Initiation in Paradise Read online

  Cootie stood and motioned us to follow. He led us through a thicket of trees to a boat tied to a rickety dock that was less than a foot long and had a jagged edge. I’d guess that a hurricane took a nibble out of it. The flat-bottom boat with an outboard was older than Cootie, judging by its looks.

  “Is it seaworthy?” Fab questioned skeptically.

  “It’ll get us through these mangroves.” Cootie untied the boat and held out his hand to help Fab on board. She, in turn, held out a hand to me.

  Fab and I sat on the front bench while Cootie settled in the back and started the engine, which was loud in the still air. He steered us out on the water and into a narrow waterway of the sound that was hedged in by thick growth on each side.

  I put my head on Fab’s shoulder. “I’m not sure how we explain today, because frankly, it would sound made-up, even to me.”

  The slight breeze whipped our hair around, and the sun beat down on the short ride to the only restaurant around. In fact, the only commercial business in the entire area. Cootie pulled up alongside the dock at the restaurant and tied off, helping us out.

  “How do I get in touch?” I asked.

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “But if…”

  “My turn-in is two miles from the junction of the roadway.” Cootie grunted. “You two be careful.”

  Fab thanked him and kissed his cheek, which left the man blushing. We both waved, climbed the stairs to the restaurant, and stepped into the open-air bar. All of the waterfront tables were filled, and interestingly enough, not a single customer paid attention to our arrival.

  Chapter Three

  It was surprising that a restaurant in such an isolated location was half-full on a weekday. That said something for either the food or the lack of competition.

  “You think you can turn on the charm and get the bartender to let us use the phone?” I elbowed Fab and, out of options, we wound our way around the tables to the bar.

  Fab slowed, turned, and asked, “Why are we stranded out here?”

  “Car trouble. We… uh… decided to walk, and when we realized our error and turned around, our ride had been stolen.”

  “Don’t leave my side.” Fab grabbed my arm, and we ended up standing in front of a middle-aged bartender who’d been eyeing us. “Can I use your phone?” She gave the story I’d come up with, sticking to it almost word for word.

  “That’s bull,” he sneered. “I saw you two dock that piece of crap and come up the steps. You need to get out of here unless you’re offering something sexual, and then I’ll think about your request.”

  “Could you be a bigger pig?” I asked, forgetting that we needed a favor.

  “I could call the cops.” He pointed to the main entrance. “Get moving.”

  We turned away. I said, “I could make a scene until he did call the cops.”

  Fab shook her head, grabbed my arm, and led me slowly in the direction he pointed. “Let’s make that the last resort. You’re the one with the plans. Now what? We’re still in the middle of nowhere, and the only business out here is no help.”

  “Remind me to send Toady back here to kick the holy snot out of that man,” I said.

  “Madison. That’s not appropriate talk,” Fab scolded, morphing into Mother, which made us both laugh.

  Toady was an associate of Fab’s and did any butt-kicking necessary, and when it came to his favorite girl, heaven help anyone who disrespected her.

  “We can’t walk,” I whined. “Addy Clegg is still on the loose. That’s not a name I’m apt to forget. I’m going to get my baby back. Or have someone come out and snatch her house out from under her.” Another job for Toady.

  “Calm down.” Fab looped her arm through mine. “You need to come up with another plan, since that’s your area of expertise.”

  We stood on the road in front of the building and surveyed the parking spaces, delineated by chipped, faint lines that ran the length of the property. I spotted a pickup parked at the far end, a grizzled, bearded man lifting a large metal basket out of the truck bed and disappearing into the back entrance.

  “Come on.” I ran to make sure that we didn’t miss the man on his way back out. We didn’t have long to wait before he reappeared. He noticed us standing at his front bumper right off and shot us a questioning look.

  “We’re in desperate need of a ride back to town.” I stepped forward. “We can’t pay you now, but will be able to once we get back.”

