“He rolled it for you?”
“He rolled a bunch for his group’s last binge and gave me this leftover one as a starter—plus a baggie with the rest of the buds and some rolling papers. It’s all stashed safely back in my room, triple-bagged to keep the smell in check.” He produces a lighter and lights up the large end as Sheryl watches in amazement.
She admits, “I’m thinking of numerous other times I’ve passed on such opportunities.”
Between a couple starter puffs, Sterling says, “That all was to save it for here and now with me, bathed in the incredible ambience of a Jamaican beach on a night like this.”
“Little did I know.”
Sterling coughs on his third puff. Instead of being annoyed at the cough, he’s quite amused, even as the hack repeats itself a couple more times. Shaking it off, he draws a long, smooth drag on the glowing spliff, and after gagging nasally, he holds his breath to retain the smoke. He silently holds out the spliff, passing the torch to Sheryl. She hesitates to take the joint from his outstretched hand and looks confused. Sterling continues to hold his breath, screws up his eyes at her, and waves the spliff in front of her face.
Sheryl takes the spliff and stares at it from stem to burning stern.
Sterling exhales. Feeling dizzy, he lies back in seeming slow motion against the sand, staring up at coconuts. “Wow. I’m telling you, babe, this is awesome stuff.”
“Babe?” she echoes with humor. “That’s a first.” She seems to like the term of endearment and takes a very cautious puff, letting it out faster than she drew it inside.
“That’s it?” he teases. “You can do better than that!”
“We’ll see.” This time she takes a purposefully slow drag.
“That a girl!” exclaims an encouraging Sterling.
She exhales and then repeats another long, deliberate inhalation. Her deep puff produces a slight hiccup of a cough, which she stifles through pursed lips and oral recoil just as she saw Sterling do. She toughs it out and holds her breath. He, in turn, gets excited watching her antics and light-headedly takes back the spliff as it dangles from her hand. Their eyes connect as he tokes.
Sheryl, exhaling again, breathlessly observes, “Wow is right.” Appearing dizzy, she adds, “This sure must be good stuff.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Sterling concurs, which cracks up the both of them.
“Strangely,” she adds, “I’m finding the aroma is becoming familiar, more tolerable,” and this cracks them up even more. Everything is funny as they look about the beach under moonlight from heaven above.
They get halfway through the spliff before Sterling stubs it out in the sand. “That’s about enough for me,” he admits.
“I guess I’m okay because I wouldn’t know any better.”
“Well said.”
Snickering, they sit back together under the coconut tree to take in the night’s sights and sounds. Gentle wave action lulls them into total repose. Before long, they are kissing.
Privately, Sterling thinks, How well is this working?
The answer becomes plain as their passion grows. Sheryl suggests, “Why don’t we go back to my room?”
“Indeed, why don’t we? Let’s go.”
Sterling congratulates himself for bringing her down this road.
Once back in Sheryl’s room, Sterling sticks true to his action plan for the night; for the first time, he avoids the forced 4:00 a.m. march back to his own digs. Neither looks at the clock as she succumbs to his penetration quest. It leaves her wanting more.
“Freeze this moment forever,” she says dreamily as they cool off under a sheet.
The next morning brings a change of heart. Sheryl awakens with wracking guilt over having given it all away, compounded by fears from realizing they took no pregnancy precautions during their lovemaking, or any kind of precautions at all, not that she keeps anything handy or that he even bothered to bring up the subject.
Sterling’s snoring brings her focus to him next to her in bed, an unfamiliar sight with the sun breaking in through her blinds. Oh well, she thinks as she guiltily reflects upon the night, here’s the new reality. Done deal, virginity gone—no time for regrets.
She stretches out against her pillow, eyes locked on the whirling ceiling fan, and a sudden joy comes over her, joy that now, she guesses, she is finally a full-fledged woman. Abruptly, she realizes that some buzz remains from that ganja, and she quietly giggles. A myriad of thoughts flash through her head, darting here and there from throughout her lifetime. These thoughts settle quickly into a rhythmic montage of images from the previous night.
“Wow,” she exclaims, waking Sterling.
“What?” he mumbles, stirring and reaching out with an arm to pull her close.
“Nothing, dear,” she gently answers, with no desire to arouse him further. Preferring solitude with her thoughts, she coaxes, “Go back to sleep.” Thankfully, he does.
When this day’s overnight hours come around, though, Sheryl, having refused Sterling’s early-evening pitch for a walk to their favorite coconut palm down the beach, insists on propriety again—or at least the appearance of it, since later that morning will be the start-up of another tour’s arrival. She wants nothing of their cuddly No Worries togetherness getting back to Kearns.
Kearns is no prude, but he is known to highly frown on romantic entanglements among his employees. She fears career repercussions if he hears about her breach of company protocol—and with a part-timer at that. The thought also crosses her mind that Kearns, a native southerner, might have prejudicial thoughts about her being intimate with a black man. She has even angered herself for having such thoughts. But you never know, right? she thinks as she speculates on Kearns’s stance about any of this.
