hadn’t plunked down a nickel for the trip. The man he was supposed to be meeting had insisted he come.
The Navy admiral had at first refused, citing work as an excuse, when in reality he really just couldn’t picture himself on the impoverished island. Although he didn’t come from money, Gower appreciated the things that money bought. He believed America was a shining example of that fact. Go to most U.S. metropolitan areas and you’d find clean streets and a safe place to live and work. It was one of the reasons he’d gone into the service, to preserve that way of life.
He had friends who paid ungodly amounts of money to visit places like Africa, Haiti and Vietnam. Gower had always preferred to stay in the continental U.S., enjoying the luxuries his service to his country had bought.
But then he’d mentioned the proposed trip to his current girlfriend Nancy, a fifty-year-old administrative assistant who worked at the Pentagon. She was attracted to his position and he, well, he was attracted to the prospect of an occasional roll in the hay. The trip was all Nancy had talked about for the last week. He was sure it would lead to much hay-rolling.
Their names were called and a porter led them out to a waiting oversized van as he pushed a cart overflowing with luggage. Once he’d ensured his own bags were tucked neatly in the back of the vehicle, Gower boarded the mini-bus that was thankfully blasting cold air from overhead vents. He sat down next to Nancy, who was gabbing away with another middle-aged woman a row back. He smiled and tried to seem sociable, but was glad when they started moving as it turned Nancy back to the task at hand.
Her hand rested on his leg and he briefly imagined her topless.
“Aren’t you excited, Joe? I swear if I hadn’t stopped by the ladies’ room that I might just pee in my pants.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Only the best for you.”
She kissed him on the cheek and then turned to look out the window with wonder. Gower imagined what she must be seeing. All he could take in was the contrast to the U.S. It reminded him of the couple times he’d visited Tijuana as a brand new Navy ensign. Trash littered the streets and natives just seemed to be hanging out for no better reason than they had no other place to be. There were even multiple signs advertising personal security services as they drove away from the airport. What did that say for the state of the small island nation? Gower was glad they’d soon be ensconced in an all-inclusive resort.
An hour later, they were over halfway to their destination in Ocho Rios. The driver asked his passengers whether they’d like to stop to use restrooms up ahead.
“Discovery Bay is just up the hill,” he announced. “It is where Christopher Columbus first discovered Jamaica.”
There were impressed murmurs from some of the other passengers, but Gower wanted to roll his eyes. He resisted the urge and raised his hand instead.
“I wouldn’t mind stopping for a quick bathroom break,” he said.
There was a barely concealed groan from someone in the back, but he ignored it.
The request didn’t dampen the driver’s spirits. “All good, mon. One minute.”
Two minutes later, Gower stepped off the bus and made a bee-line for the restroom. After relieving himself, he took a circuitous route back to his ride and found a spot overlooking Discovery Bay. It was nothing too impressive in his opinion. They’d made sort of an open-air museum in tribute to Columbus’s landing, complete with a replica wooden ship’s bow that allowed visitors to take in the view of the bay below.
He made his way there and was soon joined by another man who seemed consumed with taking pictures of the vista.
Without stopping what he was doing, the man said, “Look on the ground against the wooden railing.”
Gower did as instructed and found a small brown paper shopping bag. He picked it up and inspected the contents. There were a
The Navy admiral had at first refused, citing work as an excuse, when in reality he really just couldn’t picture himself on the impoverished island. Although he didn’t come from money, Gower appreciated the things that money bought. He believed America was a shining example of that fact. Go to most U.S. metropolitan areas and you’d find clean streets and a safe place to live and work. It was one of the reasons he’d gone into the service, to preserve that way of life.
He had friends who paid ungodly amounts of money to visit places like Africa, Haiti and Vietnam. Gower had always preferred to stay in the continental U.S., enjoying the luxuries his service to his country had bought.
But then he’d mentioned the proposed trip to his current girlfriend Nancy, a fifty-year-old administrative assistant who worked at the Pentagon. She was attracted to his position and he, well, he was attracted to the prospect of an occasional roll in the hay. The trip was all Nancy had talked about for the last week. He was sure it would lead to much hay-rolling.
Their names were called and a porter led them out to a waiting oversized van as he pushed a cart overflowing with luggage. Once he’d ensured his own bags were tucked neatly in the back of the vehicle, Gower boarded the mini-bus that was thankfully blasting cold air from overhead vents. He sat down next to Nancy, who was gabbing away with another middle-aged woman a row back. He smiled and tried to seem sociable, but was glad when they started moving as it turned Nancy back to the task at hand.
Her hand rested on his leg and he briefly imagined her topless.
“Aren’t you excited, Joe? I swear if I hadn’t stopped by the ladies’ room that I might just pee in my pants.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Only the best for you.”
She kissed him on the cheek and then turned to look out the window with wonder. Gower imagined what she must be seeing. All he could take in was the contrast to the U.S. It reminded him of the couple times he’d visited Tijuana as a brand new Navy ensign. Trash littered the streets and natives just seemed to be hanging out for no better reason than they had no other place to be. There were even multiple signs advertising personal security services as they drove away from the airport. What did that say for the state of the small island nation? Gower was glad they’d soon be ensconced in an all-inclusive resort.
An hour later, they were over halfway to their destination in Ocho Rios. The driver asked his passengers whether they’d like to stop to use restrooms up ahead.
“Discovery Bay is just up the hill,” he announced. “It is where Christopher Columbus first discovered Jamaica.”
There were impressed murmurs from some of the other passengers, but Gower wanted to roll his eyes. He resisted the urge and raised his hand instead.
“I wouldn’t mind stopping for a quick bathroom break,” he said.
There was a barely concealed groan from someone in the back, but he ignored it.
The request didn’t dampen the driver’s spirits. “All good, mon. One minute.”
Two minutes later, Gower stepped off the bus and made a bee-line for the restroom. After relieving himself, he took a circuitous route back to his ride and found a spot overlooking Discovery Bay. It was nothing too impressive in his opinion. They’d made sort of an open-air museum in tribute to Columbus’s landing, complete with a replica wooden ship’s bow that allowed visitors to take in the view of the bay below.
He made his way there and was soon joined by another man who seemed consumed with taking pictures of the vista.
Without stopping what he was doing, the man said, “Look on the ground against the wooden railing.”
Gower did as instructed and found a small brown paper shopping bag. He picked it up and inspected the contents. There were a
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