that. We’ve gone too far and too fuckin’ long together,” Jackie said, grabbing Ronnie by his shirt, “for you to believe some shit like that. Come on. Let me take you home.” Jackie pulled Ronnie’s arm. He jerked it away.
“I can walk,” Ronnie said, stumbling off the barstool.
“Yeah, just not straight.” Jackie laughed.
“All I know is that nigga ain’t right, and if he ever come back, we gotta watch him.”
Even though he was tired, Travis still couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned all night, only drifting off to sleep for a while before waking up again to look at the clock. At 7:00 a.m., Travis was back in the car. He had breakfast at a nearby IHOP then headed for Miami.
As soon as he arrived in Dade County, he called Pete’s charter service. Unfortunately for Travis, the woman who answered the phone said that Pete wasn’t available and wouldn’t be until the next day. “Do you want to leave a message for Pete?” the woman asked.
“No.”
After getting the address and directions, Travis continued his ride south on I-95 and got off at Biscayne Boulevard. He checked in at the Riande Continental, the hotel where he usually stayed when he was in Miami. Once he was satisfied that his money was secure, he changed his clothes and walked across the street to the Bayside Marketplace.
He went to the Latin Grill, which featured Cuban style cuisine. He sat alone enjoying a zesty Palomilla steak while he contemplated his situation. Finally, Travis began to relax. He recognized that if he continued to make decisions in his current state of mind, he would make the kind of mistakes that would get him caught. He convinced himself that there really was no need for the panicked state he was in. With a clearer head, Travis realized that this trip was going to take longer than he thought it would.
After he finished his steak, Travis wandered around the marketplace and picked up a few things to wear in the Caymans. As he was passing the Silver Palace, a necklace caught his eye. He went in and bought it for Me’shelle. He stopped in The Hard Rock Cafe, then Fat Tuesday’s, and had a drink in each before ending up at Sharkey’s. While he was there, Travis met, and had a very interesting conversation with an attractive Hispanic woman named Marita, who was having drinks at the bar.
As he was getting ready to leave, Travis told Marita that he was staying at Riande Continental. He gave her the room number. “If you’re not doing anything later this evening, stop by,” he told her.
He started to go back to his room to relax but ended up at a strip club called Black Gold on Biscayne Boulevard. Once that grow old, Travis headed back to his room and called Me’shelle. They had been on the phone talking for over an hour. Travis told her that he had gotten her a souvenir and would give it to her over dinner when he returned to New York.
“Thank you, Travis. You know you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to. As soon as I saw it, I thought that you would like it.”
“Oh, really? What is it?”
“It’s a surprise,” Travis said.
“Well, that will give me something to look forward to.” Me’shelle paused. “Along with dinner,” she said quickly.
“For a minute there I thought that you were looking forward to seeing me,” Travis said, hearing the smile in her voice.
“Maybe just a little. I like talking to you. I don’t think that I’ve ever enjoyed talking to somebody as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”
“Well, Me’shelle, the feeling is mutual.”
“Well, Travis, I’m going to say goodnight now,” Me’shelle said.
“Do you have to hang up now?” Travis said just as a he heard a knock at his door. He had a good idea who it was. “But I understand that you have to mold young minds in the morning, so I’ll let you go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” The knocking continued and got louder.
“Okay, Travis.” Me’shelle yawned. “Good night.”
Travis hung up the phone and went to open the door. He swung the door open and as he expected, Marita stood before him.
“Can I come in?”
Chapter Fourteen
At 9:00 the next morning, Travis had said goodbye to Marita, checked out of the hotel, and was standing in a used car lot. The dealer looked over the Thunderbird and offered Travis a thousand dollars for it. “Sold,” Travis said then signed over the title. He thought it best that he get rid of the car just in case the police reviewed the tapes of the parking lot and were looking for his car.
He caught a cab to Pete’s charter service and went inside. He approached the man behind the counter. “What can I do for you?” Pete said with his typical
“I’m looking for Pete,” Travis said
“That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“Mike Black sent me. I need to charter a plane to the Cayman Islands.”
Pete looked at Travis strangely, then it hit him. “Oh yeah, Mike Black,” Pete said when he remembered who Mike Black was and how Angelo Colette said to treat him. “You tell Mr. Black that I’ll be more than glad to take you there.”
“He’ll be glad to hear that,” Travis said, laughing to himself because Mike Black wouldn’t know him from a can of paint.
“When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Any cargo going or comin’ back?”
“Just my luggage.”
Pete looked strangely at Travis again, wondering how these niggers made money. Trips of this sort were usually in and out, coming back with cargo.
“No.” Travis thought for a second or two before instructing, “Come back for me on Friday morning if that’s not too much trouble.”
“No problem.” He told Travis his fee, and Travis paid in cash. Pete counted the money twice. “Have a seat. I’ll come get you when the plane is gassed and ready for takeoff.”
Once the plane landed at the airport in George Town, Grand Cayman Island, Travis asked Pete if he knew someplace nice where he could stay. “Naw,” Pete said. “I don’t know a place to stay here.” Travis took a look at Pete in his beat-to-shit flight suit and his two-day growth of beard, and wasn’t surprised. “Wait a minute. I do know of a place. It’s called The Pools. It’s in Kaibo in Rum Point on the north side of the island. They got them beachfront condos out there. I flew a business exec down here a couple of months ago. Older guy, probably cheatin’ on his wife. Anyway, that’s where him and his little chippie stayed. She was a one of them high-class pretty blond gals. So I figure it must be someplace nice.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out, Pete. I’ll see you Friday morning.”
After a lengthy ride around the coastal areas of Grand Cayman Island, the taxi driver made it to Rum Point. The cab pulled up in front of The Pools. Travis was very surprised and very impressed. He wasn’t expecting much from Pete’s referral of someplace an old man visited with his mistress. He went inside and the clerk described the property.
“The Pools feature fully furnished and smartly equipped one bedroom, one bath vacation properties. Our rooms are specifically designed with a private screened pool on your lanai, with ultra large sliding doors that fully open up the bedroom, living area and kitchen to a magnificent view of the beach and North Sound. You are about fifteen steps from the pool to the warm, relaxing water and soft, sandy white beach. It is located on the very end of The Pools development, making for a very private setting. Your room will be shaded under palm trees, and enjoys
