Before I see a free hand truck, I see a girl volunteer pirate who I’m not familiar with. She has a nametag that says Lila and a shirt that says ask me.
That gives me an idea. So I ask her. “Hi, Lila. I’m lost. Can you point me back to the Tortuga area?”
She nods and pulls the phone out of her back pocket. Then she taps up the information. “Okay, Tortuga is in area black, thirteen.” She points across the room and to the right.
“Thanks, Lila. You’re a lifesaver.” Damn. According to the map I saw posted earlier, black thirteen is the best spot. It’s in a prime spot in the corner. Figures.
Lila smiles at me and then cocks her head to the side.
“What?” I ask.
“Aren’t you going to go to black thirteen, it’s over there?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “Just grabbing a few supplies first. Thanks for the help.”
I re-enter the supply area.
“Um, did you forget something?” Fi asks.
“Huh?”
Kaylee squints at me. “You know, the hand truck? The one you went to find?”
“Oh yeah, listen guys. I figured out where Tortuga’s float is. Black thirteen.”
“Of course,” Fi deadpans, “because you think Jake’s going to help us carry the supplies?”
“No, so we can sabotage his float.”
“Okay,” Kaylee says, “that makes a lot more sense. For a minute there, I thought you were actually looking for him or something.”
“Are you insane?”
Kaylee holds up her hands. “Hey, I just admitted sabotage makes a lot more sense. And it’s a lot more pirate-y too.”
Fi smiles broadly. “Black thirteen you say? Damn, that’s a very good location.”
“I know, right? Stupid Jake gets all of the cool things. He deserves a little sabotage. And tonight is perfect because it’s the first night and there’s barely anybody here.”
So the three of us leave our stacked-up supplies in the warehouse and venture out onto the main floor to find black thirteen. It’s in the corner, and Jake’s not there. Nobody is. The perfect crime.
We poke around, but they haven’t started yet, so there’s not much to sabotage.
“Oh, I know,” Fi pulls a small bottle of perfume out of her purse. “I’ll stuff this tiny glass bottle into their flat bed. There. You can hardly see it. They’ll be walking around placing things and boom. An anti-stink bomb. They’ll smell fabulous. That’ll show them.”
I stare at her for a moment.
She shrugs. “Hey, it’s all I’ve got.”
“Then it works for me,” I say with a grin.
The rest of the night goes well. We get our supplies and start the building process. And the best part is there was no sign of Jake.
Chapter 17
Jake
In the end I decide to go to the Pirate Festival Ball with Emma, the doctor's office receptionist who wrote her name on the back of the business card.
She answers on the first ring. I'm pretty sure I hear her squeal on the other end of the line before she says yes.
Sure, I'd rather have gone with Angie, but she's so damn stubborn. I'm not sure if it makes me love her more or if I want to punch her in the arm. Probably both.
Either way, I pull up to the beautiful Cairn Event Center and hand the keys to my black Escalade to the valet, who's face brightens when he sees me.
"Jake Mann!" He takes my keys and holds up his hand hoping for a fist bump.
"Thanks, man," I tell him as I fist bump him back. It's corny as hell, but I get it. I was as starry eyed as can be when I first went into the league. Hell, I was star struck by the upperclassmen at my college who were on their way into the league.
I didn't know for sure that I would follow in their footsteps, but I always hoped. I'm happy to pay things forward any way I can.
Then I hold out my arm for Emma and we go inside. The Cairn Center is a beautiful ocean-front, pre-colonial historic mansion.
It belonged to Malachai Herdstrom, one of the founders of St. Tropic. The Pirate Festival began just before he was born and he spent his life obsessed by pirates. As he grew up the festival waned in interest and community involvement.
When old Malachai hit it rich, in ways that have never fully been revealed to the public, he vowed to make the Pirate Festival a St. Tropic cultural centerpiece. And he did.
After he passed, he left a lot of the festival mainstays and the cottage mansion to the city on the condition that they be used every single year for the festival without fail, or they would immediately revert back to the squabbling heirs and grandkids who were for now busy fighting each other for a supposedly buried treasure.
And there’s no way in hell the mayor of St. Tropic is ever going to let that happen.
And just in case one thought there was ever a dull moment in St. Tropic, the new owner of the mansion is technically Malachai's pet monkey, Shark. Yes, the Pirate Festival Ball will be hosted by a monkey in a suit.
Emma and I cross the wooden porch decorated to look like a plank that leads to the entrance doors so that we can be officially announced into the Ball, one of the premier events of the year.
Inside, everything is decorated for the occasion with mini cannons on every table, pirate hooks and hats and doubloons stacked on every surface and hanging from the ceiling. As far as balls go, at least this one is not stuffy.
As I look around, everything is as I remember. The rum is tasty and plentiful, the snacks are top notch, and the glass doors in the back of the room are thrown open to the gigantic back porch that overlooks the sea.
Emma stops as we pass a table that has doubloon party favors stacked up on it. "Aw, these are adorable," she says, picking one up.
"Uh-oh, look out, Emma, it's
