Rum Punch Regrets (8 page)

“Cutty, please let’s not talk about Ben right now. I have nothing nice to say. Tell me about you.”

Cutty slid back into his chair, lighting up another cigarette even though he had put one out while he was at the bar getting Abby’s cocktail. He blew it out lazily, yet in one big puff, and grinned at her.

“You want to know about me? That’ll cost ya.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what? Handsome? Stunning? Fun to be around? If those are the questions, my answers are yes, yes and oh yes.”

“No. A smart-ass.”

“Ahh, now you make me feel like we’re married already. I’m ordained to be a minister, you know,” he said with importance, puffing out his scrawny chest.

“I’m sure. It’s easy to do anything online. Seriously, how long have you been here?”

Cutty was thoughtful as he stared out toward the Caribbean. He had lots of lines around his mouth, from smoking, drinking or laughing, or probably a mix of all three. He seemed to Abby like the kind of man who made sure he lived his days, each and every one, with a kind of gusto. Many drinks, many laughs and lots of women.

“I don’t know. I think I got here in the late ’80s. I can’t remember anymore, and I don’t wanna. I was offered a deal to come to Ricky’s and run the dive shop here, complete with a room that would be my apartment. So I took the deal. And now I’m here.” He smiled and gave a curt nod to show he was done telling his side of things now.

“Okay, well, that tells me about you when you got here. I’d like to know about you in the U.S.”

“What makes you think I’m from the States?” he asked as he drained the last of the beer from his Carib.

Abby wasn’t sure if he was being humorous or if he was going to be that new friend whom you hang out with because they kind of annoy you, yet you go back for more because they are also so damn entertaining you want to unleash them on other people so that they, too, feel the wrath.

“You sound like you’re from the Northeast, actually. I’m guessing Connecticut.”

“Damn close, Alex Trebek. We’ll go Rhode Island for now.” He then leaned in closer and whispered to Abby, “If it’s even a real state.”

This was how it went. For the next hour or four, Abby sat and verbally jousted with Cutty. He was disappointed when he realized she didn’t have a deck of cards with her, but he quickly perked up when Mikey came around the bar with the pack from the night before. Turned out Cutty had dreamt he set them on fire, so obviously everyone could now rest.

They were in the middle of a wicked game of rummy when Ziggy came careening down the rocky drive with a cab full of people. From the blurry looks of them, Abby thought they must be students. This was proven when they all got out of the cab, backpacks in tow, chattering about tests, small animals and other medical terms that Abby knew even if she was sober she’d never understand. So she didn’t feel bad that in her drunken state she thought they were speaking in Greek.

The four kids had come together from school and swarmed a table on the patio. There was a flurry of activity as they got settled in, ordered dinner and some drinks from the bar, opened computers and began to review their studies. Watching them all hover around the table together, Abby realized how much she missed the camaraderie of knowing other people that are a part of “your world.” People you can talk to, get advice from and give advice to, or, in some cases, people who are so close you finish one another’s sentences.

While Cutty was chatting with Ziggy and dealing him in on a game, Abby found she was lost in thought at all she had left behind. Her home, a job that didn’t want her and a relationship that set sail in the most embarrassing manner. Abby sighed as she thought about her knack at finding relationships that were doomed to fail. Whether it was a personal relationship or a professional one, she felt as if she kept getting evicted from a world that was perceived as the “norm.” Where folks got married and had 9-to-5 jobs and went home to their loved ones and picket-fenced houses.
Jesus. Where IS the fairy tale?

“Abby, where you go?” Ziggy noticed that Abby had mentally checked out.

“She’s probably wishing we would play strip poker so she could then be lucky enough to see --” Cutty stood up and began to twist back and forth at the waist -- “all this hot madness.” He waggled his drunken eyebrows at Abby as she giggled at his absolute silliness.

“I was thinking of home. I know it’s only been a few days, but I miss it a little.”

Ziggy started dealing the cards while Cutty watched Abby intently.

