Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) (8 page)

Today, the band of mountain guerrillas was
lazily smoking marijuana secure in the knowledge that they were
safely camped in highlands of the Andes. Little did they know that
their safety would be jeopardized the moment they captured the
American oilman from the back of his truck after shooting the
driver and two locals.

Immediately after making contact with the
outside world for ransom of their captor, the sophisticated
satellite equipment of the American government had a “bead” on the
guerilla soldiers. Their activities were monitored for one week
before the private special ops unit invaded their territory.

Slater studied the movements of the
guerrillas through field glasses. It wasn’t long before he spotted
the American tied to the tree like a dog. He looked grungy and
dirty with two weeks growth of beard. He was a little thin, but
otherwise seemed unharmed physically. It was not a pleasant
position, which to be put. The daily harassment from lunatic
banditos was beginning to show. Hopefully, he could arise to the
occasion and with the prospect of freedom would not be too weak to
keep up with the ops unit and “Get out of Dodge”.

Slater and his buddies surrounded the camp
carefully. They would wait until dark to make their move. Wearing
night goggles, they were able to position themselves for any attack
that would occur. Slater would free the prisoner. With luck, he
would silently cut him loose and no one would be the wiser until
morning. Unfortunately, that was usually the exception rather than
the rule. As night fell, the victim was moved into a rough shelter,
making the issue slightly more complicated.

The unit waited in tense silence, observing
the camp, counting the guerrillas, and listening to the spoken
Spanish. Each man of the SEALS’ unit spoke fluent Spanish as well
as several other languages. They were all highly
intelligent---which was just another reason that they were
extremely lethal to their enemy. They were always in full
battle-rattle gear with their flak vests and M-4 machine guns that
had been modified to also include a grenade launcher. It is a
heavy, but effective weapon and this crew did not use it as pray
and spray artillery. They were deadly and accurate with their
target.

As the sun was going down and boredom set in
combined with a little tequila, an argument broke out between two
guerrillas. It wasn’t long before all were entertained with a knife
fight, which left one of the guerrillas dead. No one seemed
particularly concerned. Life was not real important to this bunch
unless it was their own.

Once the camp settled down for the night, the
unit would execute their plan. They would know the exact position
of each smarmy terrorist before the attack began and dispose of
them if necessary.

As the dawn jungle sounds began their nightly
ritual, the soldiers prepared to launch their attack when a
guerrilla operative wondered into the jungle to urinate near
Bear---that was his misfortune. The guard near the captured oilman
soon fell asleep---that was his misfortune as well.

Inside the makeshift shelter, Slater touched
the shoulder of the kidnapped victim. He jumped in surprised and
then slumped in relief as he realized he was in the presence of an
American soldier. After cutting the leather bindings from the hands
and feet of the guerrilla victim, Slater helped him stand and get
his circulation flowing. It was at that moment that a bandito
guarding the perimeter must have stumbled over the dead body of his
comrade. An alert was sounded and all hell broke loose.

Bear and Dog immediately created a diversion.
Grenades and a few other fireworks got the attention of the camp
banditos. They soon muddled through their tequila fog and immerged
on the fight scene with all the savageness they could muster.

Eight dead guerrilla banditos were left
behind as the three American soldiers and their kidnapped victim
dissolved into the jungle terrain. They were too fast, too deadly,
and left too many bodies to be followed. They were long gone before
the guerrilla terrorists could regroup.

The oilman was a little shook and weak, but
the thought of freedom gave him the needed boost of energy. With
the help of night goggles, the group navigated steadily through the
dark jungle floor with him. An hour later, they rendezvoused with
the night bird chopper at the intended time and climbed into the
open pit of the helicopter.

It would take three hours to get back to
civilization and board a plane to the States. As the dose of
adrenaline calmed, each man put the night behind them and began to
doze as they hummed back to a military site. From there, they would
catch a commercial plane from the city of Bogotá.

