High Tide, Page 3

  She was wearing her New York uniform: black wool jacket, white silk blouse, short black skirt, black hose, and black high heels. In her suitcase had been some lovely outfits perfect for wearing on a boat, but they were now ashes, she thought with a grimace. But maybe this place had a gift shop and she could at least purchase a pair of sneakers.

  But the further she walked, the more run-down the place seemed. Not exactly Disney, she thought. There was a little kiosk that seemed to be a ticket-taking booth, but no one was there this early in the morning. Further on was another building that looked as though a good wind could knock it over.

  What a dreary place, she thought, picking her way across the sand, but still getting it in her shoes. Cupping her hand, she looked inside the window of the larger building. On one side was an old-fashioned juice bar with stools covered in worn red plastic and what had to be the gift shop on the other side.

  Fiona rubbed the dust from the glass and looked closer. Inside all she could see were things about birds. There were bird photos, plastic birds, huge bird kites, bird posters, birds made of stone. Even the cash register had birds painted on it.

  Turning away, for a moment she leaned against the building, removed her shoe, and poured a couple of pounds of sand out. The only shoes a place like that was going to carry were for webbed feet.

  With a glance at her watch she saw that it was nearly six-thirty. So where was everyone? At that thought she almost cried because they were probably all still in bed. Sleeping.

  Suddenly, she thought she saw movement through the abundant greenery. “If it’s an alligator, I’ll throw myself on it,” she said aloud, then cautiously moved toward what looked like something in human clothes.

  A man was bent over something. She couldn’t see much of him, just his back and one corner of his right ear.

  “Excuse me,” she said softly, but the man didn’t seem to hear her. “Excuse me!” she said louder.

  “I’m not deaf!” the man said as he turned partway around, then swung back again. “Damnation! Look what you made me do. Don’t you know better than to sneak up on people? What are you doing here this early anyway? We don’t open until nine.”

  With that he turned back toward her, and there was a tall, long-legged white bird in his hand. For a split second it registered with Fiona that the man was as tall as, if not taller than, she was, which was a welcome treat.

  “Hello, I’m—” she said, and had her hand extended when she recognized him.

  “You!” they shouted in unison.

  He recovered first. “If you’ve come here to apologize, I won’t accept it. The only thing I’ll accept from you is a check.”

  “Apologize? Are you out of your mind?” Fiona said, her anger instantly at the boiling point. “I saved your worthless life.”

  “From what? Death by plastic? Look, lady, I don’t know why you came here, but I want you to leave now.”

  “For your information, not that it’s any of your business, I’m meeting someone. Are you killing that bird?”

  He dropped the bird, and it went running into the plants. “And who would you be meeting?”

  “Roy Hudson,” she said, and hoped with all her might that Hudson owned this place so she could do what she could to get this creep fired. “And Ace.”

  “Ace?” the man said, his face softening.

  Now she had him. Maybe Ace would beat him up. “Yes Ace. He and Roy are meeting me, and we’re going fishing.”

  “Really. So what are you doing here? Planning to use the cormorants?”

  At that she could only blink at him. Was that a private Florida joke?

  “You are certainly dressed for fishing,” he said, looking her up and down.

  She badly wanted to zap him with a put-down that would set him on his ear. “At least today you’re wearing something other than a set of teeth.” At that retort, which made no real sense, she happened to look at his shirt. Embroidered on the pocket was, Ace, Kendrick Park.

  “That’s it,” she said, then threw up her hands and started walking back to the entrance. “I have had it. I have reached the limit of my endurance. I am going back to New York where people are safe.”

  “Fiona,” came another voice from behind her, this one older and friendly, but she didn’t stop walking toward the entrance.

  “Honey, I’d recognize you anywhere,” the man said as he caught her arm and prevented her from moving.

  “Let me guess,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Roy Hudson.”

  “Right you are, little lady. Now come over here and meet the rest of the crew.”

  Roy Hudson was in his early sixties and looked to be as cuddly as Winnie the Pooh, whom he somewhat resembled. Fiona felt like asking him if he had a penchant for honey and a friend who loved to bounce.

  “This is Ace Montgomery, and he owns this little ol’ place.”

  “And he deserves every square inch of it,” Fiona said as she smiled across Roy’s outstretched hand into the eyes of the owner of the dilapidated Kendrick Park. But she didn’t extend her hand to shake Ace’s.

  “We’ve met,” Ace said, his upper lip curled into a sneer as he again looked Fiona up and down. “Miss Burkenhalter and I had a … a confrontation at the airport.”

  “How wonderful,” Roy said, then slapped Fiona on the back so hard she nearly fell forward onto Ace. “You all ready to go? I gotta car waitin’, and the boat’s all packed.”

  “Mr. Hudson,” Fiona said firmly. “I think there’s been a mistake. I know that you talked to Garrett about me and that you requested me, but I really don’t know anything about the merchandising of action figures. Or stuffed animals or whatever it is you want to sell. And I also don’t know anything about fishing. So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll excuse myself from this excursion and return to town.”

