checks it out. I'm telling you, the guy's great. He'll find you a generator. And cheap. A jack-of-all-trades. He doesn't have what you want, those kids'll find one for you, know what I mean?"
"I guess you guys have lived down here a long time," Tommy said cautiously.
"Almost thirteen years, give or take," said Henry.
"Where you from? New York?"
"New Jersey . . . Frances is from New York. Upstate."
"Yeah," said Tommy, resolving something in his mind. "I think I seen you at the bar . . ."
"You're from the City, right?" said Frances, though Tommy's accent was unmistakable.
"The City." Tommy chortled. "Yeah. I still do that. People ask where I'm from, I say 'the City.' I'm so used to it. Like, what other city could there be?"
"Henry, they live up in that big stone house on the hill, the really nice one," said Frances.
"Really?" said Henry. "Nice . . . I didn't know anybody was living there. We've admired that place for years. It's always seemed to be empty."
"We're sort of house-sitting," piped in Cheryl.
"The owner never comes down?" asked Frances.
"He's there now." Cheryl pouted.
"Rich guy and his bodyguards," said Tommy, cutting her off, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.
"Henry was thinking of getting something to eat," said Frances, backing off.
"Yeah, Tommy. What should he have?" said Cheryl.
"Oh," said Tommy, brightening. "Great . . . great . . . sure. I gotta start up the grill . . . but, yeah, great."
"We're starved," purred Frances, stretching her shoulders back and yawning. "And I could use a drink . . ."
"Cheryl was just showing us the menu," said Henry.
"What do you feel like having?" asked Tommy, getting to his feet.
"I think we'll leave that to you," said Henry.
"Well, lemme buy you guys a beer or a drink or something while you wait," offered Tommy. "It'll take a little while."
"Couple a' Heinekens would be great," said Henry.
As they walked over to the empty bar together, Cheryl mentioned Henry and Frances's invitation. "They asked us out to the Dinghy Dock later for a drink. Can we go? Please, please, please?"
Henry watched Tommy's expression as he scrambled for an excuse.
Frances gave him no room. "You should know now, you've got no choice in the matter. We're kidnapping Cheryl whether you like it or not. So you're just going to have to say yes." She hooked an arm around Cheryl's.
"It'll be funnn," said Cheryl, plaintively.
"I don't know if I have the clothes," said Tommy, lamely.
"Sorry," said Frances. "Won't work. You can show up at the Dinghy Dock in a gunnysack. Nobody'll notice. As is will be fine."
"Drinks are only a buck till seven, and we're buying anyway, so money's no excuse either," said Henry.
Tommy looked around the bar like he wished he could crawl back into the dark and hide.
"We close at five anyway, Tommy," said Cheryl. "And it's been dead all day . . . Please?"
"You're roped in, man," said Henry. "No fighting it. You got two very determined women here."
Henry watched as Tommy's last bit of resistance faded away. "What the fuck," he said, finally. "Sure. Why not? C'mon. I'll cook us something'll knock you on your ass."
Frances and Cheryl got their beers and ran into the water. Henry sat on one of the tall barstools. He could hear the women behind him, splashing around in the water as he watched Tommy behind the bar, adding some wood chips to the charcoal in the small barbecue grill and lighting it.
The day was coming to an end. The sun was getting red and heavy over the mountains, sinking slowly into pink and purple clouds. The shadows of the coconut palms played out over the white sand beach, growing longer and longer, the light growing more precise, moving with the gentle, rustling sound of the fronds in the gathering breeze.
"Snapper good for you?" said Tommy, poking at the fire with a stick.
"Excellent," said Henry, sipping his beer and trying not to press.
Tommy removed two large fillets from an aluminum foil pan filled with marinade in an
"I guess you guys have lived down here a long time," Tommy said cautiously.
"Almost thirteen years, give or take," said Henry.
"Where you from? New York?"
"New Jersey . . . Frances is from New York. Upstate."
"Yeah," said Tommy, resolving something in his mind. "I think I seen you at the bar . . ."
"You're from the City, right?" said Frances, though Tommy's accent was unmistakable.
"The City." Tommy chortled. "Yeah. I still do that. People ask where I'm from, I say 'the City.' I'm so used to it. Like, what other city could there be?"
"Henry, they live up in that big stone house on the hill, the really nice one," said Frances.
"Really?" said Henry. "Nice . . . I didn't know anybody was living there. We've admired that place for years. It's always seemed to be empty."
"We're sort of house-sitting," piped in Cheryl.
"The owner never comes down?" asked Frances.
"He's there now." Cheryl pouted.
"Rich guy and his bodyguards," said Tommy, cutting her off, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.
"Henry was thinking of getting something to eat," said Frances, backing off.
"Yeah, Tommy. What should he have?" said Cheryl.
"Oh," said Tommy, brightening. "Great . . . great . . . sure. I gotta start up the grill . . . but, yeah, great."
"We're starved," purred Frances, stretching her shoulders back and yawning. "And I could use a drink . . ."
"Cheryl was just showing us the menu," said Henry.
"What do you feel like having?" asked Tommy, getting to his feet.
"I think we'll leave that to you," said Henry.
"Well, lemme buy you guys a beer or a drink or something while you wait," offered Tommy. "It'll take a little while."
"Couple a' Heinekens would be great," said Henry.
As they walked over to the empty bar together, Cheryl mentioned Henry and Frances's invitation. "They asked us out to the Dinghy Dock later for a drink. Can we go? Please, please, please?"
Henry watched Tommy's expression as he scrambled for an excuse.
Frances gave him no room. "You should know now, you've got no choice in the matter. We're kidnapping Cheryl whether you like it or not. So you're just going to have to say yes." She hooked an arm around Cheryl's.
"It'll be funnn," said Cheryl, plaintively.
"I don't know if I have the clothes," said Tommy, lamely.
"Sorry," said Frances. "Won't work. You can show up at the Dinghy Dock in a gunnysack. Nobody'll notice. As is will be fine."
"Drinks are only a buck till seven, and we're buying anyway, so money's no excuse either," said Henry.
Tommy looked around the bar like he wished he could crawl back into the dark and hide.
"We close at five anyway, Tommy," said Cheryl. "And it's been dead all day . . . Please?"
"You're roped in, man," said Henry. "No fighting it. You got two very determined women here."
Henry watched as Tommy's last bit of resistance faded away. "What the fuck," he said, finally. "Sure. Why not? C'mon. I'll cook us something'll knock you on your ass."
Frances and Cheryl got their beers and ran into the water. Henry sat on one of the tall barstools. He could hear the women behind him, splashing around in the water as he watched Tommy behind the bar, adding some wood chips to the charcoal in the small barbecue grill and lighting it.
The day was coming to an end. The sun was getting red and heavy over the mountains, sinking slowly into pink and purple clouds. The shadows of the coconut palms played out over the white sand beach, growing longer and longer, the light growing more precise, moving with the gentle, rustling sound of the fronds in the gathering breeze.
"Snapper good for you?" said Tommy, poking at the fire with a stick.
"Excellent," said Henry, sipping his beer and trying not to press.
Tommy removed two large fillets from an aluminum foil pan filled with marinade in an
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