ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE (6 page)

Tiny
let out a low growl as Leon yanked the shoe from
 
his mouth. "Oh
 
yeah? You gonna bite me? That what
this is about? You chew on my new shoes, then threaten
me
? I'll show you
who's
boss!" Picking the dog up, he threw him
with a sickening thud against the wall, knocking a vase of plastic flowers from
a shelf. Tiny’s yelp was followed with a swift kick to the ribs.

Then
he folded his arms across his chest and stared till the
 r
ottweiler
 
lowered his head and sank to his belly
in a show of submission. "That's more like it."

He
turned back to the task at hand: getting ready to go out with that hot Izzie
girl. To say he was surprised such a nice piece of ass would give him the time
of day let alone go out with him was putting it mildly. When he noticed her
outside the house, he’d taken a chance and invited her to go for a drink.

Being
turned down was nothing new for Leon; he expected it. Besides, it wasn’t as if
he was hurting for sex. He could have it whenever he wanted as long as there
was “product” in the house.

When
he saw her the following week looking toward the house as though she expected
something or someone, he decided to take action. With the place to himself for
a few days, there had been no risk of discovery, so he’d decided to chance it.
What did he have to lose? Besides, with Jen gone, that old feeling of emptiness
had set in accompanied by depression. Sometimes it was so debilitating he could
scarcely get out of bed. Maybe he could
stave
it off
by distracting himself with a beautiful woman. It was worth a try.

“Hey
there Babe,” he’d called from the balcony. “You
lookin
’
for me?”
If only.
But then the most surprising thing happened. She’d
smiled and waved. As she started to walk away, he’d called after her, “Why
don’t you make a lonely guy happy and join me for a drink?”

As if
he’d said the magic words, she stopped abruptly and retraced her steps. Looking
up at him with eyes as big as saucers, she nodded and said, “All right. I’ll
have a drink with you, but not in there.” She’d gestured with her head. “You
come out here.”

Emotion,
like an electric current spiked through Leon’s body. “Really? You’ll really
go?” He could’ve kicked himself. What a pathetic thing to say. Maybe she hadn’t
noticed. “Don’t move,” he’d called, “I’ll be right down.”

That
was a week ago. Since then they’d met for drinks several times, gone to the
beach together—he’d even let her come inside the house. It was taking a risk,
that’s for darn sure, but there was no product around. So what could she
discover?

It’s
true she’d asked about the girl she saw several weeks back. She’d seen him yank
Jennifer off the balcony during that parade, but he’d explained it away. Said
his niece was visiting from up north and that she’d been something of a pain in
the ass, wouldn’t do what she was told.

Said
he’d had to get tough with her; that he was afraid she might do something crazy
and then how would he explain it to his sister? Remember the girl in Aruba that
disappeared over spring break? Well, he didn’t want something like that
happening to his sister’s kid. No
siree
, not while
she was under
his
roof.

He’d
been so smooth, the way he’d explained it that she bought it. You could tell by
the way she nodded and looked at him with something like respect. Nobody’d ever
looked at him like that.

Seymour’d
be so proud.
Not that he’d tell the sonofabitch. If he did, the man would go off on
him for striking up a friendship with anyone—let alone someone like Izzie. And
if he ever found out she’d been inside the house, well, there’d be a bullet
with Leon’s name on it—no doubt about it.

Jackson stood next to his mom and brother as the
priest said a final prayer over the casket. He’d arrived too late. His dad had
died two hours before the plane landed.

Now, having helped with the wake and funeral, he
felt numb, and somewhat conflicted. On the one hand, he’d truly wanted to help
his father, even if it meant donating a portion of his liver. On the other, he
was relieved it hadn’t gone that far.

He loved his dad, but watching him kill himself a
little with every drink wore him down. Not to mention the guilt for having
abandoned his mom to deal with it all. The effects were written like a map
across her face, making her look older than her years.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, he
wondered if, with Dad gone, she’d be able to find some peace. Or would Zac
replace him as yet another burden for her to carry? Resolving to speak to her
about it before returning to Tampa, Jackson went back to the car and got
inside.

****

It was after six when the last of the neighbors
finally departed. Every available space in the kitchen was covered with
leftovers: casseroles, salads, sliced ham, chicken breasts, deviled eggs, soups
and a variety of baked goods. There was more than enough food to feed them for
a week, maybe longer.