“You won’t miss it soon. Or you’ll get so irritated here you’ll have to go back sooner than you thought to get your Target or Macy’s fix. I know how it is.” He smiled and leaned over to pat her on the shoulder. “Retail therapy. Spend some money to have something else to whine about.”

“You whine about women a lot. And other things, too. So maybe you should just shut your face-hole,” Abby giggled to Cutty as she flicked him in the ear.

“Abby, we heard some shoutin’ today in de house.” Ziggy’s face showed his concern. “I don’t want to be gettin’ in da middle, but I don’t want it to be crazy for de two of you in de house, either.”

“Ziggy, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna take time because Ben is a spoiled bitch.”

Cutty and Ziggy threw their hands up and both went “Whooooa!” at the same time. Both men couldn’t help laughing at Abby’s pissy outburst, but Abby was over it. “Thank you for the rum drinks, boys. I may tell Ben off tonight.”

“Don’t go and do that. What’s it going to help? How much older are you than he is? Like ten years? Get over it. Maybe if you sleep with him . . . ”

“Oh, Cutty, you are just up to the brim full of good ideas. No, I am not sleeping with him.” Abby shook her head and scowled at the good Captain. “And so what if I am ten years older than he is?
He
is still an adult and needs to act like one. He is a passive-aggressive kid that needs to stop being such a turd or he’ll get spanked. S-P-A-N-K-E-D.” Abby was mimicking the motion of spanking an ass, hip-hop style. She had no idea she was really starting to look like a drunken idiot.

“You know what? I feel like I’m a good person. I like people and I like to be liked. There is nothing --” she was pointing at Cutty because he was beginning to open his mouth -- “wrong with that at all. Not one bit. Not at all, I say. So, put that in your peace pipe and smoke it, Cap’n.”

The three of them played their card game in silence until Cutty piped up with an alternative idea.

“You could stay with me, hot stuff.”

“Ew. No way!” Abby and Ziggy were both laughing at the thought. They were finishing up the game and all three found themselves in small fits of laughter as they chatted with one another, exchanging barbs. Abby really liked these guys and was happy she had met them. They made up for the fact that she was living with chip-on-his-shoulder guy.

The game ended, and Ziggy was the winner, which caused a drunk Cutty to go into a fit of aggravation that the cards had let him down yet again. Abby broke away from the loud commotion to pay her tab at the bar before she headed back to La Cantina.

One of the girls from the group of students was up there as well, getting a Diet Coke. Abby was standing next to her and watched her pull out her money to pay for her drink. Apparently the girl noticed, because she felt the need to bring it up.

“If you’re thinking of grabbing my wallet, I’m going to warn you. I’m a college student, so good luck in there.”

Abby would have been mortified, but she was spirited beyond much reason at this point.

“Actually, I was looking at the bills you are using. Are those EC?” Abby thought she might have been seeing monopoly money if they weren’t.

The girl smiled at Abby. “Yeah, it’s EC. Looks a lot like it’s fake, huh?” She had a thick accent from the South, maybe Tennessee or North Carolina? Abby couldn’t tell. She was a tan girl, very pretty, pearly white teeth and beautiful curly blonde hair. “I’m Tracey Lee. You’re with them --” she bobbed her head at Abby’s table of clowns -- “so you must be local or visiting a local?”

“My sister owns La Cantina, and I’m here doing business for her. I’m Abby George.”

Tracey’s face already showed some signs of recognition. “Oh, wait! You’re the one that got shoved into Ben’s little one-bedroom, aren’t you?” Tracey started laughing. “Oh, yeah. Heard about you today. You puked last night.”

Maybe Ziggy wasn’t the town crier Abby had decided he was. Nope. Seemed he had some competition from the young Ben.

“Yes. That would be me. The bitch that took over Ben’s small pool house. I’m a giant asshole, as you’ll probably hear all about the next few weeks.” Abby wanted to not be irritated and sarcastic, but there was no way to hold her emotions back now. Ben was obviously so irritated he was sharing this issue with his friends at school. Not that she could blame him, but now she was “that girl.”

