Bermuda Dreams

Chapter Three

"So get this!" Their host flapped his hand down, inflecting his desire for them to converse in hushed voices. He kept on in a high whisper. "The Saudis have sailed in with a superyacht. The big Dubai. They brought all their bling with them too. Those rich booshi, got a big diamond. It is worth millions! One of our jewelers confirmed the purchase. Our soldiers been tracking its movements ever since. Now GPS has it pinged in Hamilton Harbour. Our mission, get it back. The princes have been here for a few days already, and I've got their cellphones tracked to monitor their movements. They've been leaving the thing at night on their boat, so that's the best time, I think, for you to go in there and steal the bling."

 

"What? That easy!" Tom smiled in sly astonishment. His doubts grew, knowing he could die in this thing. They dealt with Arabs, not mere have-mores on a vacation. Yes, he knew how to fire a gun, rappel from ropes, and swim, LA and a short spell in the Army taught him all these things, but this gig pitted a poor man against another's lavish and possibly militaristic lifestyle. The future seemed more blood red than a golden dream of fortune. Even in his dread, he sought only the fulfillment of promises. "So I get 40 percent cut if I get through all this? If I get you your diamond?"

 

"Yeah, also there's other jobs awaitin', other more easy's for you, you'll be set for life man before you celebrate another birthday. An' you'll be raking in stacks after this one, that's the truth, you got my word!"

 

"And how's do I go about getting onto this bling boat? Doesn't the harbor have gates? Security? I mean, if you got a diamond boat in dock, they's bound to have police everywhere! Big Roy was telling me, you guys do a bunch of jet skiing in the docks, a bunch of hop on, get off, and jump right back on with the booty, cause tha police ah chasin you."

 

"Yeah, that's exactly what you'll be doin', it's the best way, the only way. But you'll be doin' a little more than just jet skiing. They've got radar in the docks. But the swimming easy, man! There's only a few hundred meters of swimming between White's Island and the docks. Big Roy told me you know how to snorkel, so that keeps us straight. Don't worry, I'll have it all ready for you when the time comes, jet skis, snorkel gear, guns, tools. All you have to do is show. You've got my number right? Is my number on your phone?"

 

"Of course. Big Roy's got it."

 

"Cool. Well, gotta get goin'. Have to meet a protegee in Hamilton. But we'll train with my jet ski soon. It's the best there is, even comes with custom brakes! The beast tops off at 80 miles per hour. It runs circles around police boats. The boats don't stand a chance! You'll be taken care of, don't worry. An' security...they've been lax these couple o' weeks. You'll have that diamond and be rollin' in the Benjies in no time!"

 

Dillo's confidence didn't rub off on Tom, it sank in with worries. You're going to die, Tom's thoughts said, but he tried squashing his fears by thinking of good memories spent on his last vacation, when alcohol had kept a fire in his veins, and the euphoria of beaches with their scantily clad women, provided a pleasant solace. No matter what happens, his mind told him, you'll at least have a good time. So he listened to this happiness, gave a nod, his inner drive hungry now to rush out and relive a past.

A slam from the bathroom door, made Tom jump. He flipped around to find Big Roy gone.

 

"Well, I'll see you soon." Dillo left the suite, halting in the hallway with the door still open. "Before I go. I almost forgot to give you these." He dug out keys from his pockets and gave them to Tom. "They're for the scooters parked in the front. You can't miss them, bright blue and bright green. Tell Big Roy the green one is for him."

 

"Yeah, I will." Tom snatched the gifts, his broken smile, a show of thankfulness. He shut the door. Things could only get easier now with scooters. He couldn't wait to hop on his ride.

 

The couch behind him, a deep impress left in its leather by a roomies buttocks, seemed a great respite from a host's tensions. Tom fell into it, pushing himself away from the indenture, and sat on a nearby cushion. He began to recollect his thoughts after the big talk in hopes to regain clarity of his situation. He knew Big Roy wasn't any ordinary thief, but a sophisticated big game opportunist, and he respected this quality about him. To be labeled as a purse snatcher or ring thief, brought dishonor to his family since his pops had only stolen from the filthy rich. In this heist, he would steal a priceless diamond, a difficult task with many dangers, but he knew he owed it to Biggie for help in hard times.

