by Joan Rylen
“To the best friend a guy could have,” Pierre said.
“To the best kisser in all of Mexico,” Vivian said.
“To his interesting choice in shirts,” Wendy said.
“To the shots he bought us,” Lucy said.
“To our friend, who we will remember in our hearts always, Jon,” Kate said.
To lighten the mood, Lucy and Pierre re-created the church scene for their waitress. Lucy knelt in front of their table, using the carafe of coffee as the cross. The group had a good laugh at Lucy’s impersonation of Stella, but the waitress didn’t seem to get it.
“Lost in translation, maybe?” Pierre said and laughed.
Vivian had wanted to take a nap in the shade, out by the pool, but by the time they got back to the hotel, sleeping by the pool no longer sounded like the best idea. Her adrenaline was long gone and breakfast filled her to the rim. All she wanted was a comfy bed to crash in. On their way up to the room, Pierre asked Lucy if she’d like to join him in his room. She politely declined, but Vivian thought a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy super miniscule part of her was tempted.
Trashy.
They sleep for about five hours, got on their suits and zombie-walked to the beach, wanting to enjoy it on their last day of vacation. Manuel had loungers ready and double umbrella'd them since Vivian was so sunburned. He also brought them a round of complimentary Tiempo Loco tequila shots, including one for himself. He toasted to freedom and clinked glasses with each of them. Apparently he’d heard about Stella’s arrest. He gathered up the empties, stepped in front of them, shook his hips a little and gave them his version of “Jailhouse Rock.”
It was a doozy, and definitely woke Vivian up.
Wendy had ordered them a bucket-o-beer so they sat back and relaxed a bit after Manuel dropped it off, still humming.
“What are we going to do about our passports?” Vivian asked after a while, digging her feet into the sand.
“We may be headin’ over to the reporters and giving them a story of American hostages being held in Playa if we don’t hear somethin’ soon,” Wendy said.
“Hey look, there’s Arturo!” Lucy said, poppin’ out of her lounger. She ran over to greet him and walked back, her arm looped through his, looking pleased.
“He has our passports!” she announced.
“Yes, I do.” He reached into his pocket and handed the passports to Lucy. He then turned to Vivian, “I also brought these.” He held up and shook the red, fuzzy handcuffs Vivian had swiped from Shorty’s boat.
“Thought you might want these back.”
CHAPTER 64
VIVIAN SAT up in her beach lounger and snatched the red, feathered, fuzzy handcuffs out of Arturo’s hand with a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah, these are my new lucky cuffs.”
“Never know when you’ll need to make a late-night arrest,” he joked, sitting down on the end of Lucy’s lounger and gave Vivian a wink.
Now that I’m about to be single, never know, indeed.
“I thought I’d pass on that Stella is being arraigned on Friday,” Arturo said. “She gave another confession to Detective Vega, same story as the one in the church, and we found the murder weapon in her motel room.”
“How did she kill Jon exactly?” Vivian questioned.
“She sliced his jugular with a large, broken piece of shell. He didn’t stand a chance.”
Everyone was solemn and quiet for a moment.
Vivian looked out at the ocean, remembering how Jon had picked up a conch shell the night of their walk and given it to her. Little did either of them know he would be mortally wounded by such a thing only minutes later.
“So she just happened to find a murderous shell handy, at night, on the beach?” Wendy asked. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Not really,” Arturo said. “The inside of the shells gleam in the moonlight when they’re wet and some are very sharp. Here, I’ll show you.”
He walked down to the surf and came back holding several pieces of conch shell about the size of his hand. “See how jagged? And this one is almost like a razor.”
Kate grabbed it and lightly scratched her arm with it. “Ouch!” The broken piece of shell did more than leave a scratch, it drew blood.
“They can be very dangerous. People cut themselves accidentally with these all the time.”
“You’re sure this wasn’t premeditated?” Wendy asked.