  The man tugged on the end of a black beard riddled with grey and gave us a once-over. “I can drop you at the turnoff to Highway One, if you don’t mind riding in the back. Payback’s not necessary.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Fab and I climbed into the bed.

  “It smells back here,” Fab grouched.

  I looked down at my clothing and then at hers. “It might be us that smell. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so sticky, dirty, or grimy in my life.”

  “We’re alive.”

  “There’s that.”

  We fist-bumped and leaned back against the cab, using our hands to provide limited coverage for our faces from the sizzling sun. I watched as we passed mile after mile of nothing but jungle and was happy that we’d scored a ride, no matter how uncomfortable it was being jostled around back there. True to his word, once back in civilization, the man pulled to the side of the road and let us out.

  We waved and shouted our thanks as he roared off, waving back.

  “You do realize we’re still a damn long walk from home.” Fab pointed to the Overseas that ran south, ending in Key West.

  “We can do this. The Cottages are only a couple of miles from here, and then we can bum a ride from Mac.”

  I owned a ten-unit property of individual cottages on the beach, and Mac Lane was my manager. Her main job was to keep the circus from spilling into the street. On occasion, one of the tenants would get loose, but Mac would round them up and, in her forceful way, tell them to, “Knock it off.”

  “We could hitch a ride,” Fab suggested.

  “How many times can we tempt fate? We’ve done it twice now, and the third time might be a disaster.” I didn’t wait for an answer and started walking.

  “There’s that. New rule: we don’t get out of the car without our phones, no matter how tame we think the situation.”

  “Agreed.” I didn’t tell her that I’d had mine and lost it in the weeds. We walked mostly in silence. “I just realized that without my keys, I can’t get in the house. So you get to finally update our home security system. I want a keyless entry pad.”

  Fab took her lockpick out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Your husband will have a flipping fit. He’ll think that I’ll use it to come and go as I please.”

  “Because you will. So I’ll spring it on him as a surprise. How sneaky is that?” We giggled, which was a first that day and an enjoyable, lighthearted moment.

  We hiked down the highway, past businesses and landmarks that we passed every day. Fab, in shortcut mode, directed us across a trash-filled lot to a side street that dumped us into a residential neighborhood, then shot down an alley and around a corner. Fab knew every way to shorten the route, though it did surprise me that we hadn’t trespassed through people’s yards. A half-block from our destination, I saw that Mac’s truck wasn’t sitting in the driveway and grumbled, “No way.”

  “Now what?” Fab demanded, staring down the street. “So much for Mac driving us. Thankfully, your drunk tenants don’t drive, and I wouldn’t get in a vehicle with one of them anyway.”

  “The professor doesn’t drink; we’ll bang on his door.” I led the way.

  It surprised me that the property was quiet; not a single person slumped over drunk on their porch or peering through the blinds. The art deco units were situated around the driveway in a u-shape. I rented half the units to regulars and the other half to tourists and, to the shock of the community, ran a waiting list for your next vacati
on adventure. The guests came for the antics, and we aimed to please.

  We turned the corner. I slowed passing the pool area, making sure that no one was passed out and in need of relocation before they took a tumble into the water. Fab, ahead of me, beat on Crum’s door, giving the impression that at least six cops were waiting for him to answer.

  Professor Crum was, in two words, a hot mess. If I hadn’t been the one to call to verify his references, then call back to double-check them, I’d never have believed that he retired from a top-rated college with impeccable references.

  His white head poked out the bathroom window as if no one would notice, even though it was less than a foot from the front door. He made eye contact and slammed it down. Seconds later, he threw open the door. “You know how to scare an old man,” he said snootily, ramrod stiff in vulgar-fitting tighty-whities a size too small.

  I’d long ago trained my eyes to stay on his face. Done with her antics, Fab stepped over behind me, her way of saying, You deal with him.

