Chapter 7

Eve had hired the shady young man to bring her to the parts of the island not normally visited in general, let alone by cute, young American women. Her interviews had been fruitful, as far as Brandon could tell, though her description of them still left him unsure of what her thesis really was. Whether she was here to expose the corruption of American capitalism in the third world or highlight its strengths was of little import to Brandon. Just as he knew his role from the outside looking in was an important part of the overall discourse that made up America (and the world in general) he knew idealistic grad-school students trying to change the world with term papers were a necessary cog in the machine as well. Cultural balance wasn’t about everyone having a tempered world view, it was about having the same number of crazies on both sides. Brandon recognized affluent students raging against the machine of capitalism as hypocritical crazies, sure, but so were patriotic GI Joe wannabes with a cynicism so ingrained they couldn’t hope to change the world if they wanted. Somewhere between the two of them was a societal homeostasis that couldn’t be achieved without both. All of this, of course, was weighed and considered privately inside Brandon’s mind. Outwardly, he was nothing but a sympathetic ear.

“I really can’t thank you enough for stepping in like that,” Eve placed her hand on Brandon’s forearm as it rested on the table, “I’ve never really been the ‘knight in shining armor’ kinda girl…”

“It was nothing, I’m sure he was just trying to be intimidating. Besides, my armor’s not all that shiny,” Brandon looked down symbolically at his old khakis and faded polo shirt.

“Shiny enough,” her eyes locked with his once again. This time Brandon was sure there was more to it than simple gratitude.

“Ah, I’m so happy my best customer finally has someone to talk to. I was getting tired of watching him read newspapers!” Ramon interrupted as he approached the table with two white mugs full of something that certainly wasn’t coffee.

“I like newspapers,” Brandon countered in hopes of saving face in front of the young woman across the table.

“Well with a host like you, I can see why he never felt the need to bring a friend. Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Eve came to his rescue. She scooped the cup up and brought it to her nose, “rum?”

Ramon cleared his throat, “Rum is not simply a drink to some of us in Honduras, it is a way of life,” he smiled broadly once again.

“That’s a sentiment I can get behind, Ramon.” Brandon raised his glass to their host before taking a sip.

“Well, I’m not usually much of a rum drinker, but when in Rome,” Eve brought the glass to her lips.

“Rome?” Ramon asked, apparently the old saying hadn’t infiltrated Central American culture.

“Do as the Romans do… it’s a turn of phrase, or a…” Brandon realized it might be harder to explain than he thought when he’d opened his mouth. Ramon seemed uninterested anyway.

“Well, I will leave you two to talk. There’s work to be done in the kitchen,” Ramon lied. Brandon knew he would be sitting back there quietly in order to give Brandon some time alone with the girl. Ramon was beginning to seem like the sort of guy Brandon would call a friend.

“So you come here pretty often, huh?” Eve nipped the awkward silence in the bud.

“Every day. The coffee’s crap but you can’t beat the atmosphere.” Eve looked around at the dark wood and open windows and smiled.

“No you can’t,” her eyes once again fell onto Brandon’s, “listen… I’m no good at this sort of thing, but I was wondering if you’d like to… um,” Eve’s inability to put her words together was positively adorable. Brandon found himself smiling at her without knowing it, “go to dinner? Or something? I don’t know, I…”

“That sounds amazing, Eve. How’s tonight?” Brandon’s mouth asked without his brain giving permission. Internally, alarms were sounding.

“Tonight is perfect. Have somewhere in mind?” Eve’s smile was bigger than he’d ever seen. Brandon was completely disarmed, incapable of suave response, no hope for charm.

“I have an idea. Can you meet me here at eight?” Brandon’s voice cracked like a twelve year old boy that was too excited to finish his sentence.

“Eight it is. In that case, I’d better finish this rum and get back to my place to clean up. Nobody wants to go on a date with a girl in flip flops.” She giggled. Did she just say date? Brandon didn’t even know what a date was anymore, he hadn’t been on one in years. As far as he could remember, he didn’t even go on any dates with his ex-wife until after they were already together. If it were possible, steam would have shot out from his ears, instead, he simply smiled some more.

“You could come barefoot,” Brandon placed his hand on hers and looked her in the eyes. His face began to flush red as he realized how direct that seemed.

“All the more reason for me to look nice,” she blushed as she responded. Was it possible that she was just as taken as he was? Not likely, Brandon answered his own question, “Jesus, this feels like junior high,” she suddenly laughed and leaned back in her chair. Brandon’s surprise at her shared sentiment left him laughing too.

“I promise to have you home by curfew,” Brandon joked awkwardly. Her laugh didn’t dissipate, probably out of courtesy. They both finished off their rum with a hearty swig and placed their cups back down on the table.

“What do I owe you?” Brandon spoke up so Ramon could hear.

