by Eric Douglas
Chapter 2
The jukebox in the corner thumped out a country tune that Jackson Pauley barely heard and cared about even less. He was hungry. He wanted his food and he wanted to go home. Even though he had successfully avoided the local TV reporter who had questions about his actions on board the dive boat, he had still spent the day talking to police, the US Coast Guard and other authorities. He also had to write up an incident report for his dive training agency’s insurance company. The dive center he worked for was covered by liability insurance and they had to make sure everything was in writing in case someone decided to sue. It wasn’t unheard of that a business had been sued right out of existence for doing nothing more than trying to help someone in trouble. Jackson didn’t think they had done anything wrong, and he heard the woman was doing just fine, but he still had to make sure all bases – and his butt – were covered.
In the excitement at the dock, he had also missed out on getting tipped by the divers and he had had to skip the second trip the fill out his paperwork. While he was paid by the dive center, it wasn’t much. The tips helped out quite a bit. Not that Jackson really needed it. He had a pension from New York City for his time as a firefighter, but he tried to stay away from that money and lived on his earnings as a dive instructor. Understandably, he wasn’t getting rich, but neither his lifestyle nor his outlook indicated that was a problem.
Jackson stood at one end of the bar waiting on the waitress to bring his burger and fries out of the kitchen. His eyes scanned the neon beer signs and the mirrors that adorned the walls. It could have been any small town bar anywhere in the country. At least the view outside was nice, Jackson thought.
And the view outside the bar was nice. It faced out onto the main harbor on Withrow Key. It wrapped around a sleepy marina with dozens of boats owned by locals and travelers alike. Some saw daily duty on the water, others didn’t appear as if they had been moved in years. The sun was setting across the water and it bathed everything in a beautiful orange glow.
Walking outside with his food in hand, Jackson placed a hat on his head to cover up his distinctive sand-colored hair – just in case someone was still looking for him – and began walking across the gravel parking lot under the half-bright illumination of the pole-mounted lights. He almost made it to his worn out Jeep Cherokee when he saw something he didn’t like. There were three men harassing a woman. Jackson had hated bullies since he was a kid. He had knocked down more than his fair share over the years. And never, never did he allow a man to mistreat a woman in his presence. Call it his sense of chivalry or whatever. It didn’t matter to Jackson. He just knew he didn’t like it.
He tossed his sandwich into the open window of his jeep and walked toward the three men. He drew near just as one of the men grabbed the woman by the arm and turned her around roughly. He could see the woman was scared. And that was all it took.
“I think you three need to leave the lady alone,” Jackson said, loud enough to be heard, but without raising his voice.
“Just who do you think you are?” one of the three said as he whirled around on Jackson.
“Doesn’t matter who I am,” Jackson responded, still quiet. “I said you need to leave the lady alone.”
“Maybe the lady wants to be with us,” the second man said.
“No, I don’t,” Andrea Perez shouted.
“Sounds like the lady is tired of your company,” Jackson continued.
“What’re you going to do about it?” the biggest of the three asked, moving menacingly toward Jackson. “There’s only one of you and three of us. What’re you going to do about it?”
“If you three leave and leave the lady alone, absolutely nothing. If you don’t, then I’ll do whatever you make me do,” Jackson replied, still calm, but bracing himself for action.
The men were confused by Jackson’s calm demeanor. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t threatening. He was simply calm and speaking matter-of-factly. What the would-be attackers didn’t know was that Jackson had learned to fight growing up on the streets of the Bronx. Then, in the Navy, he had learned to channel his natural talents into boxing where he had successfully represented his ship in more than 40 bouts. He had continued boxing as an amateur in a league sponsored by the NY City Fire Department. While he hadn’t stepped into the ring since just before September 11, he had kept himself in shape, working on a speed bag and heavy bag at home on his house boat, running and exercising – not to mention swimming and diving nearly every day.
This situation, fighting three at once, harked back more to his days on the streets than in the ring, but it all came together nicely.
The first man charged at Jackson, trying to catch him off-guard. But Jackson was looking out for just such a move. He quickly side-stepped the larger man, and triple-tapped him as he passed, in the stomach, kidneys and ribs. With a loud oaf, the man hit his knees and tried to inhale, but found he couldn’t.
The second man approached Jackson more warily, but with the same result. Stepping inside of the man’s wild swings, Jackson went straight to the body and doubled the man over, quickly. Jackson had no intention of doing any serious harm, or even drawing blood for that matter. He didn’t want this situation to get out of hand. He simply wanted to discourage the men from harassing the woman.
As the last man saw his second accomplice hit the ground and fall onto his side, curled up in a ball, he let go of Andrea and began circling in toward Jackson. The two men moved cautiously. The attacker had just seen Jackson take out his two friends and neither of them had even landed a blow. He wasn’t sure how to deal with the smaller man, but he knew better than to rush in. The attacker towered over Jackson’s 5’11”, 175 pound frame, but he was still concerned.
Jackson was in a boxing crouch, preparing himself for the attack when suddenly he stopped, stood straight up and laughed.
“What do you think’s so funny?”
“You’re so worried about me, but you forgot about the other person in this fight,” Jackson said.
“What other person?” the man asked as he glanced quickly to his right and left.
Andrea didn’t go away when the man released her. She just stepped out of the way. Now she stood directly behind the last of the remaining attackers. With a swift kick, putting all of her energy and every ounce of her 110 pound frame into it, she launched a 50-yard field goal and dropped the man to his knees. He was unconscious before his head hit the ground. Jackson knew he was still alive, however, because even unconscious, he continued to groan in pain.
“Certainly looks like you can take care of yourself,” Jackson said with an admiring grin as he turned to go.
“What’s your name? I want to thank you for helping out,” Andrea called after him.
“It’s Jackson, but you don’t owe me anything, so don’t worry about it. I’d just suggest you stay away from places that get you in trouble,” Jackson continued as he opened the door to his jeep and slid inside.
“Look, I don’t know what you think I was doing, but I was just looking for someone with a boat to take me out somewhere when those three goons started harassing me. I hadn’t even gone in the bar. I was on the dock out front,” Andrea continued.
“Well I don’t know what was up, but I’d still suggest taking off before those three get vertical again,” Jackson said as he mentally reviewed the people inside the bar and was forced to concede that he hadn’t seen her inside. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I have my own car, over there,” Andrea said, gesturing across the parking lot, toward the main entrance of the pier.
“Well then, I’ll see you around. I’ve had a busy day today and it starts early again in the morning. I’ve got another group of tourists to take diving at 8 a.m. so I need to go home and get some rest,” Jackson said.
“So you’re a dive guide around here?” Andrea asked, hopeful that she had found someone to help her. She was holding onto the door of the jeep and talking to Jackson t
hrough the window.
“I’m a dive instructor, but not much call to teach. Mostly just leading dives for visiting divers,” Jackson replied. “I work with one of the bigger operations. I’ve got my own boat tied up at the dock, but don’t get much chance to go out and dive like I’d like to. Too busy working.”
Jackson wasn’t sure why he was talking so much to this woman. He hadn’t opened up to anyone in a long time, especially a stranger he met in the parking lot a few minutes before.
“Look miss, um?” Jackson hinted, as he really looked at her for the first time and realized she was attractive.
“The name is Andrea.”
“Well look, Andrea, I really do need to go now. As I said earlier, I suggest you get out of here and fast. Those guys look like they’re stirring a bit,” Jackson said as he keyed the ignition on his jeep and turned it over. “I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will, Jackson,” Andrea called after him as he pulled out.