“Don’t get mad at Ben. He happens to be my partner in one of my classes. It just came up that you’re here and he’s a little stressed out.” After she said it, Tracey’s face showed she wanted to take it back.

“I’m sorry. He just confides in me. We’re friends. Please know . . . oh, crap. I’m going to stop.” Tracey looked down and shook her head. “I have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the perfect time. I think it’s a Southern thing.” She smiled sheepishly at Abby.

“Funny, I seem to have a knack for showing up places at the right moment and creating all the wrong problems. Maybe we should be friends.”

Tracey looked Abby up and down, sizing her up. “I could hang out with you. Maybe just not tell Ben.” She winked. “What’s your cell so I can text you to make plans? There are some rugby matches coming up, plus we have soccer games against the medical schools here -- the human med school. And I like to hike when I can, so maybe I can show you the island.” Tracey was lit up from the inside, her golden skin and blond hair seeming to glitter in the last rays of the sun’s light as it fell into the balmy Kittian night.

“I’d love any of it. All of it!” Abby gushed. “I don’t have my cell yet, but as soon as I do I can call you. Why don’t you give me yours?”

Tracey grabbed a pen from Mikey and scratched her number on a cocktail napkin.

“Did they explain to you the ins and outs of the island mobile?”

“No, just that I needed to get one. One of the innkeepers is looking to see if there’s an extra at the house for me.”

Tracey’s face twisted as if she was trying to place something. “I think I may have one as well. I’ll look around and stop by tomorrow or the day after. I’ll take you to set it up and show you how to add minutes to it. They are pay-as-you-go for the most part. Everyone texts here and doesn’t try to call because it wastes minutes and money. Remember when cell phones first came out in the States?”

Abby thought beyond her iPhone, beyond her Razr phone, beyond . . . “Like the boxy Nokia ones? With old-school texting, not a ‘qwerty’ keyboard?”

“Yep. You just stepped slightly into the Dark Ages.” Tracey winked again. “I’ll show ya the lay of the land. Ben’s being a jerk, but we’re not all like that.”

Someone from Tracey’s group motioned for her to come back over. “I gotta get back to those guys. We have a surprise quiz in two days. Friend of mine’s the assistant to the teacher throwing it, so we all know. Surprise!”

Abby smiled and let out a happy breath. “I’m so glad I met you. Thank you, Tracey. You really turned my day around.”

“Eh, there’s bigger problems out there, right? Like passing school. Talk to you soon.” And with that, Tracey hurried back to her group to continue quizzing.

Abby was smiling as she returned to the table to join Ziggy and Cutty, bidding them good-bye. As she gathered her things, she noticed a man standing on the balcony of his hotel room looking down at Ricky’s. Cocking her head to the side, Abby peered up, watching him watch the sun as it dipped below the Caribbean Sea for the night. She realized it was the man that had been sitting at the bar with Cutty the night before. And even from this angle she could still make out his square jaw and handsome features.

As if sensing her gaze, he was suddenly matching her stare, smiling to one side and looking at her quizzically. Abby laughed and waved, feeling embarrassed at having been caught peeping on someone in a private moment. He smiled and waved back, then disappeared from the balcony.

Taking this as her cue, Abby began her trek back to La Cantina, feeling fairly satisfied about her day.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Dat be needin’ some patchin’ for sure.”

Abby stared at Buddy as he teetered on his ladder propped up against the side of the house. He had shown up a day earlier than expected, thanks to Maria’s plan in which Buddy’s wife, Anita, knew he needed to be somewhere. The man that arrived was definitely not someone Abby was expecting.

Buddy was a heavyset man in his late forties with some gray hairs starting to peek their way through on his hairline and out of his nostrils. He had a limp and one of his eyes didn’t seem to move from side to side. Abby was pretty sure the roof was doomed.

