joining us. Maybe boredom conquered his fear, or maybe he got scared being alone in the Rover in the dark. For whatever reason, I was surprised but glad to see him at the table ordering a drink.
“Vincent, where is the bathroom?” Connie asked, after we had all been served. “I gotta go.”
“There is no bathroom, lady. You must go there, in the tall grass, out of the circle of light. Take a friend with you. One of you go. One of you keep watch.”
“Keep watch for what?”
Vincent just looked at her.
“Keep watch for the lions, that’s what,” Jay said, moving closer to Vincent and his rifle. “The hungry ones. The lions who are hunting for their dinner. Can’t you wait, Connie? I’m not going. Not even if I have to pee in my pants. Do you really, really have to go?”
Connie made a face at him.“Yes, I do,” she said. “I totally can’t wait.”
“I’ll walk with you, Connie,” I said, setting my empty glass on the table. “I might as well go, too.”
“Scream if something comes,” George said. “So we can run for the jeeps.”
They would, I thought, and they’d drive away, too.
Tending to your business in the near-dark African bush is a tense experience, to say the least. We didn’t linger, and were mighty glad to step back into the clearing.
“How was it?” George called out, as we joined the group.
“Scary,” Connie said, “and that sage grass tickled.”
“Be glad that’s all that tickled.”
When cocktail time ended, we climbed back into the vehicles to head back to camp for the evening meal. Anthony, the giant game spotter riding in the seat on the front fender, turned on a big spotlight that he played on the branches above us as we went. Vincent drove slowly now in the gathering darkness.
“Anthony looks for leopard,” Vincent said.
Jay shuddered. He was scanning the tree limbs with his binoculars more intently than Anthony.
“How much fun is this?” I said to him, trying to get his mind off leopards. “Don’t you think it’s exciting?”
I was apparently fully back in favor. He had taken the seat next to me for the ride home.
Ignoring my remark, he stared grimly through his binoculars as we rushed through the now pitch-black night.
“What are you looking for, Jay? It’s totally dark. You can’t possibly see anything.”
“Eyes. You can see eyes in the dark.”
“Oh. Okay.” I tried again. “Didn’t you just love the sundowners?”
“No, Sidney, I did not. I did not like it at all. What is there to like about standing defenseless out in the open, in the dark, having drinks with wild animals all around? They were probably circling, watching us, smelling us, trying to decide which one of us would taste best. What is so great about that? What is to keep a lion from just sneaking up and biting my ass? I ask you, what?”
He was on his podium now, center stage, really winding up. “In Kenya they won’t allow you to ride in open vehicles, Sidney, and you absolutely are not allowed to even step out of the car, much less get out and walk around. Here, they have you riding in a convertible, and they set up a table in the open and have cocktails. I ask you, why would it not be safe in Kenya but it is safe here? Are the Kenyan lions hungrier than these lions? I don’t think so.”
“The tourist rules are just different here, Jay,” Fernando said.
“Oh, okay, okay. That explains it. Do the lions know the rules?”
“Well,” I said, “what about the Masai tribe in Kenya, Jay? They just walk around everywhere, out in the open, all over the Masai Mara, and the lions don’t eat them. What about that?”
Connie chimed in. “Well, see, I think the lions ate some of them one time and didn’t like the way they tasted. The Masai wear those red robes all the time and so the lions have learned that the red ones have a funny taste that they don’t like so they just leave them alone. Kind of like a little kid knows that the broccoli he hates the taste of is green, you know what I mean?”
Jay hooted. “No, Connie, no one ever knows what you mean and neither do you. All I know is, this little soiree in the dark is no fun. It makes me nervous. I don’t like it. I don’t think clients would like it, either, especially High Steppers.”
“I think it is romantic, this tiny brush with danger,” Fernando said. “I will look forward to tomorrow’s sundowners.”
“Do they do this every night?” George asked.
“Not every night,” Jay groaned.
“Every night,” said Vincent, as he turned onto the main lodge road toward home.
Chapter 11
It was the leopard track that really did it for Jay.
Back in camp after our first game drive, we had stopped by our hut to leave our cameras and freshen up. And after a glass or four of that excellent South African wine and another costume change in our comfortable lodging, Jay’s fears had subsided a bit. By dinnertime, he had mellowed out and was pretty much back to normal. Well, normal for him.
Felix knocked on our door to escort us to dinner. He was holding a big green lantern and an even bigger rifle.
“Whoa, there,” Jay said. “That’s quite a cannon you’ve got there, Felix. Do you know how to use that, big guy?”
Felix just grinned and nodded.
“Good,” Jay said.
The evening was crisp and clear, with a slight breeze. We followed Felix and his powerful light down the dusty path through the brush.
Our hut, No. 1, was closest to the camp entrance, and thus farther than any of the others from the dining lodge. After collecting us, Felix made a couple of stops to pick up others.
“Wait here for me in the main path while I bring these ladies,” he said. “It will only take a moment. Keep your flashlights on and do not go on ahead without me.”
“Don’t you worry about that, my friend,” Jay said, peering into the gloom. “We’re not moving without you. And tell those ladies to hurry their asses up.”