“Rum is for friends, not customers.” Ramon’s face appeared in the door showing off a toothy grin.

“Well then I owe you one, my friend.” Brandon nodded to their host as he stood. He let Eve walk out the open doorway first.

“Well, I’ll see you at eight then?” She stood facing him, close enough that Brandon thought he might be able to smell her hair. She had to look up to meet his eyes and for a second, he thought that maybe he should kiss her. In an instant though, the timing seemed to pass, and he was left instead with only a smile.

“I’ll be here.” He half whispered to her. She leaned toward him and lifted her chin. Brandon nearly panicked, and the internal confusion left him stationary as she gently placed a kiss on his left cheek. He immediately flushed red again.

“Thank you again,” she spoke so quietly that in the bustle of Roatan traffic, Brandon had no earthly right to hear, but the world had disappeared, evaporated from the space around them. As far as Brandon knew, they were the only two people left on Earth, but then, just as quickly as she leaned in, she righted herself, expanding the gap between them to nearly a foot. The world came crashing in between them once more.

“See you at eight,” he couldn’t think of anything else to say before hesitantly stepping to her left and toward his apartment.

“See you,” she cooed and stepped off as well. Brandon stopped three steps later and turned around to watch her float away, like a feather on the breeze… but with a much better butt. His face turned red once again. What the hell am I doing?

Brandon was walking much faster than usual. He had four more hours before he was supposed to meet Eve at Ramon’s which was plenty of time, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the overwhelming need to hurry. Roatan Island was full of small eateries and bars, but there was only one legitimate restaurant. They took reservations, but that was rarely an issue this time of year, but what Brandon had in mind was a bit unusual. It was the kind of thing most people wouldn’t feel comfortable asking perhaps, but lucky for Brandon, the owner of the Skytop had long been trying to convince him that a cruise excursion could be designed around a multiple course meal at his restaurant. It was a terrible idea, but Brandon had always politely suggested that the time wasn’t right. Tonight, the time was perfect.

The Skytop was a stone building designed to resemble a medieval castle. It had one circular tower to the right of the entrance with large windows facing the shoreline the hill overlooked. The interior was decorated like a high scale Olive Garden as far as Brandon could tell, but it was certainly the best décor on the island. The modern glass entrance doors seemed out of place juxtaposed against the fake masonry surrounding it, giving the entire building a bit of an ironic humor, but what Brandon had in mind would dissuade any fears she may have had about its lack of class, or at least he hoped so. He nodded to the hostess as he entered, but passed her without acknowledging her greeting. He was too hurried to realize how rude he’d been, but the hostess had grown accustomed to obnoxious American tourists and seemed to take little offense. He approached the bar and lifted his hand in a gesture to get the bartender’s attention.

“Mr. Webb, a little late for an inspection, isn’t it?” The bartender seemed confused by his presence.

“No inspection tonight, Guillermo. Is Tony in?” Brandon’s hurried delivery gave his statement the air of importance.

“Yeah, in his office. Go on up,” Guillermo replied, his eyes expressing his aching confusion about the situation. Brandon nodded and turned toward the stair case opposite the bar. The interior was better looking than he remembered, Brandon noted, the white walls with brown accents glowed pleasantly in the light provided mostly by candle. The use of vines on some of the decorative pieces still made it look a bit Olive Garden-ish, but it was classier than he gave it credit for. He crossed the floor and took the stairs two steps at a time, but stopped himself. Have some composure. You’re not in sixth grade, he said to himself. He took the last three steps individually before turning right toward a pair of French doors on the right. They were mostly glass, with the same brown painted wood separating the glass into a series of squares. Beyond it, he could see Tony, or rather Antonio as his parents probably called him, sitting at his desk and writing feverishly in a notebook. Brandon’s knock seemed to break him off the trance.

“Come in, come in Mr. Webb!” He yelled louder than necessary as Brandon could probably have heard a conversational tone through the glass doors. Brandon opened only the door on the left and passed through.

“Tony!” Brandon elongated the “y” at the end of his name as he put his hands out wide to his sides, “I’ve come to talk business.”

“Well, Brandon,” using his first name apparently made him feel comfortable calling Brandon by his, “what kind of business do you have in mind?”

“The cruise excursion business, of course.” Brandon smiled and took a seat in one of the two empty leather chairs in front of Tony’s desk.

“My favorite kind!” Tony announced loudly as he spread his arms wide just as Brandon had a moment ago.

“Listen Tony, next month, during the Christmas rush, we’re getting a new ship in… a big ship. Bigger than we’ve ever had,” Brandon began.

“What does that have to do with me?” Tony asked during Brandon’s pause.

“It’s called ‘The Allure of the Sea,’ and it’s the biggest cruise ship ever built. It’s their maiden cruise and they are booked solid. We don’t have enough excursions available for everyone,” Brandon continued.