Much to her surprise, he had deftly set up the ladder and quickly scaled it to the top, assessing the situation that needed to be fixed. He was nodding and grunting as he looked around, but overall seemed pleased with the amount of work that lay before him.

“It just needs a patch or two, but other den dat de rest of de roof is fine. Some water had pooled up from de last few storms, making it weak. I can get supplies and fix it.”

Abby nodded, impressed. “Great, Buddy. Love that. How long will it take you?”

Buddy was pulling a piece of the roof off with him, to take as a sample for other tiles to match. “Hmm,” he grunted. “Maybe six weeks? Seven?”

Abby was floored. “What? Six or seven weeks? You said you just needed to patch a few spots.”

Buddy looked down at Abby from his perch. “I got to get de tile to match from da mainland and get it shipped over, Abby. Den I got to get de crew to do it. Plus I got other roofs to be fixing on de island. Your roof isn’t de only one dat be needin’ work.”

Abby’s first reaction was to insist he put them first, but instead she decided to think outside the box.

“I’ve noticed a lot of construction on the island, Buddy. Surely someone would have some tiles like these? Everyone seems to use the same kind to protect from the storms, right?”

Buddy shrugged. “I don’t know, mon. I just order from de mainland but I guess it could be dat someone has de same kind here.”

Abby smiled at Buddy. “Okay, so I’m thinking that before the order is placed and we are put on hold, can we try to get the tiles from one of the local construction sites? We can’t need that many . . . can we?”

Buddy peered across the roof and shook his head. “I tink we can get by wit fifty tiles.”

Maria had appeared next to Abby and was squinting up in the midday sun at Buddy now, too.

“We ain’t got time for an order from the mainland, Buddy! I know you can make it happen . . . or do we need to talk to Anita again?”

At the mention of his wife’s name, Buddy’s body had mildly shuddered.
Seems we know who wears the pants in that family,
Abby thought.

“Fine, Maria. Tell you what, I be trying to find dese tiles, okay? But I may need help putting dem on de roof. Deal?”

Abby jumped with joy. “Buddy, it’s a deal, even if I have to climb up there and help you get those tiles in!”

Abby turned and was heading back to the pool house, but Maria stopped her.

“Girl, I got a list here for you.”

Abby looked quizzically at Maria. “List?”

Maria laughed, winking at Abby. “Yes, girl. Of other repairs. Spots on the walls that need to be touched up wit paint and light-switch plates that be needing replaced. And that’s just to start.”

Abby looked over the list, taking mental notes on what needed to be addressed. “Great, thank you, Maria. I’ll get to work on this.”

“Some of the supplies you need are in the house already. Ziggy has a toolbox for you and some paint. Anything else you need you can get in town.”

Buddy had loaded his ladder and was climbing in the truck. “Okay, I got to go now, but either me or Anita will call you and let you know what happens wit’ de tiles.” With that, he nodded at the two women and sped out of the driveway.

“I thought he was going fishing,” Abby said to Maria.

Maria grunted. “If by fishing you mean fishing on the north side of the island for a bottle of rum, then yes, Buddy was going fishing.” Maria grinned wide. “Anita’s my cousin, so I got a little pull there.”

Abby felt Maria’s hand rest on her shoulder as she guided her into the main house so Abby could get down to business.

#

From that day onward, Abby’s new pattern began to form. Most days began with the screen door to the pool house slamming in the morning. Ben was always running late, so he was usually rushed. Only once did Abby dare to bring up to him that it would be nice if he didn’t slam the door closed when he was leaving. It did not go over well.

As Ben was about to leave one morning, she had tried a tactic to get his attention called “asking nicely.”

“I know you’re in a hurry, but since I’m not having to get up as early as you do, do you mind not slamming the door when you go?” Abby figured it was reasonable.

Ben’s stony expression was hard when he replied. “That bothers you? Hm. Must be rough.” He responded by slamming every door, even a majority of the kitchen cabinets, as he left for the day.