“The evidence backs up her story. We have matched her fingerprint to the shell found in her motel room and though it was cleaned off, the DNA from the trace amounts of skin and blood still on it will match Jon’s. It’s a solid case.”
“So, she just randomly did this? She was only provoked because she saw Jon kissing Vivian?” Kate asked.
“We’ve been working on her background and Vega has spoken to law enforcement in Toronto, where she resides. A month ago she was arrested for stalking another celebrity, who had a restraining order against her. The police required psychiatric evaluation as she was violent and showed signs of delusion when they tried to apprehend her. The doctor diagnosed her as being schizophrenic and prescribed anti-psychotic medication. Being her first arrest, she was just given probation and released after time served. Judging by the full medication bottles in her motel room and her behavior down here, she most likely hasn’t been taking her meds.”
“Wow,” was all Vivian could say.
“Who was the other celebrity she stalked?” Lucy asked.
“A Canadian reality TV star. She was obsessed with the show and it was taken off the air. She decided to continue watching it in person, I guess.”
“Did Stella happen to be in Playa del Carmen, or was she stalking Jon, too?” Wendy asked.
“She claims she just happened to be down here, that she never stalked him. But we may never truly know.”
How sad. Jon was killed on accident by a fanatic who’s off her rocker, Vivian thought.
“Guess you have it wrapped up pretty tight,” Kate said.
“It appears so, which is why Detective Vega allowed me to bring your documents. We know how to reach you, should the need arise,” he said with a sly smile.
“Good Lord, I hope the need never arises!” Lucy exclaimed.
“Hey, what happened to Shorty?” Kate brought the back of her lounger up and asked.
“Yeah,” Vivian said. “Why was he arrested? What did he do?”
Arturo shook his head. “I can’t really talk about it but it involves a lot of money and smuggling. We don’t have evidence yet on his US counterpart, but Julio was trying to, uh, smuggle, uh, stuff out of Mexico and into the US.”
“See! I knew it! I knew he was up to no good!” Lucy said, pointing to Vivian with her beer.
“Stuff, huh?” Wendy interjected.
“We didn’t find any ‘stuff,’ large sums of money or anything else illegal on his boat,” Lucy said. “Darn! And we looked good, too!”
Arturo gave Lucy a stare, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“We all knew he was into something but he was still nice to us,” Vivian told him. “I wasn’t too worried about hanging out with him.”
“He was new to the trade and therefore, not as corrupt as others,” Arturo said, then finished with “yet.”
“Also not as competent, hence the arrest,” Wendy joked.
“What’s with Ponytail? He’s a cop right?” Vivian asked. “He was right behind Detective Vega in the raid at Shorty’s house.”
“If he’s a cop, then why did he chase us?” Kate asked matter-of-factly.
“Ahh, that’s another subject I can’t really talk about,” Arturo answered and looked at Vivian. “But don’t forget that you were the last person to see Jon alive. They needed to keep tabs on you. I volunteered for that assignment but was turned down,” he said with a grin.
He reached over to Kate and gave her a high-five. “Good driving, by the way.”
“Watch out NASCAR, here I come,” she said and laughed.
Vivian hesitated, but then asked anyway, “So what about Al and Adrienne Russo? Did anything happen to them last night?”
“Not that I heard. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” she replied a little too quickly.
Guess they made it back to Chicago.
“I have to get back, the media have descended upon the police station and I need to keep them in line,” Arturo informed them and stood up.
“If you’re ever in Dallas or Fort Worth, look me up,” Vivian said.
“Of course, and I hope you come back to our beautiful town again soon.”
Not sure how I feel about the “soon” part of that statement, she thought but said, “It is a gorgeous place, but I think I’ve seen enough of Playa del Carmen for a while.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Lucy said. “A dozen churches, countless hotels, the police station…”
“A nasty tattoo parlor,” Kate teased.
“Hey! That was in Cozumel, not Playa.” Lucy replied and then added, “And besides, I don’t have an infection.”
“Yet!” Wendy threw in.