Slater’s nap was restless as memories of a
beautiful redhead on another chopper percolated through his
subconscious. It was a little longer before the blessed darkness of
sleep took him out of his misery.

CHAPTER 20

It was a beautiful Saturday spring morning in
Newport Beach. Slater decided to walk down to the local coffee shop
from his lush penthouse apartment that overlooked the ocean to
Catalina. As he picked up the LA Times, he glanced at the array of
magazines that lined the open stand. It was the April issue of some
fashion magazine that captured his attention. A redhead with aqua
eyes graced the cover and stared back at him. He would know those
eyes anywhere. He remained frozen in time absorbing the face and
figure of the woman that he had erased from his conscious memory.
In slow motion he reached out to touch her. He surprised himself by
soon leaving with both the newspaper and magazine tucked under his
arm.

Once Slater was back in the his posh
apartment, he threw the magazine down on the fine brown leather
couch with pillows made from woven Khalin rugs in rust, deep brown,
and navy blue. His condo was his grand retreat from the world when
he needed it. Three condos were put together to achieve a spacious
and panoramic effect. It was elegantly decorated for a macho
man.

The deep chocolate brown wooden floors gave
an almost dull sheen of blackness. They were covered with Persian
rugs from all over the world giving it a warm masculine feeling
that was fit for an Arabian king.

The walls of Slater’s condo were a light gray
adorned with a variety of tasteful and colorful expensive art
throughout the house. He was especially proud of the calendar women
of Vargas originals that adorned his bath with the sunken tub. Flat
screen TVs and fireplaces were included in all the baths that kept
a constant update on world events.

A few old world antiques from France and
England graced a corner or two to give Slater’s private home the
needed accent of perfection. They were elegant and expensive.

A large “cooler” room held wine that set on
the tables of only the very rich and affluent. It was Slater’s
special reserve.

A sleek modern bedroom held an oversized king
bedroom set. The headboard was a narrow aquarium of salt-water
fish. It was anchored to the wall and was as wide as the bed
reaching to the top of the ceiling. It contained colorful coral and
Caribbean fish of royal blue, bright yellow, orange stripes, and
other exotic animals that live in the sea.

The fish were fed from a workout room behind
Slater’s bed. The exercise room had all the latest equipment and
was part of the bedroom that gave him a spectacular ocean view, but
running on the beach was more exhilarating than his treadmill
unless the weather did not permit. That was rare.

A hot tub, which was often used for many
decadent moments, rested on the balcony among the palms. It also
had its own flat screen T.V. and fireplace. It most definitely was
a party pad.

A full sized kitchen with cherry cabinets,
stainless steel appliances, and black and gray swirling granite
completed Slater’s cozy set up. It was used by a middle aged cook
that came during the day. She cooked his meals, washed his bed, and
kept his home clean and neat. She also took care of his fish and
Caesar, his hefty Doberman that adored him and yet demanded very
little from him except for an occasional pat on the head and a
daily jog on the beach.

This morning, he was not enjoying his luxury
bachelor pad. It more than annoyed him that he was perturbed by the
face that now was on his coffee table staring back at him. Unable
to control himself, he reached for the magazine and began to thumb
through it until he reached the pictures of Swan. She was doing a
swimsuit layout somewhere in the Caribbean with the white sands,
clear aqua water, and sunny blue sky. She stood in a skimpy bikini
on a sandy mound looking out over the Caribbean Sea. Her gorgeous
long hair with the bird of paradise flower was tucked behind one
ear. It blew lazily in the breeze along with the backdrop of the
island palms. The aqua crocheted bikini covered very little of her
womanly assets. It did not take much imagination to remember the
large nipples and long legs that wrapped around him. A muscular
male model stood directly behind her with his disgusting lips on
her long neck. Swan smiled sweetly with half closed lids looking
fully recovered. She seemed to be enjoying herself. That rather
pissed him off!