  Putting her hand into the outside pocket of her backpack, she pulled out her cell phone. Truthfully, she was dying to tell The Five that she’d been right: Ace was gorgeous beyond belief: black hair, black eyes, a body … And he was as big a loser as she’d predicted, she thought as she glanced back at the crumbling gift shop.

  As she lifted her finger to push the buttons, she looked at Ace. “Don’t worry, it’s real, not a plastic fake.”

  Before Ace could reply to that gibe, Roy started laughing. “That must have been some meetin’ the two of you had yesterday. But we got days for you two to tell me all about it.” With that he put his arm around Fiona’s shoulders and firmly turned her away from the entrance and just as firmly held her arm in a way to prevent her using the telephone. “Now, honey, why I asked for you is somethin’ we gotta talk about. But not yet. First we need to have some fun.”

  Throughout this exchange, Ace had been glaring at Fiona with so much hostility that, had the circumstances been different, she might have been afraid of him. But right now her mind was too full of plans to be afraid of anything. She stepped away from Roy as she realized she had to get out of this situation. Even Garrett would understand if she left after what she’d been through. All she’d have to do is mention “lawsuit” to Garrett and he’d forgive anything.

  “I think we need to get this lady some different clothes, don’t you, Roy?” Ace said in a voice that dripped with kind consideration. But the steel grip he put on Fiona’s upper arm was anything but kind.

  “I’m not staying here,” she hissed at him, then turned back to smile at Roy. She’d better not anger the man who owned Raphael, not when Garrett wanted the franchise rights so much. She’d just explain to Roy that they’d have to take their little trip at another time—preferably after this man Ace was rotting in the ground.

  “I have clothes for her,” Ace said loudly to Roy; then into Fiona’s ear, he said, “You either come with me or we spend this afternoon with lawyers talking about how you’re going to pay for the property you destroyed.”

  Jeremy wouldn’t like that, she thought, then tears came to her eyes as the man’s hands bit harder into her flesh. “I
, ah, think I should wear something different,” she mumbled to Roy, then tried to keep up with the stride of the maniac parkman.

  Once they were out of sight of Roy—out of sight of civilization, she thought as the plants closed about them—she halted and jerked her arm out of his grip.

  “There are laws against this,” she hissed at him so Roy wouldn’t hear.

  Ace closed the one step that separated them and put his nose to hers. “There are laws against destruction of property, too. My lawyer said I was a fool for not suing you. Do you have any idea how much that alligator cost me?”

  “Trade price or retail?”

  Obviously, the man had no sense of humor. At the look of rage on his face, she stepped backward.

  With the muscles in his jaw working frantically, Ace grabbed her wrist and half dragged her down what could have been called a path. As it was only about six inches wide, the plants scraped her arms, and she was sure they were snagging her hose. She’d been walking on sand for so long that it was beginning to feel normal to have grit between her toes.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, but he just kept pulling her along, saying nothing.

  Finally they came to a clearing in the “jungle,” and there was a tiny house, the front of it fitted with screens from the roof to halfway to the ground. Ace threw open a screen door, pulled her through the long narrow room, then opened another door and shoved her down onto a bed.

  For a moment Fiona felt real fear. If she were to scream, no one would hear her, and she was utterly alone with a raving madman.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Ace said with a sneer. “You’re not my type. I like women to be women,” he said, then disappeared into a closet.

  Fiona recovered instantly. Nothing like having your femininity attacked to dispel fear. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked as she came off the bed.

  “Here,” he said as he tossed a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt on the bed. “Put those on.”

  She looked down at the two garments. “Your clothes? You want me to wear your clothes?” Her tone said that she’d rather wear poison paint.

  She wasn’t prepared for his reaction. As fast as a snake’s tongue, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. “Listen to me, Miss Snooty New Yorker, I’ve had all I can take from you. You destroyed something that took me and everyone else in this park three years to earn enough money to buy. And you don’t care one damned bit that you did it. All I’ve heard is that you don’t like it here, that this place is not up to your New York standards.”

  Though it didn’t seem possible, he leaned even closer to her, and he had to bend down somewhat to put his nose so close to hers. “I want you to listen to me and listen well. I don’t care why you’re here or what Roy Hudson wants from you. All I care is that in the next three days—on this boat trip—he’s going to decide if he wants to invest some of the profits of his TV show into this park. This place may not look like much to you—you’ve made that abundantly clear—but this place is my life.”

  His voice lowered. “So help me, if you screw up this trip with your snot-nosed arrogance, I will sue you for everything you have, everything you will earn, and for what you plan to leave your children. Am I making myself clear?”

  He paused a moment, but when Fiona didn’t reply, he pressed her harder against the wall.

  She could feel the pressure of his big hands, and she could feel the power of his huge body so close to her own. She’d had intimate contact only with Jeremy, and Jeremy was about half the size of this man.

  “Yes,” she managed to say from dry lips.“I understand.”

  “All right,” he said, then stepped away from her as though he couldn’t move fast enough, then turned away. “Get into those clothes,” he said, his voice somewhat softer. “I’m going to try to find you some shoes.” At the door he turned back, strode across the room, picked up her cell phone off the bed, then put it into his pocket. “Don’t try to leave,” he said at the door. “There are some nasty creatures out there.”

