Troubles in Paradise (Paradise #3)(9)
“So I’ve given up the sex and the drugs,” Dunk says. “And now I’m into the rock and roll.” He points to his T-shirt. “Wasps of Good Fortune is my band.”
“Oh yeah?” Baker says. “What do you do?”
“I sing,” Dunk says. “I have kind of a Colin Hay sound, you know, early-period Men at Work?”
Baker blinks. He’d thought there was only one period of Men at Work, the “Land Down Under” period.
He’s saved from commenting when the alarm sounds and the conveyor belt starts rolling. “Hey, do you guys want to ride over to St. John with me?” Dunk asks. “I have my driver coming, then we’ll hop on my boat.”
“Aw, man, that’s kind of you, but we have so much stuff, it’s just not practical. I’m going to need one of those big taxis all to myself.”
“Just come with me,” Dunk says. “It’ll be way easier. My boat has plenty of room.”
“Okay…” Baker says. “If you’re sure.”
Dunk helps Baker get all the luggage out to the curb, and seconds later, a forest-green G-wagon pulls up. It’s unclear to Baker whether the G-wagon belongs to Dunk or a service he hires, but no matter—it’s cool and comfortable, and Baker is finally able to set Floyd down. The driver delivers them to the dock at Havensight, where they climb aboard a sixty-five-foot Sea Ray Sundancer called the Olive Branch.
“Wow,” Baker says. The boat is brand-new and beautifully outfitted; the salon is all leather and gleaming wood. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers, a bowl of tropical fruit. Dunk opens the fridge; one side is lined with bottles of Veuve Clicquot, the other with beer. Dunk grabs two Heinekens, hands one to Baker, and says, “Let’s go sit in the cockpit. Charlie will have us to Cruz Bay in fifteen minutes.”
Baker kicks back and relaxes in the sun while Floyd sits in the shade of the bimini, still sluggish from his nap. The captain, Charlie, starts the engines and away they go, zipping around the towering cruise ships to open water. They pick up speed and cut a neat seam through the turquoise water to St. John. Baker takes a sip of his beer and thinks: This is my life now. He said goodbye to Ellen outside of IAH just this morning, but it seems like eons ago. If he were back in Houston, he would be getting ready to pick up Floyd from the Children’s Cottage. The two of them would go home, Baker would fix a snack, and then they’d head to the park or playground, or Baker would bribe Floyd with his iPad so that he could continue to trade until the markets closed, and by then it would be too late to go to the park and Floyd would have conked out anyway and Baker would think maybe he’d take a nap too, why not? And when the two of them woke up, the sun would be setting and Baker would start on one of his gourmet dinner menus as they waited for Anna to come home, and when Anna came home, she would say she had already eaten (pizza) at the hospital, and Baker would either throw half the dinner away or carefully pack it into a Tupperware container for Anna to take for lunch the next day, which she would inevitably forget to do and Baker would throw it away out of anger and disgust because his efforts around the house went unappreciated.
He’s so glad he’s not in Houston! He’s so glad he’s no longer with Anna!
Life in the Virgin Islands will be different. After school, Baker and Floyd will go on tropical adventures—to Salt Pond to snorkel with the turtles, to Scoops for ice cream, to the Reef Bay Trail to hike and see the petroglyphs. Even when they simply go home to the villa, they can swim in the dual-level pool or at their private beach. They can play shuffleboard. Baker will invest in field glasses and they’ll bird-watch on the hillside. Irene and Cash are both finished with work in the midafternoon, so one or the other can take care of Floyd while Baker coaches at the school. One or the other will be home at night when Baker wants to take Ayers to Dé Coal Pot or visit her at La Tapa or when they just hang out in Ayers’s studio apartment.
Here in St. John, he has a support system. Here in St. John, he has everything he needs.
The Olive Branch pulls up to the National Park Service dock in fifteen minutes flat. While they tie up, Baker texts his mother and Cash to see if either of them can come get him and Floyd; if they can’t, he’ll have to take a cab to the villa.
“Where do you live?” Baker asks. “We own a villa in Little Cinnamon.”
“I have a villa in the East End,” Dunk says. “I like the quiet.”
Baker nods, though he hasn’t been to the East End. Has he heard of the East End? He’s not sure. It must be special if Dunk lives there.
Dunk points at an island behind them. “That’s Lovango Cay,” he says. “My next project. I bought the island, and now I’m looking for partners to fund a resort, a beach club, and some world-class dining. In case you’re interested?”
Baker laughs. He’s drawn to Dunk, no doubt, but he can’t wait to get away from him. He shakes Dunk’s hand. “Thanks for the ride, man. It was a real treat to meet you. Right, Floyd?”
Floyd shrugs. “You talk funny.”
“Floyd!” Baker says, but Dunk just laughs.
“No worries, mate. You have my card, call anytime, we’ll shoot over to Foxy’s and have a painkiller.”
“All right,” Baker says. “I’ll take you up on that!” He picks up the biggest suitcase and tries to roll it down the dock while holding Floyd’s hand. He needs to check his phone to see if his mother or Cash responded.