The Mike Black Saga; MOB (17 page)

“Jamaica. Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes. I am from Saint James Parish.”

“Saint James Parish? I’ve never heard of that.”

“It very near to Montego Bay,” Veronica answered.

“I’ve been to Jamaica a few times.”

“Have you now? What part you been to?”

“I’ve been to Montego Bay, to Kingston, and Negril.”

“You know, as many times as you’ve been there, you really not been to there ’til you go with somebody who from there. You see, you probably spend all of your time at whatever resort you went to. Am I right?”

“You’re right. We went on the little resort sponsored shopping trip, but they try to have enough going on so you stay in the resort.”

“They don’t want you rich Americans spending too much of your money outside the gate. Maybe somebody else make some money other them,” Veronica said.

After a bit more small talk, they were seated at a table with a view of the setting sun for dinner. “Do you know what you want?” Travis asked as they looked over the menu.

Veronica smiled at Travis. “I always know exactly what I want.”

“And what might that be, Veronica?”

“A very juicy cut of filet mignon,” Veronica replied, looking into his eyes. “It’s called Filetto Al Pepe Verde, and it’s served with our homemade peppercorn sauce,” she said slowly and deliberately. “What about you?”

“I was thinkin’ about the New Zealand rack of lamb. But you’ve got me feelin’ the Mermaid Surf n’ Turf Platter. You know, that big steak and jumbo shrimp combination, grilled to perfection, served with a guacamole sauce,” Travis said, keeping the tone of the flirtation.

After dinner and not so polite dinner conversation was finished, Travis asked about the nightlife.

“There’s a place called Bamboo that’s nice. It’s located at the Hyatt Regency Hotel.

“What kind of place is it?” he asked.

“You go there for an upscale kind of sophisticated atmosphere. It’s a sushi bar and lounge. Do you like sushi, Travis?”

“I love to eat sushi, but not right now.”

“Or there’s The Matrix. They have a DJ that plays hip-hop and reggae. Or we could go to Bed.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Travis, honey, if you could only see the look on your face.” Veronica laughed. “Bed is a cozy little lounge on the Harquail Bypass, where the drinks are served by waiters in silk pajamas.”

“You are too much, girl.”

“No, me just enough.”

Travis and Veronica ended up at The Next Level on West Bay Road near the Marriott, where the pair danced to reggae music. It was a little after 1:00 in the morning when Veronica arrived in Rum Point and pulled up in front of Travis’s condo to drop him off.

“Do you want to come in?” Travis asked as he got out of her car. He leaned in the window. “It’s a long ride back.”

“But it will be a longer ride if I come in,” Veronica said. “I must work in the morning, and we have business to transact at the bank.”

Travis laughed. “Okay, Veronica.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The following morning, Travis arrived at the bank dressed like a tourist, complete with a camera around his neck. After a bit of flirtatious small talk and comments about Travis’s attire, Veronica personally assisted him in depositing $140,000. Once the transaction was complete, Veronica asked Travis what his plans were for the day. He had made arrangements to take a bus tour of the island, after which he planned to relax at the beach by the condo.

“You can take my car, as long as you come back for me at five,” she offered.

 Travis gave it some thought, but declined her offer. “I really don’t feel like driving here. That’s why I didn’t rent a car. The whole left side driving thing is kind of freaky to me, you know.”

“I understand. To be honest, most of our accidents are from you Americans renting cars. So, can we get together tonight?” Veronica asked.

“Oh, no doubt. Why don’t you come by the condo tonight? I’m sure we’ll find something to get into.”

“That’s sound good to me. Say around nine?”

“Sounds like a plan is coming together. See you around nine, Veronica,” Travis said as he headed out of the bank. “Oh yeah. Bring some swimwear.”

From then on, Travis was a tourist. The money was now safely in his account, which brought the balance to just over $200,000. He stopped at the first bar he found and had a couple of strong tropical drinks before proceeding to the tour bus.

While waiting to board the tour bus, Travis struck up a conversation with two British women who were visiting the island from York, a borough of North England. Once the tour began, the group was driven around the island to the many points of interest. Travis and his English companions took quite a few digital photos of themselves and the sights.

“The Cayman Islands were first sighted by European explorers on 10 May, 1503,” the tour conductor told the group, “owing its existence to a chance wind that blew Christopher Columbus’s ship off course.”  He continued to tell the story of the islands’ discovery, and the origin of the name Cayman Islands. “By 1530, the name Caymanas was being used. It is derived from the Carib Indian word for the marine crocodile, which is now known to have lived in the islands. This name, or a variant, has been retained ever since.” He went on to describe the settlement of the islands, including their history of slavery. Travis appreciated the history lesson, but was looking forward to relaxing that afternoon.

Once the tour concluded, Travis spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out on the beach with the two English women. Once the sun went down, he made his way back to Rum Point. He looked at the clock and thought this would be a good time to call Me’shelle.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

“How you doing, Me’shelle?” Travis asked.

“I’m doing fine. I guess I don’t have to ask you how you’re doing. I know you’re having a good time. So good a time that you forgot to call me yesterday,” Me’shelle said. Then she flipped it. “I’m just trippin’ with you, Travis. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself in Miami.”

“Actually, Me’shelle, I’m not in Miami.”

“Where are you? Back in New York?”

“No. I’m in the Cayman Islands.”

“What? You’re in the Cayman Islands? What are you doing there?”

“Just tying up some loose ends from the last job I did.”

