linen suit, pink silk T-shirt, beige sandals without socks. A platinum watch with a face the size of a snowball flashed from under his left sleeve. Thick wrists, bristly reddish hair curling up to the knuckles. His face was a full, ruddy sphere atop a soft, seamed neck. Long, thick, coarsely wavy hair the color of dirty brass flowed over his ears and trailed past his collar. Some recession in front exposed a high, domed brow. Sooty puffiness below deep-set hazel eyes gave him a sleepy look. He had a small, straight nose, no upper lip to speak of. But the lower slab was full and moist, and when he smiled at Cheryl his teeth were snowy and perfectly aligned. Strongly built, the slightest suggestion of pot above the waistband of his linen trousers. If he took care of himself, he’d remain crudely handsome for a decade or two. If not, he’d end up a Falstaffian cartoon.
“Cheryl,” said Anita Duke, softly. Her eyes were on me.
“What are you guys doing here?” said Cheryl. “Did you lock the door? I left it open.”
“We had no idea where you were so we locked it, Cheryl. Who’s your friend?”
“Alex. He – I was down on the beach and – he ended up helping me.”
“Helping you?” Anita looked me up and down. Same once-over Cheryl had delivered down on the beach, but this scrutiny was impersonal – flat and suspicious – without the slightest flavor of flirtation. Trained eye accustomed to judging flesh?
The long-haired man had been examining Cheryl’s wet dress. One of his hands began massaging a button of his suit.
“I had a little… trouble,” said Cheryl.
“Trouble?” said Anita.
“No big deal,” said Cheryl. “So… what’re you guys doing here?”
“We dropped by,” said the man. He had a high, nasal voice. Without looking at me, he said, “Doing some diving?”
Cheryl said, “He was boating, Kent. Baxter got a little bit in the water, and he helped me. So I thought it would be nice-”
Anita broke in: “Are you saying Baxter could’ve drowned?”
“No, no. It never got to that point – It’s no big deal, guys. He just got in the water before I could stop him and the waves got a little… I would’ve reached him just fine, but Alex here was passing by, and he was nice enough to jump in, that’s all.”
“Alex,” said the man named Kent. “Sounds kind of exciting-”
Anita Duke shot him a sharp look, and he shut his mouth.
“It was no really big deal, guys,” Cheryl insisted. “You know what a good swimmer Bax is. It’s just that I had Sage on my hands too, and by the time – Alex helped me and I wanted to thank him, so I asked him to come up so I could give him something.”
“A tip,” said Kent.
Anita said, “Well, that’s certainly the gracious thing to do.” To Kent: “Why don’t you show him our appreciation, honey, and then you can see him off.”
Talking softly, but no mistaking the imperiousness. There’s nothing men despise more than being ordered around by a woman in front of another man. Long-haired Kent smiled and dipped his hand into his trouser pocket, but the anger settled around his eyes and his mouth, and he threw it back at me.
A crocodile billfold appeared, and he pulled out a twenty and waved it in my face. “Here you go, my friend.”
“A little more than that, Kent,” said Anita. “After all.”
Kent’s mouth turned down, and his eyes disappeared among fleshy folds. “How much?”
“You be the judge.”
“Sure,” said Kent, forcing a smile. Another twenty joined the first.
“I’d say another,” offered Anita.
Kent’s smile hung on for dear life. Out came the billfold again, and he thrust the sixty dollars at me. “My wife’s the generous type.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “No tip necessary.”
“Take it,” said Anita. “It’s the least we can do.”
“It’s just as she said, no big deal.”
Cheryl said, “Anyway, I need to get the kids inside.”
“I’ll help you with them,” said Anita. “Give me Baxter – he’s always a handful for you.” Stepping forward, she placed her hands around the boy’s rib cage, took him from me, kept her face close to mine. “Let’s make it an even hundred dollars and then you can go, Alex.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’ll go anyway.”
“Oh, dear,” said Anita. Holding Baxter tight, she walked into the house.
Cheryl flashed me a look – helpless, apologetic – then followed.
Kent said, “Let me give you some advice: When someone offers you something, you should take it. Just out of courtesy.” He waved the three twenties.
“Donate it to charity,” I said.
He smiled. “I thought I was – Okay, you’re a stubborn guy. Let’s get you back to your canoe.” Placing a hand on my shoulder. Squeezing a little too forcefully, and when I resisted he dug his fingers in even harder. I freed myself from his grip, and his hands rose protectively. Boxer’s instincts. But still smiling.
I turned and headed back down the pathway. He caught up, laughing, his pink T-shirt spotted with sweat. He wore a strong cologne – orange brandy and anise and some other scents I couldn’t pinpoint. “What exactly happened with Cheryl and Bax?”
“Just what Cheryl said.”
“The kid wasn’t drowning? You just decided to play hero?”
“At the time it seemed the right thing to do.”
“I’m asking because sometimes she gets careless,” he said. “Not intentionally, more like… she doesn’t always pay attention.” Pause. “Did she wave for you or did you just volunteer?”
“I saw the boy out in the water, couldn’t tell he was a good swimmer, and went after him. That’s it.”
“Oh boy,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve rubbed you the wrong way. Sorry, I just wanted to know. For the sake of those kids. I’m their uncle, and more often than not the responsibility falls on my wife and me.”
I didn’t answer.
He said, “We’re talking child welfare here, my friend.”
“I volunteered,” I said. “I probably overreacted.”
“Okay,” he said. “So now I’ve got a straight answer. Finally.” Grin. “You’re making me work, bro.” He wiped his forehead.
We walked to the fence in silence. When we got there he placed his hand on the gate latch. “Look, you did a good deed, I really would like to compensate you. How about two hundred, cash, and we call it a deal? Also, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about this – You live around here?”
“Tell who?”
“Anyone.”
“Sure,” I said. “Nothing to tell.”
He studied me. “You don’t know who she is?”
I shook my head.
He laughed, whipped out the billfold.
I shook my head. “Forget it.”
“You really mean it, don’t you?” he said. “What are you, one of those Samaritan guys? Okay, listen, if there’s anything I can do for you – like if you need some work – do you do construction stuff? Or maintenance? I’ve always got something in development. Did you come from Paradise?”
I nodded.
“The restaurant,” he said. “That’s one of mine – we’re going to turn it into a landmark. So if you need a gig…” He slipped a white business card out of the fold.
KENT D. IRVING