At this point, Abby would generally shuffle into the main house for some coffee with Maria and busy herself with getting organized with the work she needed to accomplish that day. The first few days she had managed to change all the light-switch plates out in the inn, as well as replace every light bulb. She had tested all the beds to make sure their posts were still secure and the mattresses were still good, only being busted leaping onto a mattress once by a visitor. Abby had been shaking the headboards and bouncing up and down, testing for squeaking sounds or loose boards when she had noticed the woman staring at her with her mouth open from the hallway. She started to explain, but realized how insane she looked. So Abby just smiled at the woman and kept bouncing, shrugging her shoulders, testing the bed frame.

One particular morning, Abby found Maria checking in a couple, the Bellfields, who had arrived for their honeymoon. Abby was still her in pajamas and wiping sleep from her eyes as Maria introduced her.

“And speaking of the owners, this is Abby. Her sister owns the inn.”

Abby smiled at the couple. “Good morning.”

The two looked at Abby and smiled, but also seemed slightly appalled. The happy grins that were present a moment before had disappeared. They took the key to their room from Maria, nodded goodbye, and walked away without even a backward glance at Abby.

“What’s their problem?” Abby was sincerely perplexed.

Maria turned to Abby and fully took her in. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

Abby stared at Maria for half a second before running to the mirror in the front hall.

Abby’s face was covered with little black dots, smudges that, when she rubbed at them with her fingers, came off. She smelled her hands in an attempt to guess what it was.

“Smells like . . . cigarettes?”

Maria nodded. “Looks like you’ve been smudged, girl.”

Abby ran into the washroom by the front door and splashed water on her face, cursing Ben under her breath.
What the hell is his problem? He smudged me with ashes?

Abby emerged irritated.

“Why the hell would he do that?”

Maria laughed. “I don’t think it was Ben. A few of those marks looked like paw prints.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “So the cats did this to me?” She sighed. “I can’t win here, Maria. No matter what I do, it seems the world is stacked against me.”

“Checks and balances. Something has to even out, girl.” Maria was sympathetic, but Abby could tell she was also determined not to get in the middle of the small war that was raging in the pool house. “It takes time. Those cats probably got in one of the ashtrays and brought it in the house. Don’t be so quick to blame Ben.”

Abby felt slightly betrayed by her “house mother,” but didn’t let it show. She couldn’t blame her
.

Pouring herself some coffee, Abby sat at the computer to attack the new job she had created for herself while waiting for Buddy to come through: bookkeeping. Abby was enjoying the feeling of having people depend on her and felt inspired by her productive repair days, so she had taken over the computer and helped by logging the finances so Maria had one fewer item on her to-do list.

As she was sitting at her workstation balancing the books, the phone on the desk rang.

“La Cantina!” She forced herself to smile when she answered.

“Sounds like someone woke with sunshine in her heart.” The Southern drawl clued Abby in that it was Tracey, calling to save her from her seclusion. Tracey was becoming a great friend to Abby. Southern mothers raised them both, so their backgrounds were similar. It made it easy for them to fall into a tight friendship. This of course led to Tracey bringing up Ben, not too often, but enough just to check in with Abby and see how she was doing with their living situation.

“Ha. Ben’s cats attacked me while I was sleeping. Even the felines are rising up to take me down. How’s your day?”

Tracey laughed. “Over! We have a ton of tests this week for midterms. I’m sure Ben told you.”

“Tracey, do you really think he shares anything with me?” Abby asked her friend.

“True.” Tracey understood. “I’m going to one of the beach bars to study. Be by in an hour to get you?”

Abby felt her heart leap in her chest. “I’d love that! I’ll be ready.”

They disconnected and Abby finished up her data entry. She did a quick check-in with Maria to see if she was needed for anything at the inn. Maria gave her the green light to enjoy the interlude by shooing her out the back door.

