CHAPTER

Forty

Tony stood at the water's edge, a Banks beer in one hand, while the other shielded his eyes against the bright rays of the setting sun.

There were still a few tourists on the beach, slowly gathering their belongings as they prepared to make their way back to their rented beach homes and hotel rooms to prepare for dinner.

He waved to them as they moved past him. Most he knew by name. Some of the newer faces he would know by the week's end.

Tony was the man they all had to come to sooner or later.

He owned three of the fastest personal watercrafts on the island: Matlock 6000s—illegal to operate on the island of Barbados, but he'd paid off the right people and so it had cleared customs quicker than a soda through a straw.

A week into his operation and he was being harassed by a few of the guys who were angry due to all of the business Tony had stolen away from them. Again, Tony greased a few official palms, some threats were made, a few heads were cracked, and that was the end of that.

Now Tony was king of the beach. Or at least that's the way he felt.

“Is that it?” A tall, coal-colored fellow with blond locks and gold teeth strolled up beside him.

“Yeah, that's it for the day.”

The man was born Miguel Braithwait but went by the nickname Bon Jovi—Bon for short.

It seemed to Tony that everyone on the island had a nickname; no one seemed to be known by a birth name.

Bon owned a Toyota 4×4, which he used to tow boats and Jet Skis. He also had a large backyard where he stored cars and Jet Skis, all for a fee.

Bon stared out at the now dark blue horizon. “Good day?”

“It's always a good day in Bimsha.” Tony laughed and slapped Bon hard on his bare back.

Bimsha, Little England . . . Barbados itself had a number of nicknames. He loved being back home, loved the bright sun-filled days and the long, dark, warm nights. It was a sexual place filled with brazen, beautiful wide-hipped women, and men gathered outside the rum shops arguing about who had the biggest dick and how many virgins they'd slain in their lifetime.

Tony had been on the island for two months. The house he had started to build wouldn't be ready for another six to nine months, so he was renting a small two-bedroom, two-bath bungalow in Paynes Bay, across the street from the beach.

Life was good. Shit, life was great!

He had fresh food, clean air, and more women than he knew what to do with.

Now as he stood on the beach, the warm water lapping at his toes as the first few stars made their appearance in the dark sky, he felt untouchable. Invincible. He felt like God himself.