  “Out there?” she managed to gasp, but he was already out the door.

  Fiona took the three steps across the room to the bed then collapsed, trembling. She didn’t know if she was afraid or angry. She had never been talked to the way that man had just addressed her, and she’d certainly never been shoved up against a wall.

  Survive, she thought, that’s what she had to do over the next three days—survive. She had no doubt whatever that the man’s threats were genuine. Hadn’t even Jeremy thought that the man had a right to sue her?

  It was amazing how a person’s life could change in seconds. Had she left the plane earlier, she might have seen that the alligator was fake, then she wouldn’t have …

  “Strength,” she said aloud, then made herself get off the bed and look at the clothes. What had he meant when he’d said that he liked women to be women? She’d never before had any complaints about her appearance.

  After a quick look around to see if there were spying eyes, she stripped down to her underwear, then quickly put on the man’s clothes. The jeans were too big in the hips and in the waist; the shirt was too long in the sleeves. But she wasn’t a New Yorker for nothing, she thought as she went into the closet to look for a belt. Fashion was her forte.

  It was a big walk-in closet, but it was mostly filled with bird books and bird … things. She had no idea what most of the stuff was, but she was sure it all had to do with birds. In one corner hung three pairs of trousers and four shirts. There were two of those gray uniforms, like the one he had on today, folded on a shelf. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t a clotheshorse.

  Fiona found a cowboy belt with a fancy silver buckle hidden under a pile of brown file boxes. Peeking inside one of the boxes, she saw folders labeled with the names of different birds. She tried the belt around her, kept her nail on the place where she needed a new hole, then found a Phillips screwdriver and jammed it into the leather. Actually, it felt good to hit something owned by “him” with a sharp instrument.

  When the hole was made, she threaded the belt through the loops in the jeans and pulled it tight. With the shirt tucked into the pants, she rolled up the cuffs and stood the collar up at the back of her neck.

  When she was dressed and he still hadn’t returned, she went into the only other room, the bathroom, with her backpack. Looking in the mirror, she regarded her face. At work she wore little makeup, and she slicked back her hair with a spray that made it as stiff as pipe cleaners. She knew that Garrett thought that women in business was going against nature, so any woman who worked for him toned herself down. Plus, there was his vice president, who tended to put his hands on the prettiest of the female employees.

  Now, Fiona filled the basin with water, then dipped her head into it and loosened the spray that she had put on her hair this morning out of habit. When her hair was thoroughly wet, she grabbed a towel and rubbed it dry. When she looked back in the mirror, she smiled to herself as her short, sleek hair sprang into fat curls. Her makeup was now running down her face, so she fixed it, but she used a heavier hand on her eyes.

  When she stepped back, she looked at herself and again smiled. She was now emphasizing what she had spent years trying to underplay: she was a dead ringer for the fifties movie star Ava Gardner.

  The next moment, she heard the door open, and she left the bathroom. When Ace stepped inside the room, a pair of sneakers in his hand, he did a tiny double take at the sight of her. It was a subtle movement, and he recovered himself quickly, but she saw it.

  However, the anger did not leave his face. “Try these. I’ll wait for you outside,” he said, then slammed the door behind him—and Fiona smiled. Maybe next time he’d think twice before saying she wasn’t “a woman.”

  The shoes fit perfectly. They were well-worn, old-fashioned sneakers, and she wondered where he’d got them. It was while she was bent over, tying the laces, that she saw something silver sticking out
from under the bed. Except for the inside of the closet, the rest of the house was extremely neat. There were very few items in the house, but what was there was tidy and dusted. The bathroom had been very clean. In the corner were a couple of cabinets with a hot plate and a tiny under-counter refrigerator. The only picture on the wall was a black-and-white print of a man.

  Other than all the bird things in the closet, there wasn’t one personal item in the house, so she was curious when she touched the silver object hidden under the plain gray bedspread. It was a picture frame and the smiling woman in the photo was beautiful. She looked like every prom queen/ beauty queen/cheerleader in the world: long blonde hair, big blue eyes, perfectly pink cheeks, and a baby doll mouth.

  Not even Kimberly is this pretty, Fiona thought as she turned the frame over. It was Tiffany sterling and written on the back was, “Lisa Rene Honeycutt.”

  Fiona slipped the picture back under the bed, finished tying her shoes, put her pack over her shoulder, then turned to go outside. On second thought, with a one-sided smile, she turned back, pulled back the bedspread, and emptied her high heel shoes of sand onto Ace Montgomery’s clean white sheets. She then arranged her New York clothes as though they had been removed hurriedly. Still smiling, she went outside where Ace was waiting and scowling.

  “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” she said as she sailed past him, acting as though she lived in the house and he was just passing by. She came to a fork in the path and went right.

  Three minutes later she was standing in front of a couple of shacks that had big locks on the doors.

  “Are you finished showing off?” came Ace’s voice from behind her. “Because if you’re going with us, then this is the way. Unless of course you want to repay all of us in work. We have a swamp that needs to be mucked out. With all the animals it gets full of—”

  “Very funny,” she said, then moved past him so close that her shirtsleeve grazed his chest.