Grief, in combination with the sickening array of
food, nauseated Jackson. “What a mess.”

His mother, looking spent, started to pick up a
dish.

“Mom, lie down.
Me
and
Zac’ll
clean up.” Jackson gave his brother a meaningful
look.

Zac’s plate was piled high, his cheeks bulged.
Unable to speak, he nodded, although his expression said he was none too
pleased.

“You sure? Three sets of hands would make the
work go faster.”

“We can handle it, Mom. You go lie down,” Jackson
assured her. After she’d gone upstairs, he got to work wrapping leftovers and
piling the dishes while his brother continued to stuff his face.

“How about you start washing dishes while I find
some place to store this stuff?” Jackson said over his shoulder, as he pulled
the refrigerator door open.

“When did you become the boss of me?” Zac
swallowed his last bite of chicken.

“What? No. I didn’t mean to…” Jackson knew it was
hopeless. Zac had been itching for a fight since he arrived. This was the first
opportunity he had and it was clear he wasn’t about to let it pass.

“I know. You’re the hotshot cameraman, working
for a big Florida TV station while I’m a loser. You don’t have to say it. I’ve
heard every day from Mom and Dad how I, as the older brother, should’ve made
something of myself and what an embarrassment I am. Oh really? What about Dad?”

When Jackson didn’t take the bait, Zac thumped
him on the back causing him to spill a bowl of baked beans on the floor.

“
Watta
slob. Didn’t
they teach you nothing down in Flor-
ee
-day,
lil
’ bro?” He took another pull on the beer bottle and let
out a loud belch. “Well, sonny boy, you offered to clean up this pigsty, so
have at it. I’ve gonna take me a little nap.” With that he left the room.

While there was a lot of cleaning to do, Jackson
was relieved. A big fight with Zac was the last thing he wanted. Grabbing a
roll of paper towels and the trash can, he began cleaning up the gooey mess.

****

“Mom, how about going back to Tampa with me?”
Jackson sat in the family room watching the news with his mother. Zac had gone
out—whereabouts unknown.

After a few moments of silence, she said, “Oh
honey, how thoughtful of you to ask, but as much as I’d dearly love to go, I can’t.
There’s too much to do here, plus I have my job and all.” She paused, then
added, “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Zac? He could use a change of
scenery, and it’d give the two of you a chance to spend some time together.
What do you think?”

She hadn’t come right out and said it, but
Jackson could read between the lines: It would give her a badly needed break.

Before he had a chance to protest that he
couldn’t afford to pay his brother’s airfare, she interjected, “I have some
money saved up—enough for his airline ticket, food and a little left over for
fun. What do you say?”

What
could
he say? Jackson nodded with a
sense of dread that nearly choked him.

“I can’t wait till your brother gets home.” She
fairly bubbled over with excitement. “He’ll be thrilled.”

“Son of a bitch! Why’d she have to go and ruin
everything?” Leon slammed his fist on the table, making dishes jump and
splashing coffee onto his clean shirt. “Damnit,” he shouted, glancing furtively
around the room for Tiny, who’d wisely made himself scarce. “Now
what’m
I gonna do?”

Leon couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned.
Seymour’d
told him more than once not to go messing with
the “locals”; that considering the “business” they were in, it was too risky.
And had he listened? No-o-o, Leon knew better than his scumbag of a boss. Sure
he did—and look where it’d gotten him—in a big fat mess, that’s where.

Everything had been going along just fine. He and
Izzie were hitting it off. He couldn’t believe his good fortune: Walking on the
beach with a beautiful girl at his side made him feel like a real man—not just
some hood who’d spent his life doing things he was ashamed of.

Izzie was a woman who made you want to straighten
up and fly right, as his old man used to say. She made him want things other
people took for granted: a home, maybe even some rug rats running around. How
about that? Well, why not? It wasn’t so farfetched. Guys with less going for
them managed to do that. Yes, he had to admit he’d begun to dream of a future
for himself, even started trying to figure out how to get out from under
Seymour and his cronies. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible—or so he’d
begun to think, until the next shipment arrived and Izzie began to ask
questions.

At first he’d simply changed the subject and kept
her away from the house. That worked until the day she showed up unexpectedly
and saw the latest product—a young girl from out west who was in the middle of
a meltdown. Tiny was barking and the brat was demanding that he let her go. He
had his hands full trying to control the situation. Then Izzie had put in an
appearance and all hell broke loose.