Slater threw the magazine down again in
disgust and walked out on the balcony for a smoke. What he didn’t
know is that the Caribbean photo shoot had taken place last

fall, six months before it was to appear in
the spring magazine issue and three months before the fatal airline
disaster.

CHAPTER 21

Swan pulled back the delicate white muslin
drape that covered the panoramic view of the Pacific. They let in
light and still gave her privacy when needed. She stared out the
window of her glass doors that overlooked the ocean , but her
vacant eyes still held no vision. She could only imagine the frothy
tide as it rippled down the sandy beach and roared back to the
yawning ocean beyond.

Swan had spent two months going to every
appointment with every ophthalmologist in the Los Angeles area that
was a world expert in their field. They all seemed to have the same
conclusion of “wait and see”. She thought that that was a rather
laughable phrase considering that was literally the state, which
she did not find herself. She was frustrated and upset. Lately, she
seemed to be in a continual state of nausea as well. Had it not
been for her friend, Kat, she would have totally freaked-out.

Kat lived in a luxury home nearby. It was
fortunate for Swan that she was in-between-lovers and not at her
second home in southern Italy. Kat had replaced Ace for her
temporary lifeline. She organized Swan’s apartment for her, took
her to doctor appointments, and helped her with her darkness.
Through sheer determination, Swan began to pull herself together
and take complete control of her life. She did not remain helpless
long. She learned from the organization for the visual impaired how
to live in a world of blackness. Once she was resigned to a
possibility of a lifetime of blindness, she soon learned to adapt
to what was a strong possibility of normalcy for the rest of her
life.

Swan’s apartment was not arranged too
differently. Too much rearranging would only disturb her
equilibrium and cause her to feel totally lost in her own
surrounds. But, certain concessions had to be made in order to make
it more functional. She could only picture the Brazilin cherry
floors and the few changes that Kat had made.

Swan’s pleasant luxury apartment was painted
a soft yellow with white ornate molding above doors and at the top
around each wall. Her artwork was bright and cheery. The bright
colors made her feel happy and brought joy to the life that she had
created. A Chihuly masterpiece of hand blown colored glass hung
over the Biedermeier table in the dining room. The beveled glass
mirrors on three walls of the dining room were in six-inch sections
that reflected a view of Catalina and the Pacific. A few expensive
Venetian glass pieces and Lalique collections graced the antique
tables as well.

Throughout Swan’s home, she had large
needlepoint rugs that complimented her floors and walls. The rug in
the dining room was cream with a wide leopard border, while others
were made with individual designs of soft colorful flowers that
popped of red, magenta, yellow, and palm green.

From the floor to ceiling hung brightly
colored vintage posters that covered the walls which were mixed-in
with original pastels from Paris, Madrid, and Rome. Some
watercolors captured the scenes from the cities and others were a
reminder of the beautiful flower gardens and vineyards that were
scattered about the European countryside. When Swan was sad, they
would always help her escape to the wonderful thoughts of eating
gelato with friends on the cobblestone streets of Rome, listening
to music on the streets of Paris, and hearing the street vendors of
Spain as they carried baskets of fish on their heads. All of the
posters and pastels held special moments and memories; especially,
the fountains and statues of Rome.

If Swan thought about it long enough, she
could hear the rush of traffic as the citizens of Italy honked
their horns from their little Smart cars or blared off on their
motor scooters with their high heels and mini-skirts. She could
almost taste the wine and smell the aroma of Italian pizzas. It was
these little parts of Europe that were helping her cope with this
difficult time in her life and adjust to a sightless future.

Swan turned on her sound system that played a
relaxing Mozart. She then sat down on her soft butter cream suede
couch with cheetah print pillows that had red-orange cording and
beading, which complimented the soft cushy chairs on each side of
the fireplace. She felt for a coaster on the Biedermeier end table
to set her tea upon the tortoise shell look-a-like glass coffee
table in front of her. She could only smell the multi-colored fresh
bouquet of flowers that Maria, the maid, had placed in the
center.