  “You break the window; you pay.” I motioned. “Cut the histrionics about being old; there’s nothing wrong with you. Ask any woman in the neighborhood.” The professor had a reputation with the women. “We need a ride…” Fab poked me in the back. The last thing we wanted was him knowing where we lived. “To Jake’s.”

  “Sold my truck,” he said with a big smile. “Made a killing. I’m hitting the auction tomorrow to see what kind of deal I can get on another one.” His expression turned to disgust as he eyed us. “I’d invite you in, but I don’t want you getting my furniture dirty.” Still standing on the porch, he jerked the door closed behind him, as though we’d attempt to rush him.

  I didn’t bother to remind him that he rented the cottage furnished, and therefore, “his” furniture belonged to me. “Didn’t know you were still in the car-thieving business.” He bought ridiculously cheap, and when he didn’t sell outright, he’d take payments from some unsuspecting schlubs who couldn’t afford bus fare, let alone a car, hoping to get it back and restart the cycle. Once or twice, it’d almost ended his life, but he was a slow learner for a man who made jokes about others’ IQs, or lack thereof.

  He straightened and sputtered. “Can’t help you.” He cracked open the door, preparing to slip inside.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked.

  “I use Mac’s when I need to make a call.”

  I reached around him and grabbed the knob to stop him from slithering inside and shutting the door in our faces. “I’ll borrow your Barbie bike then. Do you happen to have another good deal hanging in your shed?”

  When he did have a car, he parked it on the street, and I’d let him install a shed in his parking space to house his “finds” from garbage bins.

  “What do I get out of it?”

  “The satisfaction of doing something nice for someone, namely your landlord. Which you can use as a reminder to her of your benevolence, so the next time she wants to kick your butt to the curb, she’ll give you a reprieve.”

  Fab laughed in my ear. So she approved of my arm-twisting.

  “Let me get my key.” He disappeared inside and was back out before Fab could put her foot to the door.

  On the way to the shed, I said, “You never said whether you’ve got two bikes or not.” I wasn’t certain it was possible to fit two grown women on a kid’s bike. He nodded before I could ask for a skateboard and a piece of rope. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to park the bikes in the kitchen at Jake’s. Corral Mac and ask her nicely to go get them and bring them back in her truck.” Crum grumbled. “Free meal,” I added. Then, after he opened the door, “I get the pink bike.”

  Fab rolled her eyes.

  Crum rolled out a turquoise twin and handed it to Fab. “Be careful. These are my money-makers.” He grouched and held onto the handlebars until she acknowledged that.

  Just great, screwing people on the price of a used kid’s bike. I kept the sentiment to myself. “Your assistance is appreciated,” I said, having weaseled inside the shed when he was otherwise occupied and pushed my bike choice back out.

  “The seats are hard, not to mention small,” Fab grumbled as we peddled out of the driveway. She turned away from the highway and started down a side street.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I yelled after her. “The direct route, please. I’d like to get there before closing and not have to sleep in the parking lot.”

  “Exaggeration much?” Fab snarked back. “We could walk it and still get there hours before closing.”

  Chapter Four

  Fab and I curved back to the main highway, staying on the bike path, and from there, it was a straight shot to the bar. It was a quick trip, and we soon cruised into the parking lot and around the back of Jake’s—a tiki bar that I owned on the main drag. The rest of the businesses that shared the block were closed—in truth, they were rarely, if ever, open. Fab rented her lighthouse to Gunz, an old business associate, for a pittance, along with his assurance that he was going legit. Twinkie Princesses, the roach coach, never opened—they were a favorite, as they sent their rent checks on time and never caused any trouble. A rumor was floating about that the women were entertaining the idea of selling, but that hadn’t materialized. Junker’s, the antique garden store, was the only place with regular-ish hours—usually mornings, as he closed to ferret out more finds to sell at a six-hundred-percent markup.

  The two of us rode single file through the kitchen door and parked the bikes in the corner, garnering a double take and a grin from one of Cook’s kin, who was on grill duty. The big boss was gone for the day, his door locked.