Zac was sprawled out on the couch watching a
NASCAR race when Jackson walked in, balancing several bags of groceries in his
arms.

“Oh, hey bro,” Zac said, his eyes still glued to
the screen.

“Hey,” Jackson grunted. He set the bags on the
pass-through counter and went back to the car to retrieve the rest. Annoyance
wormed its way into his psyche. So this is what he had to look forward to for
the next few weeks: his brother lying around while he did all the work. No
surprise there. Mom had put up with Zac for years.

By now Jackson’s anger had reached a boiling
point. Mom had paid for Zac’s trip, even giving him money for food. Jackson
provided a place for him to stay. And Zac? He just lay there like a damned
lump.

When he got back to the third-floor apartment and
saw that the grocery bags remained on the counter with Zac glued to the TV,
Jackson could no longer contain his anger.

Setting the remaining sacks down, he turned and
said, “So I guess it didn’t occur to you to put the food away?”

Zac looked up as if awaking from a dream. “I’m
sorry bro. If you wanted me to do that you should have asked.” With that he
leapt to his feet and began to pull items from the bags, setting them down
willy-nilly. “
Wanna
tell me where you want this stuff
or should I just guess?”

The kitchen in Jackson’s apartment was
galley-style leaving little room for more than one person in the space at a
time. With Zac next to him, neither could move, much less carry cans and boxes
of food from the counter to its intended spot.

Zac stared Jackson in the face awaiting his
answer.

“That’s all right,” Jackson said. “I’ll do it.”

“No, you wanted help, so I’m helping.”

Jackson could see the determination in his
brother’s face. He knew that expression: It said, “You
wanna
rumble? Let’s have at it.”

Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough for
Jackson. Three days of Zac’s laying around and complaining was three too many
as far as he was concerned.

“So you’re gonna leave me stranded with no way to
get around?”

Zac’s voice startled him. He’d assumed his
brother was still asleep on the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? What am I supposed to
do around here all day with no wheels?”

“I don’t know, Zac. Maybe watch TV?” Hoping Zac
wouldn’t hear, he added under his breath, “Like you’ve been doing since you got
here.”

“Seriously, how about you let me use your car?
I’ll drop you off and you can get a ride home with one of your fancy reporter
friends.”

Jackson’s blood began to boil. Was there no end
to Zac’s demands? He comes here on Mom’s dime, lays around doing absolutely nothing,
gets argumentative if he’s asked to do even the slightest thing and now has the
nerve to suggest Jackson loan him his car and find his own way home from work.

“Look, buses will take you most anywhere you want
to go, or, hey, I have an idea: walk. The
exercise’ll
do you good.”

Zac threw his arms up. “Fine. You don’t have to
go all postal. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Jackson looked at the wall clock. “I gotta get
going or I’ll be late. See you tonight.”

****

“Oh, good, you’re back.” Morris Stone looked up
from a document he was reading. “Sorry about your dad. How’s your mom holding
up?”

Jackson nodded and swallowed as emotion
unexpectedly surged, making speech difficult. “She’ll be all right.” He was
going to add that Zac had come back with him, but thought better of it. The man
didn’t look especially interested in his personal life.

“By the way, you’ll be on your own today.”

Jackson’s forehead crinkled.
On his own?
“Izzie
taking the day off?”

“Days off, you mean. We haven’t seen or heard
from her since the middle of last week. It’s a damned shame. That girl had
potential, if she
coulda
got her mouth under
control.”

 At first, Morris’ words confused Jackson.
As he took in their meaning, he was stunned. “Are you saying Izzie’s been
fired?”

“Well, duh. What do you suppose we
should
do
with a reporter who fails to report for work? Doesn’t even give us the courtesy
of a phone call to tell us whether she’s sick or quit. We’re not running a
day-care center here, you know, and it’s not too much to expect our people to
act like professionals. Wouldn’t you agree?” He squinted at Jackson.

“Yes, but did anyone check to see if she’s all
right?”

“Of course. Look, don’t worry about it. Snotty
girl like that? Thinks the world owes her a living. I see it all the time.
Pretty girl thinks she’s going to be a movie star or a news anchor. Never
occurs to her she’s a dime a dozen. I’m not wasting any tears on her—and
neither should you. Now get to work. The stories are pretty routine. All we
really need is some footage. I’ll pair you up with somebody in a few days. Oh,
and Jackson, glad to have you back.”