CHAPTER

Forty-six

Hey, Errol, what's going on, man!” Tony sang joyfully into his cell phone.

“Nothing much. How's the king of Barbados doing?”

“Well, you know, what can I say? I'm doing my thang!”

“I hear that.”

“So when are you coming down?”

“I'm thinking maybe around Christmastime, but I'm not sure yet.”

“That would be the perfect time. You know the island will be popping for sure then, lots of fetes.”

“Lots of what?”

“Fetes, man . . . parties.”

“You've really gone full-blown coconut, huh?” Errol teased.

“And you know that. So how's things in the Big Apple?”

“Same old, same old, ya know. The grind and the rhythm.”

“Yeah, man, and I got tell you, I don't miss the grind or the rhythm.”

“Man, you hit the jackpot. Getting an office job like that on an island.”

“So, listen—this call is costing me a fortune, so I gotta hop,” Tony said.

“You know you can afford it, you cheap-ass Negro!”

“Yeah, whatever—I'll e-mail you.”

“Stay tight,” Errol said before he hung up.

Tony stuck his cell phone into the plastic protective case around his neck. He was headed to the Blue Monkey for an afternoon snack and a drink. Business was dead today. It was October—hurricane season—and so the rain had been coming down in short but torrential intervals all day long. At the moment, though, the sun was peeking out from between a mass of rain clouds.

Tomorrow would be a better day. The weatherman had called for clear skies, and for the icing on the cake, a cruise ship would be coming in. For Tony that meant at least a $1,500 day.

“How are you?” the pretty brown-skinned bartender welcomed him. “What can I get for you today?”

Tony grinned. Donnette had legs that went on for miles, and when they did end they rounded out into an ass that was as firm as a basketball. “You,” Tony said, leaning over the bar. “Every day I tell you that you can get me you, and all you do is bring me a bottle of Banks beer and a plate of grilled mahimahi and french fries.”

Donnette batted her long black lashes at him. “Well, I bring you that because I know that's all you really want,” she said with a sly smile as she set the Banks down before Tony.

Tony lifted the bottle and drank deeply as he watched her strut off.

He wanted her; there was no denying that.

She was fine as hell and had a shape to die for, but the downside was that she'd been with most of the men on the coast. Passed around more times than a peace pipe, and who knew what she'd contracted.

And he was trying to change his ways. Not to say that he was denying himself—he just wasn't overindulging.

He had behaved like a kid in a candy store when he'd first arrived. Errol had warned him to be careful, reminding him of the large number of HIV cases the island carried. And for once, Tony actually heeded his words and took it down two notches.

He wanted to be around for a long time. He wanted to enjoy the fruits of his labor, and how could he do that if he was dead?