Jay was on his third 360, scanning the bushes, shining his flashlight like a beacon, when he saw it on the path just ahead.
A fresh leopard track. A big one.
And, just ahead of it, another, and another.
“Dear God,” he said. “That baby really is around here somewhere. FELIX!”
Felix came running, with Connie and Irene right behind him. He looked at the tracks, motioning for us to be still. Then he spoke quietly in what I think was Bantu into his radio. David had said that the local dialect was Bantu, though some spoke Xhosa and most also spoke Swahili. In seconds, two burly guards joined us on the path, shining their lights on the tracks.
“He has made a kill,” one of them said, pointing to dark drops in the sand. You could see where something heavy had been dragged along the edge of the path.
“Do not worry,” Felix said to us. “He will not be back. He will take his prize home to the limb of a tree. He will not hunt again until he has eaten and slept and is hungry once more.”
“Well, that’s okay, then, isn’t it? Perfect, just perfect,” said Jay. “Isn’t that just great? That particular leopard is not stalking us any more tonight because he has already grabbed his dinner. Woo-hoo, I’m so relieved! Now aren’t we having fun, out here in the dark with no fence around us, right smack in the middle of Africa? Move it, ladies, just get moving. Let’s get inside that dining hall quick, just in case that big guy has a buddy around here somewhere who hasn’t had his snack yet.”
* * *
Our first dinner exceeded all our expectations, with several courses of wild game, fish,
fresh vegetables, cheese, and delightful desserts, all accompanied by way too much of that delicious wine. We all applauded as Chef Willem was introduced along with his staff. Chef Willem, David said, had immigrated to South Africa from neighboring Zimbabwe.
“I understand that he had a rough go of it,” David said, “like so many others. Dreadful situation. Simply dreadful! He is a fine cook, though, I must say. Ripping good fortune for the camp to have got him. His cuisine is divine!”
I had to agree. The food really was delicious.
Even after—or maybe because of—the excitement on the path, everyone was full of conversation. The satisfying dinner and shared experiences helped create a mellow mood both during and after our meal.
We sat in deep leather chairs after dinner in front of the fire circle. Sipping coffee and the last of the wine, we laughed, told tales, and watched animals come to drink from the water hole. We swapped war stories, funny things that had happened in our jobs, but Jay really made them laugh when he explained why he thought we had been allowed to go on safari even after the fiasco of our last cruise.
“Sidney and I ran into a little trouble on our last trip out, see, so it was hard to understand why our boss, Mr. Silverstein, rewarded us with this luxury fam. Silverstein is not known for his generosity. Now, after seeing that leopard track, I know why. He wants to see if it’s safe before he sends his good clients here. If we make it back safe and sound, okay, fine, he can sell the trip. If we don’t make it back, well, that’s okay, too. We are the sacrifice.”
No one missed electronic entertainment at all. It was comfortable, telling stories and jokes before a fire with friends. Everyone seemed reluctant for the pleasant evening to end.
The lodge was open on one side, facing an infinity swimming pool. On the far end of the pool was the almost-dry river bed, which widened at that point to form a large watering hole.
Although the river held little water before the rains, a small amount remained in the muddy pool. Three wart hogs appeared at the far edge for a drink.
“Look at them,” said Connie. “Aren’t they cute? Look at their little tails twirling! I mean, they are so ugly they are cute.”
“They remind me of Dennis,” Jay said. “Something about the face. Do you think Dennis is so ugly he’s cute, Connie?”
“Now is that nice?” I said.
“No, but neither is Dennis,” George said.
“Actually,” said Connie, “they remind me of my second husband.”
“How many husbands have you had?” asked Rose.
“Three. The last one died six months ago. I’m looking for another.”
“Got anyone in mind?” said Fernando.
“No, darlin’, but I’m looking for a real old guy this time. A fella with a lot of money, no children, and a bad heart. If you see an old boy like that, you let me know.”
Fernando wouldn’t let it go. “So you’re marrying strictly for money, not love?”
“Oh, I’ll love him, all right. I’ll love him to death, Fernando. He’ll be my sweet patootie and die with a smile on his face.”
Everyone fell out laughing over that.
When we had recovered and could breathe again, Jay said, “Where is Dennis? He’s the only one missing from the group. I just realized that I haven’t seen him since we got here.”
“Who knows?” George said. “Who cares? I’m not asking, and I’m the lucky guy who gets to room with him. He wasn’t in the hut when we returned from the game drive, and he’s not here now. That’s great. Fine by me. I don’t care where he is or what he is doing. I hope he left.”
“Left?” Jay said, “How could he leave? By taxi? Riding an elephant? Someone from the lodge would have to take him. We would know if he left. They would tell us. Is his stuff still here?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, so is Dennis.”
“Maybe he’s not feeling well,” said Rose.
“He’s not sick,” George said. “If he was, he’d still be in the other bed in my hut. He’s gone off somewhere, on one of his weird rambles. He does it all the time. I hate Dennis.”
George was more than a little drunk.
“How could you hate Dennis, George?” Fernando asked. “You’ve only just met.”
“I can. I do. I truly, truly hate Dennis.”