 

The bathroom door flung open, expelling Tom's thoughts in a hail of coughs against whiffs of a stink. Big Roy, his fatty boobs jingling over an enormous belly, stood in the doorway with only a black thong on. He wasn't sporting just casual undergarments, but a piece of fancy with hidden jewel pockets to bypass customs. His hands broke into clapping, as he sang out a melody stuck in his head, all the while strutting his flab with grace and pride about the room. Tom, ready to share in his joy, leaped off the couch and danced to Big Roy's prance.

"What's all we need?" Big Roy threw his hands in the air to worship his haughty chant.

 

Tom knew his roomie's rap, singing out a return. "Diamonds don't grow on trees!"

 

"Diamonds is all tha' bling we need, give it up to my brodie."

 

Tom fell low to the floor, busted a leg slide, then got back up. He didn't want to continue, eager to tell Big Roy about the scooters.

 

"Hey, we got rides tonight! They waitin outside. I'm thinkin' of goin' into town to do some tricks on it!"

 

"No, we goin to the beach!"

 

"At night?"

 

"Yes. Where they at? Lead me out! Lets go."

 

"In yo thong?"

 

Big Roy laughed in reprisal, rushing for the main entry.

 

"Geez, aight." Tom agreed in protest. "But nothin gonna fall on me, for reals, if we get followed by the police, its all on you. They no golf carts, you know, but scooters."

 

"What? You think I cant drive? Lets go!"

 

They left the residence in earnest. Outside the front lawn, scooters awaited them in parking slots. The two jumped on their rides.

 

It took some effort for Big Roy to center his weight in the saddle and find balance, but when he got good, he felt like a new weld to its chassis. With one hand raised in a fist, he dug his key in, got the engine humming, put on the headlamp, and clutched handlebars as the scooter clanked into reverse. The machine took off for a stone gate behind him. Before it hit, he put the bike in drive, and sped away into an alleyway, Tom's scooter at close follow. The passage, carrying them downhill, fell between two-story houses for a wall of shops bottoming a three-way, the same place their bus had dropped them off only moments ago.

 

They cut a left turn onto a two-lane street, hugging its curb, and drove into the quiet walks of a town, their progress flanked by two-story shop fronts under limestone pyramids, a street-lined showcase of cutaways molded out from an island's rock.

 

Tom, hoping to reach their goal before cops beat them, got next to his leader and gestured with a back glance to stay behind him. Big Roy gave an assenting nod, yet as Tom made a pass for the front, noticing on closer inspection his neighbor's nudity, stark and undeniable, he cringed in dismay. If the police began to follow, it seemed inevitable he would be stopped for an offense. Tom wondered if his move had been a good choice until he remembered only a couple more miles of rocky hills separated them from Saint Catherine's Beach.

 

They escaped town and drove up a climb clinging to a stunted embankment with views over a harbor, its waters a shimmering moonlit expanse dotted by masted fleets of phantomlike hulls.

 

Winds blew against Tom's efforts, wet and mild, with a salty taste. It threw punches at the top of a knoll, its blown howl, louder than his engine. He feared tempests would knock him off his bike, but as his headlamp brought to light more houses, and he got further along an enclave of trees, its strength died out.

 

Tom looked over his shoulder to find Big Roy tailing. Happy over his friend's progress, he directed his focus to the roadway ahead, more curvy and dangerous, with twisty turns into rocky outcrops. His bike burst through a bend, emerging quickly to race its straightaway, and then charged down a descent.

 

On the horizon, the stone castle wall of Saint Catherine’s Fort, shadowy and immutable, protruded into the ocean above a stretch of bluish sands. The moon shone overhead and on surrounding seas, reflecting off sparkly in waters, its effects on the beach at a closer glance, leaving it lighter, and more in contrast to its darker encroachments, like an apron left on a charcoal stove.

 

Without heed to a cropping of cedar growths along the shoulder, Tom eased his scooter into them, came to a halt, and cut the engine. The bright ghost of his shutoff headlight burned in front of him, fading out to reveal a beach, sea waves lapping its sands. The grandeur of these night visions, too unreal for his mind to fathom, made him gasp.

 

Before his eyes, a lively masterpiece revealed a baptism. Sandy expanses bounced off moonlight in luminous hues, their darker edges, soaked by tides. The surf rushed in gently to replenish this boneyard, its momentum broken by outlying reefs, and then went forth on filmy washes to dissolve onshore.

 

A honk, blaring through Tom's trance, made him turn around to find a scooter's fiery light on approach. The scooter pulled up alongside him, Big Roy's seated bulk downsizing the chariot between his fatty legs. The giant got off, touching a knee in pain.

