Authors: Paul Carr
Maybe more than that, but he didn’t want to get into that discussion. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m tired of being shot at and looking over my shoulder.”
“What are you going to do for money?”
“I have some packed away. It should last awhile.”
Jack grinned. “Okay, fine. It’ll be at least a month before I do this, so just think about it.”
“Sure, but don’t count on me changing my mind.”
Jack nodded and blinked a couple of times. “Yeah, well, you mind if I ask J.T. about it?”
“Not at all.”
Jack left and called back a few minutes later. He said he’d spoken with J.T., and J.T. wouldn’t do it unless Sam would.
****
J.T. CALLED the next day to tell Sam about selling the gold.
“I did better than I thought. You can still have your share if you want.”
“No, that’s okay, you keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay...well, I also wanted to apologize about the other day. You know, the stuff I said.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“I guess I felt guilty about running out on you like that.”
“Yeah, well, everybody makes mistakes.”
An awkward silence stretched on for several seconds before Sam said, “Why don’t you stop by and we’ll have a six-pack and catch some fish.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. How about this afternoon?”
****
A FEW days later, Sam and Carling flew to Cancun and stayed three weeks. The sun was hot, the beer and margaritas were cold, and the nights were steamy. Worries about gold on a ditched airplane and a crook named La Salle slowly faded into the tropical sunset. Candi Moran still slow-danced across Sam’s subconscious, but even that happened less and less as the days passed and the surf lapped at their feet.
They returned to Miami the day before the grand opening of the casino. Carling had to get back to the medical business, and Sam wanted to do some work on his boat. He would replace a couple of boards on the rear deck that had gone soft and put on another coat of varnish.
Sam unlocked the hatch, went into the lounge and looked around. Nothing had changed. The place had a musty smell until he turned on the air conditioner and ran it for a few minutes. The invitation lay where he had left it by the phone. He opened it and read it again. Visions of Candi and La Salle hosting the event together caused his stomach to ache. He tossed the invitation in the trash, got a cold beer from the reefer and sauntered out onto the deck in the shade of the awning. The repairs could wait another day.
Sam heard a scream somewhere down the dock, then a rumbling sound that seemed to get closer by the second. He looked around just in time to see Prince Alfred run across the gangway. The dog leapt into the chair next to Sam and barked at him.
Sam grinned. “Hello, little buddy. Where have you been?” He scratched behind Prince Alfred’s ears and the dog barked again.
A teenage girl ran across the gangway and yelled, “Beamer!”
The dog raised an ear.
Sam stood up and the girl gave him an uneasy look.
“Did you see my dog?” She took a couple of deep breaths, winded. “He just ran this way.” Then she noticed the dog sitting in the chair and walked over to him. “There you are. What are you doing here?” She patted him on the head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. This is the second time he’s run away toward this marina.”
“We’re old friends,” Sam said. “I found him in the parking lot of a restaurant a few weeks ago. Jack told me you saw him on the beach and took him home.”
A pelican flew down and perched on a timber nearby. Prince Alfred jumped down from the chair, skipped over to the rail, and sat, so he could get a closer look.
The girl looked past Sam toward the dock. “Mom. Over here,” she called.
Sam turned and saw a woman standing next to the gangway. She was very attractive, with long black hair and lips like ripe plums.
“This is the man who found Beamer.”
The woman smiled, stepped aboard, and reached out her hand. “Hello, I’m Natalie.”
Sam shook her hand and said, “Sam Mackenzie.”
“I can’t thank you enough for watching Beamer. He looked very well-fed.”
“You’re welcome; I’m glad I could help.” Sam glanced at Prince Alfred, smiled, and considered telling them how the dog had saved his life, maybe twice, but decided that might be too much of a story to tell.
They talked for a couple of minutes and Sam offered them drinks, but Natalie said they had to be going.
“I could use a soda,” the girl said and stepped over and sat down on the deck next to the dog.
Sam told Natalie to have a seat, went inside, and brought back two colas. “I brought two, in case you change your mind.”
“Okay, why not.”
They sat in silence for several seconds, and Natalie said, “Well, I’m glad to know why he’s been moping around. He just wanted to see you.”
Sam thought about Amy’s misty eyes when he had told her about Jack letting the girl take the dog from the beach.
“I know someone else who would like to see him, too, if you don’t mind leaving a number.”
She looked at Sam and smiled, like it might be a come-on line, but also like she might not mind him calling her.
“Sure. Beamer’s a good judge of character.”
She pulled a card from her purse and handed it to Sam. The card indicated she worked for a local law firm as an attorney.
“This is my cell number. When I’m not at work, I spend a lot of time taking Christi to her swim class and other activities. I’m a single parent.”
Sam glanced at the card again and wondered how it might be, dating an attorney. His lifestyle might scare her off, but maybe not, and she might even help him out of a legal jam someday. Then the image of Carling floated behind his eyes and the dream faded.
Natalie and Christie left a couple minutes later and Sam went with them to the dock and watched them walk away. Prince Alfred seemed to be perfectly happy to go with them, investigating a skipping mullet along the way. Christi stood on tiptoes to whisper something in her mother’s ear and then turned and grinned at Sam. Natalie seemed embarrassed, but smiled and waved. Prince Alfred turned for one last look and barked.
Sam sauntered back to the deck and leaned on the rail. He called J.T. and told him about Prince Alfred.
“No kidding. Man, that’s great news. That’ll make Amy’s day. She’s mentioned that dog about ten times since the night you told us what happened.”
They talked another minute or so, and Sam ended the call and looked out over the water. The pelican had flown away some time after the dog left. Clouds, like white castles, floated in the sky, and a jet glided overhead on its approach to Miami International. Gulls squawked nearby, fighting over crumbs of bread. Notes from an old rock song drifted on a warm breeze.
He wondered if he could get used to this sort of thing all the time. No more guns, no more close calls, and no more stress. That sounded pretty good. Of course, someone from his past might show up occasionally, and he might have to deal with them. But he could manage that.
If careful with his money, he could live several years on what he had stashed away. Just piddle around the boat, drink some beer, do some fishing, and watch the sunsets. He might start it off by taking a cruise. Maybe go over to Freeport, then down to Nassau, and swing back by the Keys. What could be bad about that? People worked thirty or forty years to get there, and he had a front-row seat.
Just watching those sunsets.
Day after day.
Sam thought about it a few more minutes, got another beer and ambled down the dock to see Jack Craft about that job.