This train of thought sparks soul-searching and examinations of her own dark corners of thought. She can’t help but wonder what the general reception would be if she were openly in a mixed-race relationship. Further, what would it be like to have biracial children? If ever there was a time for traditional taboos falling by the wayside, she reasons, it’s now. Yet her alter ego asks, Correct? for confirmation.
That’s a question she has no time for now. All she knows, when push comes to shove, is that she feels herself falling hard for Sterling. This is real-life drama for her, him being her first full-fledged lover and all.
They continue growing closer both on the job and in the bedroom. The Jamaican spirit embodied in the resort’s No Worries theme rules the days and the nights. Her one ganja experience seems to have altered her center of gravity for a considerable while.
One night she declares to Sterling, “I’ve never felt such a sense of calm,” forgetting many other similar calms after Bible study classes elsewhere in time.
“Same here,” he quickly agrees.
She takes him at his word in every topic of conversation. One topic suddenly brings up a new story of a business venture that Sterling is spearheading with his cousins. They’re moving ahead with, he says, a long-planned clothing company—a can’t-miss designer label with hot early reviews. The next thing she hears is him talking about a “ground-floor opportunity” that he can offer her—“if,” he says, downplaying the pitch, “you were to be interested.”
Sheryl was raised to be wary of schemers, so she strings him along for a few weeks on the investment talk with a polite show of interest as caution alarms ring in her head. Her wariness is not so much due to any mistrust of Sterling, whom she’s more drawn to every passing delightful day; his cousins’ involvement is what concerns her most about the alleged opportunity. The topic remains in the background, though, as they direct tours while discreetly flirting with each other on the job.
As the final tour nears completion, Sheryl takes a call from Kearns. He’s opening a second office in Florida and wonders if she’d be interested in managing the place. The
surprise chance to move out of the field and into an office catches her flat-footed. It’s a dream offer, or it certainly could be, because even this early in her career, she occasionally wonders how long she can continue living out of a suitcase. She’s seen many older tour directors drag through their paces, barely able to hide their loss of love for the job. Still, that’s them. They’re old. Youth, for now, remains on her side, and overall, of course, she loves the travel. Nevertheless, she’s savvy enough to give Kearns the upbeat vibe he needs to hear.
“That’d be amazing!” she replies. “Boss, I don’t know what to say!” But she hedges her bet a bit and asks, “Can I just sleep on it till tomorrow?”
“Sure, I know it’s out of the blue. But if I could ask, what are your concerns?”
“The part about pulling up my Chicago roots. It would be a life-altering move. I have to look at all the angles.”
“I understand,” he says empathetically, “but remember that being in the travel business sometimes means traveling to a new home base.” That concept barely has sunk in with Sheryl when he adds, “Oh, I almost forgot the part about doubling your salary, plus bonuses on your staff’s production—and an occasional choice tour gig of your pick to keep up on travel.”
“Wow,” she says, very pleasantly surprised.
They agree to talk at the same time tomorrow. Inwardly, though, Sheryl is already beginning to consider it a done deal. Why not? she reasons. I’d be nuts to turn it down!
However, at a seaside jerk chicken stand that afternoon, Sterling gives her pushback. “Now, I’m not saying the money and opportunity don’t sound good, so don’t get me wrong,” he says, his tone striking her as disingenuous. “I just wonder if, in the long haul, it’s really what you want to do—or ought to do.”
Annoyed, she asks, “What’s wrong about it?”
“For one thing, I can’t be following you off to Florida.”
“What?” she asks, that factor being far off her radar. Despite her hunger for love and her infatuation with him, she remains very much career-oriented, and opportunity is knocking.
“Well,” he stammers, “maybe it’s nothing to you, but with my clothing company taking off in Chicago, I ask, what about us? Or more to the point, is there even an ‘us’ in any way, shape, or form? So … that’s what’s wrong with Florida as far as I see things.”
“Life’s full of complications, Sterling,” she replies, wondering how he has come to expect to have a say in her comings and goings. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll be. Everything’s fine here in Jamaica, but we still barely know each other. This is my career we’re talking about. So meanwhile,” she says resolutely, “I’m giving this serious thought.”
She digs into her jerk chicken basket at their tipsy table behind the shack, determined to enjoy both the chicken and the million-dollar view. Sterling follows suit. The blinding sun and calm waters become trance-inducing for them. Munching away and staring out to sea, every so often, as if on cue, they silently stare at each other. Each time, before long, their gazes return to the mesmerizing horizon.
Sheryl takes advantage of their prolonged break in conversation to reflect on how this is not the first time a man has tried persuading her away from career opportunities. Ilkin did much the same. With him, it became a polished and oft-repeated routine, often out of nowhere, just as she was thinking how wise he was to be keeping silent on the subject.
Ilkin would implore, “Come to Turkey! You never will have to work again”—even while admitting that she would be no more than just tolerated by certain factions of Turkish society.
Sure, that’s going to work, Sheryl thought as she imagined walking ten paces behind Ilkin whenever out in public. But she was full of doubt about her decision because truly, she was deeply in love with Ilkin.
The conclusion of their relationship has troubled her ever since. Definitive answers didn’t come in time then. Sheryl only can pray for them now. Maybe she has been too driven in her career at the expense of a love life. What to do? As she squints against the sun’s reflection off the Caribbean, her pensive mood is derailed by Sterling, who abruptly breaks the silence.