 

"Ah it burns! Tha engine on fire. Can't touch the bike, it's burnin' like a stove!" Big Roy's stomping foot caught a rock and he let out a painful yelp."Ow! That hurt my toe, fool! Let's get tha hell off this turf. Beach a-callin', yo. Let's go."

 

Tom returned a mawkish smirk. He knew he couldn't feel sorry for his friend's self-inflicted wounds. Biggie had acted on a crazy whim to romp out here amongst nature in only a thong.

 

Tom got off the scooter, slipped out of his shoes, and dug toes into the sand. The packed earth hit his feet like a pillow, a comfort in contrast to the grit on California beaches. The sensation enticed him to fall flat on his face and sleep amongst its embrace. Bermuda's beach magic had always invited him to slumber. It hid within gasps of awe, pushed invisible pills down his throat, then as the daze set in, tugged him into a stupor, in hopes to prove itself a joke. What kept Tom awake on this night, wasn't the lumbering giant, nearly nude, stomping by, since this presence remained true with the luminosity of moonlight, rather it struck with a manmade blemish in the presence of the lofty stone wall of Saint Catherine’s Fort. The barrier stood as a homage to reality, an assurance to doom. Big Roy's course went straight for this gate and Tom wanted to warn.

 

"Hey, I wouldn't be going too far if I was you."

 

Big Roy turned around to scowl at his onlooker.

 

"And why is that?"

 

"You're headed for prison walls, bro. That warden will be down and after you!"

 

"What? They got nothin' on me, fool. An's if they wanna start somethin', well, it a full moon out! Awoo!" Big Roy howled at the moon. "I'd knock them foes down with my werewolf claws."

 

"Werewolf? Hah! Then why you so afraid as to be running for the sea now, right after I told you they be comin'! You be playin', bro."

 

Big Roy did rush into the sea and got knee-high in the surf. Then, without further adieu, he went further out and dove belly first into wading depths, emerging to the surface afloat on his back.

 

"The waters warm, dawg! You should jump in!" When Big Roy said it, the lunar sheens on the shallows, bouncing off his wet skin, made him appear walrus-like in the darkness.

 

Tom wanted to join, but a sudden flash of lightning, fingering from the sky out at sea, caught his interest. The bolt lit up billowy clouds at lurk on the horizon, burning them bright with a glow, and then after its demise, another scriggly shot straight down into the deep. A peal of thunder rumbled low and afar at them.

 

"Nah, I'd rather stay here." Tom pointed to the spot in the sky where he had seen the lightning. "It a stormin' behind you! You can go out there and get yourself electrocuted, but I'll just stay here."

 

Big Roy, silent, kept afloat on glassy translucence, blending in with his surroundings. To Tom's astonishment, he realized how the sight of his roomie seemed to mimic the multifaceted radiance in diamonds. The lively bobber in the water had become one with glittery gems and his showing in the surf, didn't reveal just a tourist's enjoyment amongst the waves, but to Tom's awakened senses, had shown something more spiritual and ritualistic, an anointment in water. Big Roy had turned himself into a diamond! The transformation struck Tom as a good omen.

 

A breeze blew kisses at the beach, bringing Tom's thoughts back to a windy night spent with Keazah on his last trip. They had walked the sands of Elbow Beach, strands of her long raven hair blowing astray against gusts, and her eyes, brimming full of all the mysteries an evening tide could bring in. He knew he would have to visit Keazah again. Their first date went down in a night club, and on their departure, she had whisked him away to her folk's mansion amongst a posh neighborhood overlooking the southern shores.

 

He wondered if Big Roy would agree to a visit. What if he refused to compromise their plans for him to see an ex-lover? No, he knew nothing stood in the way of a detour since her flat sat in the crossroads of vacation hotspots. Yet how would Biggie react, if Keazah confronted him about bearing a child? It could possibly lengthen their get-together into a father-kid social event, jeopardizing their mission. He hoped for the best, but nothing would deter him from discovering the truth. He would travel there tomorrow and find out.

 

At the line of separation between a pool of gems and its darkness above, another explosion lit up low hanging clouds, revealing a puffy anvil hat, a capping to close-packed storms. The cataclysm didn't only light clouds, it set Tom's fascination afire. Diamonds sprang from fiery impacts with sky and earth, they became eternal from instant bonds, a birth of something new, yet infinite, like ties to a lover.

 

Who would be his diamond for the future, Big Roy or Keazah? He would have to decide.