“Oh, now I’m mad at you. Did you know it snowed here today? It never snows this early in the winter. It was just a few inches, but still, it snowed. So, you’re down there, having fun in the sun while I’m here in the snow. You’re probably calling me from the beach right now, aren’t you?”

“No, Me’shelle, I’m not on the beach. The sun went down about an hour ago. But the condo I’m staying in has a screened-in lanai with my own private pool.”

“I hate you, and I never want to see you again,” Me’shelle said.

“Oh, so it’s like that?”

“No.” Me’shelle smiled. “But it should be. I don’t like the cold.”

“You wanna come down here for the weekend? I’ll send you a ticket.”

“No, Travis. I don’t know you that well.”

“Are you sure, Me’shelle? I could call my guy and tell him not to come until Sunday. There’s a couch that turns into a bed. You could have the bedroom. I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Your offer is tempting, Travis, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to come to the islands to meet you, not to mention stay with a man I barely know.”

“I can respect that.”

“I know a lot of women who would jump at the chance to fly to the Caymans to stay with a handsome man in a condo with a private pool.”

“So do I,” Travis said quietly.

“I heard that. So, why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what? Bring a woman down here with me?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you?” Me’shelle asked. “Or are you one of those people who doesn’t like to bring sand to the beach?”

“No, it’s not that.” Travis thought carefully about what his answer would be. He really wanted to answer her question honestly. “I’m here alone for two reasons. One, I’m here to handle some business. Two, there’s nobody in my life I feel enough for to want to bring them along on a trip like this.”

“Then why did you invite me?”

“Because I think there’s a chance that you just may be somebody I could feel that way about,” Travis answered. He thought about what he just said, then he thought about Marita, his one-night stand in Miami. The last time he talked to Me’shelle he rushed her off the phone to let Marita in.

He looked at the clock next to the bed. It was 8:30 p.m. In thirty minutes, Veronica would be there, and he had every intention of stripping her juicy body down. Then he thought about Mystique. What was he going to do with her?
Is this how a man acts when he thinks he’s found the one?

“I don’t know about all that, Travis,” Me’shelle said as if she heard the question. “I like you. I enjoy talking to you more than I’ve enjoyed talking to anybody in a long time.” She thought about Trent. Wasn’t this how things started with him too?
Maybe this is how it always begins.

When they met, Me’shelle thought Trent was the most fascinating man she’d ever met. Two days later she was bent over her couch and Trent was inside her. After a few months, his stories got old and all sounded the same. Before they broke up—
you mean before he dumped you for the tittie woman—
he seemed like the shallowest man she’d ever met. But she thought she was in love with him. Maybe it was just that she got comfortable with him and didn’t like being removed from her comfort zone. Me’shelle had spent a lot of time thinking about that very thing, and she didn’t have the answer—at least not yet.

“I’m not saying that I’m the answer to all your questions, but can I tell you what I’d like to do with you, Me’shelle?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’d like to have a chance to take my time and see if you can be all that I think you are.”

“I like the part about taking your time. That sounds really good to me. I’ve rushed into relationships before and I’ve gotten my feelings hurt every time. So, as much as I like you, Travis, I’m going to take it really slowly with you.”

“Are you still gonna have dinner with me when I get back?”

“No doubt. I’m looking forward to it,” Me’shelle said.

“So, if I call you from Miami, will you pick me up tomorrow night from the airport?”

“It depends on what time, but yes.”

“Good,” Travis said happily. “I’ll call you from Miami.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Me’shelle, my belle.”

“Bye, Travis.”

Travis hung up the phone, stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep. He was awakened suddenly by a loud noise. He looked at the clock; it was 10:30. He got up and made his way to the door. 

“I bet you thought I wasn’t coming,” Veronica said.

“No. To be honest with you, I fell asleep,” Travis said as his eyes began to focus on the woman standing before him with her arms extended. She wore a white cotton dress and carried a bottle of champagne in one hand and a big purse in the other.

Veronica handed the bottle to Travis. “A little something to celebrate your last night on the island,” she said as she passed.

“Dom Perignon ’93.”

“I see you already have on your trunks. Why don’t you pour us a glass and wait for me in the pool?”

Before Travis could say another word, Veronica disappeared into the bathroom. Travis shrugged and went in the kitchen to pour himself a glass of Henny. He’d noticed that there was a champagne bucket in the cabinet. He filled it with ice, got two glasses, and headed out the sliding door to the pool.

He dimmed the light around the pool and turned the water temperature up just a bit before he stepped in. He poured the champagne and sat patiently in the pool slipping Henny, waiting for Veronica to make her appearance.

Finally she appeared, still wearing that same white dress. Veronica came through the door and walked slowly toward the pool. “Did I take too long, Travis?” she asked as she let the dress drop to the ground. “I brought a bikini with me as you asked me to.” She stepped into the water. “And I had started to put it on, but I say, for what? So I can take it off in a few minutes?”

Travis handed her a glass of champagne and Veronica immediately poured it out across his chest. She slowly ran her tongue across his chest until she consumed every drop, all the while rubbing the bulge in his trunks. Travis leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Me’shelle’s image appeared in his mind’s eye. He heard Me’shelle say,
Pleasure me, Travis.

Travis reached between Veronica’s legs and ran his hand through her hair as he fingered her clit. Veronica stood up and reached for the bottle. She poured herself a glass and took a sip. “This is very good champagne,” she said then put down her glass.