George was trying to focus his eyes. His big red glasses slid down on his nose as he continued his impassioned speech, his voice rising. “I really hate Dennis. I hate what he says. I hate how he looks. I hate how he smells. When he’s awake he says obnoxious things. When he sleeps, he snores louder than any man you ever heard. I hate rooming with him.”
“But how do you really feel?” smiled Fernando.
“I hate you, too, Fernando, because you have a big room all to yourself.”
“Yeah, and right next to the spa, too,” Jay said. “How did you swing that, Fernando? I’m stuffed in with Sidney here.”
I gave him a look. He had been making little digs at me all evening, probably because I had laughed at his clothes. He acts like a child when his feelings are hurt and he always gets mad if I laugh at his outfits. It’s okay, of course, when he laughs at my clothes. But, outrageous as he looked in the Hemingway outfit, I really shouldn’t have made fun of him. I know all too well how important his image is to him. Jay had probably spent two week’s salary on the boots alone.
“My associate at the airline had to cancel at the last moment.” Fernando said smoothly, finishing his glass. “So I am lucky, eh? But I am not a selfish man. I will swap rooms with you, Jay. Want to trade beds?”
He gave me a lazy smile.
“I will,” George said.
“I didn’t ask you, George,” Fernando said. “I don’t want to sleep with Dennis. I want to sleep with Sidney.” He gave me a wicked grin as he rose and left the table.
“Is George sleeping with Dennis?” Connie asked.
“No!” George shouted.
Everyone shouted with laughter.
Just then, probably a good thing, David clapped his hands and announced that the escorts were ready to take us back to our huts. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. I’m afraid our delightful evening is drawing to a close. I had hoped to introduce you to the camp owner, Mr. van der Brugge, but something has undoubtedly delayed him. We will meet him another time. But tomorrow will be thrilling, what? A day of rare excitement, our first full day on safari. Morning will be here before you know it, darlings, so, ta-ta for now. Sweet dreams, my dears, and please be ready to leave promptly. I shall see you at dawn.”
Everyone rose and said goodnight, except George, who announced that he was not ready to leave and made his way unsteadily toward the bar. Chase, Rich, Connie, and Jay decided to follow him. Fernando had already left.
David looked a bit miffed at their disobedience. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his authority. “Those of you who would like to remain here for a quick nightcap may certainly do so if you choose. I don’t think Willem will be closing the bar for a bit. But for those who are ready to turn in, please come this way. The guards are here to escort you. Remember, I shall look forward to seeing each and every one of you bright and early in the morning. Bright and early! Right, then. Cheerio, and may I wish you all a very good evening.”
“Pip pip to you, too, David, old chap,” slurred George. “I’m not going anywhere. Drinks all round, Willem. I’m not turning in. It’s the shank of the evening.”
“I’m with George,” Jay said. “The night is young. Why are you shaking your head, Sid, and looking at me like a schoolteacher?”
“I just think I’m ready to go back to Hut No. 1, Jay. That’s all. I don’t care what you do. I’m ready to turn in. He’s right. The game drive begins early.”
“David is not my mother, and neither are you, Sidney. Did you know Fernando plays classical guitar? He went to get his guitar, and Chase and Rich and Connie and George here and I are going to crack open another bottle o
f wine and listen to him play it.”
“Fernando brought a guitar on safari?”
“Yep. So you just run along like a good little girl, you and Tilda and Wendy, and go to bed when you’re told. Nighty-night, party pooper, toodle-oo!”
“That’s right, sugar,” Connie said. “If you can’t run with the big dogs, you better stay on the porch.” They all laughed hysterically at that, and so I left. I wasn’t really in a huff, but I was tired, and I hate it when Jay shows off at my expense.
He had been in one of his moods all evening, taking cute little potshots at me and encouraging the others to join him. I had made him feel foolish in his new outfit and so he was taking revenge. He doesn’t do it often, but I’ve learned that when he does, the best thing to do is to get away from him for a while. By tomorrow, I knew, he would be remorseful and apologetic, trying to make up with me. I wouldn’t make that easy for him.
“All of the guards have already left to escort other guests,” Ronald told me at the door. “If you don’t mind waiting here for just a few moments, Miss, I will call one of them back to take you to your room.”
“That’s quite all right, Ronald,” said a deep voice behind me. “There is no need to call anyone. I will escort Miss Sidney Marsh to her quarters myself.”
And that is how I came to be walking slowly through the African night with the tall, dark stranger from the Mount Nelson garden and Table Mountain path, Mr. Henrik van der Brugge, owner of Leopard Dance.
Chapter 12
“Well, what do you think of South Africa, Sidney, now that you have left proper civilization behind in Cape Town?”
He took my arm and guided me down the steps and along the moonlit path.
My surprise at seeing him again and learning his identity had left me speechless.
“Is it as you expected?” he asked. “Do you like Leopard Dance?”
“I do, I really do. Very much. It is interesting, and so beautiful. I can see why you have chosen to live your life here.”
“Can you now?” he said, smiling, “I wonder. And how do you know how I live my life? You know nothing about me. We’ve only just met. Careful there, love, don’t trip.”