“So it’s time we added an excursion to the list?” Tony’s smile widened. He leaned back in his chair and touched the tips of his fingers together.

“Maybe it is, Tony. Maybe it is. I could probably help get that ball moving…” This conversation was going exactly as Brandon had hoped.

“But you want money, is that it? Listen Brandon, it’s the off season and…”

“Come on Tony, you know me. I don’t want money, just a favor.” Brandon interrupted.

“Name it,” Tony spoke sincerely. Brandon knew he could ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage and Tony would probably agree.

“Dinner tonight,” Brandon leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on his thighs.

“Excuse me?”

“In the tower. For two. Something special, Tony. I need it special.” Brandon matched Tony’s sincerity.

“Well by God… You’ve found a woman, haven’t you?” Tony’s eyes grew wide and his smile wider, “she must be some broad.” Tony was half Honduran, but in keeping with his restaurant, he tended to force the Italian side down your throat.

“Could be…” Brandon’s eyes drifted downward, he got lost thinking about her eyes for a split second. “So do we have a deal?”

“Oh Brandon,” Tony stood and reached out his hand to shake, “you’re going to have an evening you won’t ever forget.”

“I knew I could count on you, Tony. I’ll have the excursion proposal paperwork on your desk in the morning. All they’ll need is for you to sign.” Brandon stood and returned Tony’s shake, “We’ll be here at nine.”

“We’ll be ready for you.” Tony sat down, smile still broad as the side of his restaurant, “oh and Brandon…”

“Yeah?” Brandon already had his hand on the door knob, he turned to look at Tony.

“Where a suit, would ya?”

“I’ll see if I can dig one up.” Brandon said over his shoulder before slipping out the door.

Brandon was back in his apartment ten minutes later. He started the shower and checked his watch; he still had plenty of time. He’d start by getting cleaned up, then he’d press his backup suit, his best one was still damp with sweat from the night prior. It would be a few minutes before the shower was warm enough to tolerate, so Brandon used that time to shave. He had only developed a day’s worth of stubble, which for him wasn’t all that much, but it still seemed the appropriate thing to do. He plugged his laptop into the outlet near his bed to charge and used the only other one for the iron. He didn’t have an ironing board, but his counter did the job. He wiped and dried it twice before laying the suit down on it. More than once he’d accidentally placed a nice shirt or pair of pants directly into a puddle of spilled scotch. He had no time for such things tonight.

When he was done shaving, showering, and ironing, he still had two hours left before he had to leave. He knew this would happen, but couldn’t help but hurry in his excitement. There was nothing to do now but relax for a bit and wait for time to pass. He looked at his watch again. It was been forty seconds since the last time he checked. He needed a distraction. He sat on his bed and opened the laptop. As always, it took a few minutes to boot up and Brandon used that time to consider options for conversation that evening. He didn’t want to find himself with nothing to say. His concentration was only interrupted by the ding his computer would make when he received an e-mail. Brandon’s heart jumped. What if there was another meeting tonight? What if he had to cancel? It would be a hard sell to get Tony to open the tower again and who could say how Eve would take canceling. He didn’t even know how to reach her. God damn this computer, Brandon thought to himself as he leaned toward it to read the screen. For a minute, he considered ignoring the e-mail. It was a clear violation of regulation, but then again, so was having a girlfriend and that seemed to be what Brandon was working toward, wasn’t it?. What the hell am I planning to do with this girl? Brandon sighed and slumped his shoulders. Of course he would open the e-mail. And if it said to burn his apartment down and camp out on the shoreline taking notes on seashell movements? He’d do that too. He had a crush, a powerful one, but he was what he was. The more you are one thing, the less you can be something else.

He double clicked on the yellow envelope icon. The few seconds it took for the message to open felt like an eternity.

Suspect in custody. Possible threat averted. Return to normal operations until further word.

Brandon smiled and leaned all the way back until his head landed on his pillow. He wondered who must have caught the suspect. Was it an analyst like him? Some other wishful report writer got to live out their James Bond dream? In a way, Brandon was jealous. He had been terrified at the prospect of being the one to have to step up and play the hero, but now that the possibility was gone, he mourned his lost opportunity. Everyone’s a hero in hindsight, he admonished himself. It was easy to wish for that kind of adventure now that there was no threat of it. He shook his head and sat back up, reading the thirteen words on his screen one more time before closing it. Now wasn’t the time for existential crises. Brandon may not ever get to be a hero, but tonight that wasn’t what mattered. Brandon didn’t know what the hell he was doing, didn’t know where he intended to take the possibility of a relationship, didn’t know whether or not Eve really liked him. Brandon didn’t honestly know much of anything.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he felt alive; more alive than he’d felt in a long time.