Arturo laughed and took Vivian’s hand. He kissed it lightly and said, “Mucho gusto.” He kissed Kate, Lucy and Wendy’s hands, too and walked off with a wave.
“That first day of cleavage and flirting paid off,” Vivian said, watching him walk away.
“No kidding,” Wendy responded. “It was a good thing we had him on our side.”
The girls ordered another bucket-of-beer and relaxed in their loungers, shades on, and were quiet for a while. The sound of the surf and the seagulls had everyone veggin’ out.
Vivian dozed off and awoke a bit later to Pierre sitting on Lucy’s lounger, rubbing sunscreen on her back.
“My my,” she joked. “I see you have heeded your own advice and are reapplying.”
Lucy smiled. “It was time and the three of you were looking at the back of your eyelids.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You did great last night at the church, I mean, this morning,” Lucy said to Pierre.
“It was Vivian’s idea, and once I caught on, it just seemed like the thing to do. I knew we had to get her to confess,” he answered.
“Have you talked to Arturo yet today?” Wendy asked drowsily, still reclined in her lounger.
“Yeah, he came to see me a little while ago.”
“Look what I got back!” Vivian laughed and held up the red fuzzy handcuffs. “Do you guys need to borrow them?” She looked back and forth between Lucy and Pierre.
Lucy stood up and kicked sand at her, “No!” and ran off to the clear blue water.
Pierre watched her the whole way. “She’s something else.”
“That she is!”
“So what’s next for you? How long are you staying down here?” Kate asked.
“Jon’s parents are flying in tomorrow afternoon. There is a lot of paperwork and what-not they have to deal with to get Jon home.”
Vivian sighed. “Yeah, that’s going to be rough for them. It’s good you are here to help.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “We got our passports back and are leaving tomorrow. I do wish we could be here to help you with all of that.”
“Thanks Vivian, but I understand you have to leave. In fact, I’m surprised you weren’t on the first flight you could catch.”
“We all needed this one last day at the beach to relax. A vacation, so to speak, from our crazy vacation,” she smiled at him.
“So what are you guys doing for your last night?” he asked.
“You’re lookin’ at it,” Wendy said and clinked beer bottles with Kate.
“Want to join us?” Kate asked. “We don’t even plan to leave the hotel.”
“Funny, now that you have the freedom to leave, you don’t want to,” he said.
“That’s the important thing about freedom — choices,” Vivian said and took the last swig. “And right now, I choose to sit here and drink another beer.”
Lucy bounded back up the beach, shaking her wet hands at them. “You guys look like you need some cheering up. Let’s do a shot!”
The Lucy answer to everything on this vacation. She really wasn’t like this in her typical, everyday life.
She flagged Manuel and he turned the shots around quickly.
The five of them raised their glasses.
This time Vivian offered a short, sweet toast.
“To Jon.”
CHAPTER 65
Day 7- Adiós
VIVIAN WATCHED the conveyor belt as the baggage handlers rhythmically loaded it. From her window seat she thought she saw her mega bag at the bottom of the pile. She leaned her forehead on the glass and kept watching. Yep, that was it. The baggage handler had to use both hands to lug it across, and looked pretty pissed doing it.
Sorry.
Now that it was on its way up, she dug around her seatback pocket for the barf bag. She didn’t think she was going to lose it, but it did double nicely as a fan. The lady next to her gave an apprehensive look.
Vivian leaned her head back and started thinking about what awaited her at home.
Four beautiful kiddos.
A decent house.
A mom-mobile.
A meaningful job.
A 92 page document entitled “divorce decree.”
Damn.
Her phone chirped, signaling she had a text message.
Just checkin on u girls. We r home. Heard on news that Stella wuz it.
Knew it! Keep in touch. Love ya, A.
Vivian smiled and turned off her phone. Good to hear for sure that Al and Adrienne made it home okay. She liked them both though she wondered what Al was up to and how much Adrienne knew. She didn’t care enough to let it get in the way of their friendship.
