by Ken Douglas
“ It’s not like you’re thinking,” Broxton said.
“ I’m hearing you good,” Davidnen said. “Keep talking.”
“ It’s about a woman.”
“ Ah,” the old man sighed, then twinkled, “which one?”
“ Dani Street.”
“ And why are you wanting to know about her?” the Indian asked, his eyes narrowing.
“ I came to Trinidad to marry her,” Broxton said.
“ I see, so it’s Kevin Underfield you’re wanting to know about?”
“ Yes, no, I don’t know. I was just going to sit here and watch her come to work, that’s all.” He was talking like a man wearing his heart on his sleeve and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.
The Indian put a hand up and played with his mustache as he studied Broxton. After a moment he said, “You should have come sooner if that’s what you’re after.” And the room was quiet save for the sound of the Indian sucking on his upper lip as he tried to reach his mustache with his teeth.
“ There were problems,” Broxton said, continuing to confide in a man he didn’t know.
“ Yes, for sure, you married the wrong woman, Mr. Broxton.”
“ How do you know my name, and how do you know about me?” Broxton asked.
“ We talk, me and Dani. We’re good friends. She eats here every day, most of the other Americans from the Embassy don’t. They go to Rafter’s or one of the finer restaurants. I guess they don’t much like the local food.”
“ Is he a nice guy, this Kevin Underfield?”
“ Not so nice, I don’t think,” the Indian said.
“ What do you mean?”
“ I think I’ve said enough, but Dani says you work for the DEA, you’ll be able to figure it out.” He paused and ran his tongue over his mustache, like he was checking to see if it was still there, then said, “And as we speak of the devil, he arrives.”
Broxton turned back toward the window again in time to see Dani kiss Kevin Underfield firmly on the lips. Then she turned and walked into the Embassy and Underfield started off down the block. He was wearing a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, sweatpants and running shoes. He looked like a Nike commercial, with his poster boy good looks and strong athletic build.
“ I think I’ll go,” Broxton said, thinking that Dani must place a lot of trust in this old man. She even told him that he worked for the DEA.
“ That would be wise, and remember one thing.”
“ What’s that?”
“ I wasn’t telling you anything here. For myself I don’t care, but I have children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, them I care about. Trinidad is a small place.”
“ I wasn’t even here,” Broxton said, starting for the door.
“ And we never met.” The Indian winked.
Broxton closed the door behind himself and started off after Underfield. It was a cool morning, promising to be a hot day, and Kevin Underfield was walking at a brisk pace with the morning sun at his back. That was an advantage for Broxton. If Underfield looked behind he’d be staring into the light.
He half wondered why he was following the man. He also wondered why he showed up at the Embassy and hid in the small restaurant across the street. It didn’t seem right, snooping around after Dani. They’d been friends since they were children. If he wanted to know about her relationship with Kevin Underfield all he had to do was ask. But there was something about Underfield he didn’t like. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d stolen Dani’s heart, but maybe it was something more.
Underfield stopped, waved, and met a cafe au lait colored woman with a drop dead gorgeous face wearing black Danskins that hugged her curves like the white line hugs the center of the highway. Just the sight of her set Broxton’s heart pumping. Like Underfield, she was wearing running shoes. It took Broxton less than a second to figure out that they’d be coming back his way, because they were probably going to the Savannah to run. He looked left, then right, then dashed between a small auto parts store and a bakery three doors back, toward the embassy.
They jogged by seconds later and Broxton let them get down the block before leaving his hiding place and going after them. Two blocks brought them to the ring road around the Savannah. He watched while they crossed it and turned left. From where he stood it was about three quarters of a mile across the large park. He guessed that it would take them longer to jog the two miles around it to get to the spot where he’d be if he kept straight on at a brisk walk.
Twenty minutes later he was sitting on a bench, looking up the hill across the street at the Hilton Hotel as the pair came jogging toward him, but they didn’t pass, instead they turned left, crossed the ring road, and continued jogging on up toward the hotel.
“ Shit,” he muttered as he pushed himself up from the bench. He’d been so sure that they’d jog on by without noticing him, but then he felt the morning sun on his shaved head and he knew that Underfield would have pegged him right away.
He started to cross the street when he saw a group of young people headed his way. They looked like they were between fifteen and seventeen, four boys and three girls. One of the boys was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. He sat back down on the bench and waited for them to approach.
“ Wanna sell the Yankees cap?” he said when the group was within hearing distance.
“ Not really,” the boy said.
“ Fifty US, right now,” Broxton said.
“ It’s yours.” The boy tossed Broxton the cap. Broxton reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“ You’re crazy, right?” one of the girls said.
“ No, I just like the Yankees.” Broxton handed the kid a fifty.
“ I like ’em, too,” the kid said.
“ Yeah, about fifty bucks US worth,” another one of the girls said and they all laughed and continued on their way.
Broxton set the cap on his head, looked both ways, remembering that they drove on the opposite side of the street in Trinidad. Then he crossed and started toward the path that led up to the hotel. His underarms felt like Velcro as they attempted to stick to his skin with each stride. He tried holding them straight, without swinging them, but it was no use.