#

“He never really says anything, so I’ve responded in kind, Trace.” They were sitting at The Ship That Sank, one of the bars in South Friars Bay. It was a spot where a lot of the Rhodes University students liked to study, eat and take swim breaks. It was also where the monkeys lived in the trees and goats roamed on the hill behind the restaurant. You never knew if they would make a surprise appearance. Abby loved it.

“Smart thing. One day he’ll have something to say, and if you want --” she reached across Abby and grabbed a fry -- “you can answer. Otherwise, he will have missed his chance to get to hang with a kick-ass chick.” She ended her sentence with a big grin and a swig of her water.

“Thanks,” Abby replied as she chewed thoughtfully on her fries and stared over the waters of the bay. “The other day we got into an argument over how to change the litter box -- the stinky litter box that his cats crap in. I bleached it and apparently that is something he didn’t want to happen. Trace, it smelled so terrible and I sleep next to it, so I went out and bought new litter and then I scrubbed it out and bleached it. I didn’t think I would ever argue with someone over how to change a litter box, much less get yelled at so much by one person. It just sucks. I don’t think anyone has ever hated me like this, at least not anyone who isn’t related to me. I mean, when you’re related, you always kinda hate each other.”

Tracey, ever the good friend, just listened as Abby vented.

“You know, I knew coming here would be different. It’s not home. Home was familiar and this is still new. There are days where I can handle the freedom, you know? Some days I want to hear the noise of the streets or look out the window and see the Hollywood sign in the distance. I want to put on heels and go out to a fun party in my best dress.” Abby looked at her friend sheepishly. “Stupid, huh?”

Tracey smiled across the table. “No, it isn’t. Living on an island is different. I mean, there’s a reason they tell you to go for two weeks and then come back. That way you never have time to get ‘island fever,’ ya know?”

“Yeah,” Abby giggled. “I think the days when the power goes out because everyone on the island uses air conditioners are the best . . . I mean, try having to explain that to guests at the inn, when they are paying to stay in paradise and it’s bloody, freakin’ hot. And it’s not like anyone is in a hurry to fix it when it goes out. Sometimes it seems to take days to get anyone to pick up a phone to repair anything here! And the days the cable goes out? The worst! They always seem to be the days I just want to lie there and soak in some bad television or see what’s happening in the rest of the world.”

Abby sighed heavily as if she were winding down, so Tracey began to speak. However, it seemed Abby was still not done yet.

“Did I mention, the other night I was watching
NCIS
on the little TV in the living room and Ben came down and kind of yelled at me, said it was ‘too loud’? The thing is so damn tiny that even when I have it cranked up, I can’t really hear it over the fans he has running to circulate air through the house!” Abby was only getting warmed up.

“And his guitar playing. Tracey, he thinks he can play the guitar. So he does and at all hours. Never mind if I’m sleeping or trying to . . . he does it because he needs to unwind, or it’s a study break. Or he’s drunk or his rugby team won a match. It’s gotten beyond ridiculous. So much so that me, I’m tiptoeing around this guy to be a nice roommate and he has taken up a hobby of rudeness. All aimed at me. I have bought groceries, offered to help around the house, and changed the litter box for those smelly-ass felines. I did laundry the other day, and to be nice added a few of his things that were sitting there as well. Did he say thank you? No. He saw his things folded and rolled his eyes, marched upstairs and slammed the door. That was that.”

“Abby, don’t push anything,” Tracey warned.

“I’m not! I really am trying to stay away. If I stay any more out of the way, I’ll be on the next island over. And Leigh’s been no help. She’s so busy; I only get emails saying she’s sorry and she will make it up to me.” She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s too much to handle. He’s a beast.”

Tracey looked around to make sure no one could hear her, then she leaned in to Abby and whispered, “There’s more to it than he’s telling you, or anyone for that matter.”

Abby leaned in as well, with a sweet smile on her face, and replied sarcastically, “Whatever.”

“Abby! Look, he’d kill me if he knew I was going to tell you this, but I think you need to know in order for you to understand why he is such a basketcase this semester.”