She looked up to see a familiar face. Birthday-kiss Pasqual. He saw her immediately and flashed his pearly white smile.
Wow, he’s tan.
She gave him a wave.
She thought he was about to pass up her aisle when he stopped and looked at the lady next to her. He asked if she minded switching spots with him. She looked at Vivian holding the barf bag, then jumped at the opportunity, throwing her seatbelt into Vivian’s lap.
He reached up to put his bag in the overhead compartment which made his shirt lift up and his shorts go down…just enough to see a nice little bit of tummy and a beautiful tan line. At least an eight on the pale scale.
Mmmmmmmmm. He’s “Bringin’ Sexy Back.”
Vivian stuffed her barf bag back into the seat pocket, hoping he hadn’t seen her fanning herself with it. If he did, he didn’t show it. He smiled as he sat down next to her and reached for the stray half of his seatbelt.
She tingled all over as his hand grazed her thigh. Oh yeah, it’s time to move on.
He looked at her with his deep blue eyes. “I’ve always wanted to see Texas.”
She gave him a smile.
I’ll show him the very best of Texas.
Yeeeeehhhhhhaaaaaaw!
Angela’s post-tequila lime smile
The tequila shot that inspired another shot that inspired a beer bucket on the head
Johnell’s big catch
Giant sombreros in the Mexican market
“Here’s to a vacation of no regrets!”
Noon on a Wednesday – yeah, baby!
Acknowledgments
We want to thank Angela Wenk and Lea Rogers for their friendship and inspiring book fodder. Cheers to the original Getaway Girlz, clink!
Thank you to our other Getaway Girlz…y’all know who you are! We wouldn’t have shi-tah-tay, choot ’em, backseat bars or many, many other hilarious things without you. “It is our pleasure” to thank you for traveling with us so we can be inspired by the crazy adventures. We heart you all.
Special thanks to Janet Neff not only for her friendship, but also for her enthusiasm and never-ending support. Now go write YOUR book!
Thanks to Josh Weathers for the use of his sweet serenad
es. We know you’ll go far!
We want to thank Dana Isaacson with Random House for his insight and commentary, John Dycus for making us better writers, the DFW Writer’s Workshop for listening to us read every week and offering constructive feedback, Susan Breen with the Algonkian NYC Pitch and Shop conference for guiding us and always answering our questions, Cherry Weiner for her advice, and the Writer’s Unboxed Facebook community – what a great bunch of writers.
We would also like to thank the following people who helped make this happen with their skills and services:
Lea Rogers, cover design – Angela Wenk, logo design and photo editing – Reid Hobdy, promoter extraordinaire – Bill Preston, photography – Studios by the Ferry, videography – Marni Getchell, web design – Naresh Rambaran, initial web design and hosting – Erin Cox, photo editing – Lauren Mahoney, the Playa del Carmen “dead guy” model, Steve Frechette, another “dead guy” model – Paula LaRocque, for the initial read and commentary – Jackie Meeks for final book edits – Kelli Fitch, beta reader – John Howard, FW Promotions – Luis Estrada, video ideas – Frankie’s Sports Bar and Grill wait staff for the keeping us well served in drinks and munchies. Y’all rock!
We’ve been working on this for a while and so many people have cheered us along our way. We know we’re forgetting people. We’ll get you in Rocky Mountain Mayhem.
Thank y’all!
Johnell would like to thank…
Thanks to my kiddos for being wonderful, smart, funny, creative and respectful (usually!). And for understanding when mom has to go on her “girl” trips! Or sing and dance in the car. Or embarrass you in the school cafeteria. I hate to tell you, but it never ends. Love ya! Thanks to my parental units. I’ll only write about you when necessary. Promise. Thanks to my “real job” for letting me be loud and supporting me through the chaos. I know we already said thank you to our friends, but I can’t express enough gratitude for all of you who helped me in my time of “transition.” It was ugly, but y’all helped make my world pretty again.