They were out of sight, but that didn’t worry him. They’d probably gone to the restaurant for a quick bite to eat or a cold drink. It didn’t dawn on him that they might be in one of the many rooms till he entered the lobby.
He pulled off the cap and looked around. He headed toward the restaurant, glanced in and didn’t see them, then he put the cap back on and started toward the front desk, ready to pay for information from the desk clerk, when he saw the girl’s picture encased in glass on the wall outside the restaurant.
She was wearing a skintight, hip hugging formal in the black and white photo, and she looked like a glamour queen. The caption on the poster read, ‘Stormy sings the blues live at the Hilton every Sunday night.’ Stormy. Broxton wondered what her real name was. He knew he couldn’t go to the front desk and ask about her. Any questions he asked, no matter how much he paid, would be repeated back to her and he didn’t want that. So he turned back toward the restaurant, went in and took a seat by the back wall, facing the door.
Thirty minutes later, as he was finishing his ham and eggs, she stopped by the front of the restaurant wearing tight Levi’s and a pale pink, loose fitting silk blouse. She was beauty personified, she could make old men quiver and young men swoon. Broxton was neither young nor old though, so he raised his hand to get her attention, but he dropped it as quickly as he’d put it up when Kevin Underfield came into view wearing a beige suit and tie.
Not the running sweats he’d come in with, Broxton thought. He watched as Underfield gave her a slight kiss on the lips and he looked away when the man roamed his eyes around the room. He turned his head back as Underfield patted her on the rear, before turning and walking through the lobby and out the front door. Then he raised his hand again as she entered the restaurant.
She saw his waving hand, caught his eyes and started toward his table. He stood as she approached. She was stunning and each step she took stole more of his breath away. Her deep brown eyes were clear as windows and they seemed to be laughing, and her perfect teeth, gleaming from her smile, seemed to light up the room.
“ You look better without the hat,” she said, as she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
Broxton sat and stared.
“ Come on, put your eyes back in your head. I’m good looking, but I’m not that good looking.”
“ You’re for sure the prettiest woman that’s ever sat down at a table with me,” Broxton said, meaning it.
“ You’ve been following me,” she said. “Why?”
“ Not you. Him,” Broxton said. He reached up and jerked the hat off his head.
“ Your hands are shaking. Are you nervous?” she asked.
He held his right hand out in front of himself for a few seconds and watched it. It was indeed quivering slightly. “It must be you,” he said. “Do you always have this effect on men?”
“ I hope so,” she said. “Now why are you following him?”
“ You wanna go see Tammy Drake at the Normandy tonight?” he asked. “It’s a special show for the diplomatic corps. I’ve got a couple of tickets.” Warren had given him the tickets because the prime minister was supposed to be at the dinner concert. He’d planned on asking Maria during lunch, but the woman sitting across from him shot out an aura of sex and danger that tingled his spine and set his feet to tapping under the table. He couldn’t help himself, something about her just reached out and grabbed at him, tugging at all the right places.
“ Maybe. You’re kind of exciting, but first why were you following Kevin?”
“ I came to Trinidad planning to ask Dani Street to marry me,” he said, “but when I get here I find she’s engaged to somebody else. I’m curious about him, and I have to admit, I’m curious about him and you.”
“ That’s it? That’s all? You’re only interested in him because of Dani? Nothing else?”
“ Isn’t that enough?” he said.
“ I’d love to go with you,” she said, “but you know Kevin is going to be there with Dani.”
“ I know,” Broxton said.
“ I’ll meet you here. Tonight at eight. At this table,” she said. Then she stood, and in a second was gone.
Broxton sat for a few minutes, musing over his strange morning. He thought about Dani and he thought about Maria. He was in love with the former and beginning to care about the latter. There wasn’t any room in his life for a woman named Stormy who sang the blues. He told himself he was only going out with her to find out about Kevin Underfield, but even as he finished the telling he knew it was a lie.
He raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention, then made the international sign for asking for the check by holding one hand flat and pretending to scribble on it with the other. He accepted a knowing smile from the young man, left a generous tip and made his way out of the restaurant. Most of the staff watched him as he left and his waiter flashed him the thumbs up sign. It took him a few seconds, but it finally dawned on him. They all knew Stormy. They were giving him the recognition young men give other young men when they think they’ve scored with a beautiful woman. He shook his head and left.
As he passed the house phones he thought about calling and inviting Maria to lunch, but he didn’t want to have lunch with one woman while he was thinking about dinner with another.
Eleven hours later Broxton drove a rented Nissan Sentra into the parking lot of the Normandy Hotel, and although it was only a few minutes drive from the Hilton, Broxton felt he knew Stormy’s life story. She had been talking nonstop the whole way. She managed to tell Broxton that she was twenty-five years old, her name really was Stormy, she was born in Port of Spain just after all the lights went out because of a tropical storm. She had a younger sister, Jenna, and a brother, Gary, living in Canada. She had been singing since she was a little girl. Tammy Drake was her idol and the two women were very good friends. But about Kevin Underfield, not a word.