  “I win.” Fab got off her bike and shot her fist in the air.

  I shook my head, refusing to think about my various aches and pains, and exited the kitchen. Kelpie was behind the bar, putting on a bump-and-grind show for her regulars. She looked up, noticed me headed in her direction, and waved. I motioned to her, and she tagged the other bartender and ran to meet me, her multi-colored pink hair swinging around her shoulders.

  She looked us over from head to toe. “You two look like—”

  “I’m your boss,” I cut her off.

  “But your inner beauty still shines through.” She smiled cheekily.

  “Good save,” Fab grumped.

  I stared past Kelpie’s shoulder. “Who’s behind the bar?”

  “That’s the new hire.” Kelpie’s eyes turned to Fab, communicating, You tell her.

  “Can you get me the key to the office? I’ll only be here long enough to make a few calls.”

  “Your husbands are out on the deck with some shifty fellow,” Kelpie said. “His eyes are too close together.”

  “You sound like my grandmother spouting off words of wisdom,” I said.

  The three of us turned and headed toward the bar, and I tugged on Fab’s arm, pausing in front of the door to the game room, the perfect shortcut to the deck. It was used by the regular poker group, which had grown so much in membership that the members had split up and now used it on different days. I had advertised it as a venue for your next shindig and gotten no takers, but as it turned out, the room was a moneymaker anyway. Cutting through the game room was a good idea, since we looked like we’d been dragged through a swamp and I didn’t want any customers to see me and ask questions I didn’t want to answer.

  “Why is the door locked?” I asked.

  “Boss’ orders.” Once again, Kelpie’s eyes shot to Fab. “It slows the cops down, and the players like the ‘secret’ entrance off the deck.”

  Some secret, since the entrance was a double set of doors that were clearly visible, inside and out.

  “New employees. Cops. Locked doors,” I said. “Have Doodad schedule an employee meeting. And make sure that Fab gets the memo. Can’t wait to hear everything that went on while I was out of town.”

  “None of it’s bad.” Kelpie winked at Fab, who growled back at her. “It’s all about perception. Everything can have a happy ending.”


  I turned to Kelpie. “I need a drink, and make it a pitcher.”

  “I’ll also take a pitcher and, on the side, a glass full of olives.”

  I looped my arm through Fab’s, and we stuck to the sides of the room as we maneuvered across the packed bar and around the arcade machines, not attracting even a nod. It surprised me to see the ‘Keep Out’ sign on the door to the deck, but I didn’t even pause or knock before opening the door.

  Three sets of eyes stared, as if to say, Can’t you read?

  Creole jumped up, kicking his chair back. “What the heck happened to you?” He checked me over, which I should have been getting used to, he lowered his eyebrows in annoyance while he did it.

  I stepped back from his outstretched arms. “I smell bad.”

  He twirled me around. “You okay?”

  “A very long story that requires refreshments.”

  Didier stood, murmuring, “Cherie…” and drew Fab into his arms despite her protests.

  The shifty fellow turned out to be Help, an undercover friend of Creole’s. He’d kicked back in the corner, doing his best to blend into the woodwork, a smirk on his face. He once told us his name was Stephan and didn’t bother to disguise the lie. Since he’d never ponied up his real name, Fab and I gave him an apt moniker, since he responded to every one of our calls by showing up and offering assistance.

  I chose a chair that was close to the door and could be hosed off, and Creole moved next to me. Fab took Creole’s old chair and sat next to Didier.

  “What the heck happened?” Creole demanded. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Carjacked,” I announced. “No phones.” I held up my hands.

  A knock at the door cut off a response that I knew would match the outrage on Creole’s face, which also matched Didier’s expression. Kelpie stepped outside and set down a margarita in front of me, a martini for Fab, then turned around, and the busboy handed her the pitchers, which she also set down.