“Tell Kearns you have complications from a side venture that tie you to Chicago. Say whatever you need to say to keep on working his tours and hope there will be no hard feelings. Emphasize that it’s just that the timing is not so good for you right now.”
“And what do I say when he asks about this side venture?”
“Just that you’d love to fill him in, but for now, it’s all confidential. You’ll let him in on it when the timing’s right. What can he say?”
“That’s not a worry for you. For me, saying the right thing is.”
“Stalling him is the right thing, I guarantee it.”
Sheryl verges on telling off Sterling for being presumptuous but instead retains her composure and says, “So tell me about this side venture.”
Sterling proposes that she quit her full-time position at KTC and instead freelance travel gigs through Kearns and other tour packagers, all while maintaining a home base in Chicago, from where she will be an integral partner in his burgeoning clothing company. One day, they will be multimillionaires individually and a couple for life. “We could be doing Jamaica for long weekends or on a whim!”
“Sounds wonderful,” Sheryl numbly reacts. “But realistically, what’s the business plan? What are the odds?”
“We’re perfectly placed to target the hot youth market, and our case studies all point to a massive success story. I’m telling you, it can’t miss.”
Sheryl laughs. “Sure, can’t miss, guaranteed.”
“Funny,” he says, not amused.
Following chicken, they comb the beach and then get in a little sailing on a No Worries craft. Before long, it’s time for another perfect seaside sunset.
“A fella could get used to this,” professes Sterling, “meaning a lifetime of it with you.”
She has forgotten the earlier acrimony and confesses, “At times like this, I can see it too.”
As dusk falls, they fall into each other’s arms. Later, under a bright night sky, they wander back to her room. Snug and cuddly in her bed, it’s 4:00 a.m. before they know it—and time for Sterling to pack it in for his own room, about which he doesn’t grouse.
The next day, Sheryl tells Kearns she’s not able to pull up stakes right now. “The timing is just wrong for me, boss. I’m so sorry but so grateful for the offer.”
“I understand, I guess, but I am surprised.”
“For now, I … uh …” She fumbles as she tries to explain. “I just want to keep Chicago my home base.”
“Understood,” Kearns assures her. “So that’s it. No problem.”
“Can we leave the door open moving forward if Florida ever comes up again?”
“Of course! I’m glad you asked, really. The door’s always open for you.”
“Thanks!” She is hesitant to play the freelance card Sterling suggested, but she decides to try another angle for time off. “Meanwhile, JA Tours and Conferences has offered me a job through hurricane season. And I have to admit, I’m kind of in the mood to go native down here awhile longer. Would you mind? It’d be like a working sabbatical.”
After a beat of silence, Kearns chuckles. “Do it while you’re young. They’re good people. I can get some freelancers to fill in the gaps for a while—but I will need to know after hurricane season if I can rely on you full-time again. Stay in touch, Sheryl.”
Feeling like a heel, she simply says, “Thanks, Thomas.”
JA Tours and Conferences, happy to have Sheryl on board, keeps her at No Worries as tour liaison director, basically the same job she’s been doing, only now for JA Tours instead of KTC. They have many clients who love the hurricane season bargains. This is perfect for Sheryl because she can use the money and the continuing free digs. However, n
o openings exist for Sterling.
“Hey, that’s fine by me,” he tells Sheryl. “I really just feel like kicking back a bit. Hell, I thought I’d be stuck in a career I hated, doctoring in Indy. But no, here I am in Jamaica with you! What could be finer?”
“I hope you’ve put away a little for a rainy day.”
“A little. But so much has happened so quickly, I could use a breather.”
For now, No Worries allows Sterling to retain his KTC room at a reduced guest rate. He quickly grows to love his role of privileged guest with insider contacts. Over a few weeks’ time, he continues filling Sheryl’s head with financial and romantic fantasies, mixing business jargon with sweet talk and gentle nuzzles at the beach. Still, as with any guy, he talks himself into trouble one day, abruptly crying poor to the employed Sheryl.
“Man, I’m broke,” Sterling declares as they walk their favorite stretch of beach.
She’s unsympathetic. “What do you expect when you don’t work? Get a job. And what about your hotshot company? Aren’t there things you should be doing?”
“It’s just getting off the ground,” he retorts. “There’s no money in it yet, as you know. And my cousins are on top of start-up logistics and interfacing with designers. It’s all cool.”
“How is it you trust those cousins of yours to oversee everything while you’re down here all this time?” She’s beginning to wonder if he’s been trying to fleece her all along.
“Baby, listen—my cousins are more on the ball than you think. You’ve never met them, so don’t judge them.”
“What little I do know is all bad.”
Sterling sighs sadly and shakes his head. “All you remember is a little trouble from when they were pretty much still kids—and street kids at that, growing up without all the little North Shore niceties you were lucky enough to have.”
Sheryl is having none of this today. “How like you to say.” Without another word, she makes an about-face and heads back to the resort, leaving him in the lurch at water’s edge.
Heartstrings in B-Flat Minor Page 7