He parked the car and went around to the passenger side to open the door for her, but she was out of the car before he made it around. “What a lovely night,” she said and she inhaled deeply. She was standing under a light that wasn’t doing a very good job of illuminating the parking lot, but it was doing a superb job of illuminating her. The soft light reflected off her bare shoulders and winked through her long hair, giving her an angelic halo that contrasted greatly with the devilish look in her shining eyes.
“ Before we go in,” she said, “I just want you to know that Kevin and I were an item a while ago, but we went our separate ways. Today at the hotel was sort of a test. We both needed to see how it would go. It didn’t. It’s over now, we both know it. I think we both knew it before we started, but we had to give it one last try just to make sure that none of that old flame was still there. It wasn’t. It’s gone. What we did is nothing to get excited about and Dani never has to know about it. It would only hurt her.”
Broxton nodded, but he thought what they did was wrong. If Kevin was really in love with Dani he didn’t need to test himself by sleeping with another woman. But he held his tongue. He didn’t want to argue with her.
“ Let’s go in,” he said, and she took him by the arm and allowed him to lead her into the restaurant. They were late and Tammy Drake was already on stage, singing a slow ballad. There were people on the dance floor and tables off to the right and outside on the large balcony.
“ Isn’t she beautiful,” Stormy said.
“ She is,” Broxton said back, “but she can’t light a candle next to you.”
“ That’s nice of you to say, but she’s an international star. She sings all over the world. Everybody knows who she is. I’m barely noticed outside of Port of Spain.”
“ Let’s find a table,” he said.
“ No, let’s dance first.” She lead him onto the dance floor, where they spent the next forty-five minutes slow dancing to a string of ballads. Every dance brought her a little closer until they moved as one. Tammy’s voice and Stormy’s lithe body pressing against his combined to make Broxton feel like they were alone on the dance floor. He was a teenager again, biting his lip to control an erection. He wanted her badly and he sensed that she wanted him.
Then the last ballad was over and the lights went on. People started returning to their tables. He was fantasizing about what he could be doing with Stormy afterwards when he was shocked out of his reverie by Dani’s glaring stare.
“ How could you?” she said, through tight lips.
“ What?” he said.
“ Her,” Dani said. Her face was red and her nostrils were flaring. For a second he thought she was going to slap him, but she turned on her heels and started for the door. He looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed and he locked eyes with Kevin Underfield. The man smiled, then saluted him with a loose hand, before turning and following his fiance out the door and Broxton knew he’d been set up.
He turned toward Stormy, “Why?” he said.
“ She hates me. Kevin wanted to make sure you were no threat.”
“ I could tell her.”
“ Tell her what? You’re the one that invited me tonight, remember?” she said, then she stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek. “I guess I’ll go too. Don’t worry about getting me home, my car’s in the lot.”
Chapter Twelve
Broxton woke with a hangover and a picture of the fire in Dani’s eyes burning through the pain in his head. He’d lost her again, and again he blamed himself. He ran his hand over his scalp and down the back of his neck, wiping the sweat off. It had been a hot night and the fan overhead did little more than stir the hot air.
He stumbled out of a hard bed, regretting the bottle of Scotch he’d bought, before checking into the hotel. He’d drunk himself into a stupor and now a hangover kept h
is broken heart company.
He studied the bags under his eyes in the bathroom mirror, splashed some water on his stubble covered face. He wished he had something to shave with. He wished he hadn’t slept in his clothes, and he wished he had gone back to Warren’s mansion, instead of spending the night with a bottle of Scotch.
He sighed, dropped his clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower with his mouth turned into the spray, soaking up the water into his dehydrated system. After he’d satisfied his thirst, he turned the heat up and let the hot water cascade down his back, soothing the aches and pains caused by his trek along the river and through the drain pipe. If he could have his way he’d stay forever under the spray, but sometimes you just have to face the music. He shut off the water, toweled off and got back into his rumpled clothes. Then he went to the phone and called Warren’s. Dani answered on the first ring.
“ It’s me,” Broxton said.
“ It’s amazing,” she said. “You’re the only man in the world who could ever get me to act like that. How come that is?”
“ Just my lovable good nature,” he said, relieved that she wasn’t still angry. Maybe there was hope yet.
“ How come you brought that slut to the concert?” Dani asked.
“ Slut’s a little strong.”
“ You’re right. I’m sorry. She used to date Kevin. We don’t get along.”
“ No kidding, you could have fooled me.”
“ How’d you meet her?”
For a second he debated not telling her, but he’d never lied to her before and he wasn’t going to start now. He also wasn’t about to tell her that her fiance was sleeping with his old flame. He decided to hedge. “I saw her poster up at the Hilton, just before I saw her. The restaurant was full. I asked her to join me. Then I asked her out. She said yes, no big deal.”
“ So you brought a date to a function you knew I was going to be at?”
“ Why not? You brought one.”
“ Oh shit, you’re right,” she said. “It’s none of my business. Did you have a good time after I left?”