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Day 1 - Tack
After the motor boat sped away, I stood surrounded by four giant trunks. I had every survival item imaginable for a luxurious camping trip, but all I wanted was to find the hammock designed to hang from trees. I wasn’t going to waste a moment of my paradise banishment. Wiggling my bare toes in the sand was step one. A nap in the shady heat would be my second act.
The only information I had about this place was its isolation and reported safety, meaning, it was relatively free of inhabitants other than monkeys, birds, and some giant-sized insects. I didn’t worry about food, as provisions were promised to be delivered, and a botanical guide had been provided to help me decipher plant life. My father thought living below my means would be an excellent lesson in humility. I scoffed at the thought. What did he know about being humble?
“There are people less fortunate than you, Tack. You’re wasting what’s been provided for you.” The statement sounded callous and clinical, not surprising from an unfeeling man who lacked emotion. He knew nothing about tenderness. Born the first son to a prominent family, tracing their history back to the original settlers of America, pride ran deep in the blue blood within our family’s veins. My father was the poster child of privilege generating prosperity. Only he didn’t follow the common philosophy of those well-off to be generous. My father hoarded his dollars, dispensing funds with a calculated purpose. He often commented that I wasted his hard-earned money.
I laughed again at the thought. My father’s money came from money before him and would exist long after me if I didn’t squander it like my father warned. Terrence Jackson Corbin III was full of cautionary advice for his son, Terrence Jackson Corbin IV. His biggest suggestion: Don’t get caught. So when I did, the expense was more a disappointment than the crime committed.
As to that crime, billionaire Terror Corbin, as he was known among the industrial elite, didn’t even blink at the accusation. What was the taking of a woman against her will to him? Certainly not the legally termed word—rape. No, to my father, women demanded respect at all times, unless they acted in a disrespectful manner. Then, any means necessary was the measure—force being preferable. I shuddered at the thought. Visions flashed before me, hazed and muted. The sight shimmery. The scent scintillating. The scream sadistic.
I bent for a trunk, willing my mind to let go of the images and begin my adventure. The first thing I needed to do was find higher ground within the brush for my shelter, a safari style pop-up tent, complete with four-ply canvas protection from the predicted rains. I set to work, happy with the distraction.
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A week into my banishment, I couldn’t stand myself. I swam in the warmth of the crystal-clear Caribbean waters. I snorkeled like a pro discovering the beauty within the sea. I built a sandcastle like a child and slept on the beach under the blanket of stars, but I was bored out of my mind. Beginning to talk to myself, I worried I’d be making friends with a volleyball soon. If only I had one.
“As long as you don’t decide to fuck it as well, you’ll be good,” I spoke to myself in second-person as if I might answer me.
I decided I needed to explore my surroundings better, learn the lay of the land like a voyager or the frontiers in the heritage of my family. Traditional compass in hand, I’d struggled through the week without electronic devices doing all the work for me. Nothing predicted the weather. No channels to surf for information on stocks or bonds or business in general. No GPS to point the direction for me. Holding the instrument securely in my palm, I trekked forward, marking my trail as I walked, making mental notes as I went in order to find my way back.
This was all her fault, I thought as I trekked. If she’d kept her mouth shut. If she hadn’t gone after Rick. If the tape was never exposed, I wouldn’t be on this island. My restoration coach, Garvey Edwin, was a graying-haired Native American who said I blamed everyone else for my predicament. What did he know? He wasn’t there. He didn’t feel the pressure to do as Rick said. He hadn’t wanted to be a member of the club. The Front Door’s secret society required what had been asked of me. I hadn’t given it a thought, only acted. It was her fault she didn’t play along.
I can’t say I hiked more than a mile over rooted terrain and under lush foliage canopy when I came upon a natural spring and the rushing sound of a waterfall. The setting was picturesque—cascading white caps, crystal clear water, and a subtle ripple pressing outward. I wished I had a phone to capture the image, if only partially. Scanning the curtain of water as it fell from feet above to be captured in the filled rock basin, I discovered movement under the stream.
Suddenly a creature popped upward, startling me despite my concentration on the moving current. A dark head of slicked back hair rocketed upward as the upper body of the most peaceful, beautiful creature I’d ever seen appeared like a sea nymph released from the water. Rivulets of liquid caressed a solid, feminine back, licking sun-kissed skin. She spun and two delicious globes of perfection pointed at me. Each stood at attention, ripe to peaked-perfection and emphasized with the lushness of rosy nipples. Swiping back the sopping hair, delicate fingers caressed over a wet face of chiseled cheeks leaving behind an expression of calm serenity. Then lazy lids lifted and violet beams glared up at me. Startled, she screamed. And I recognized her instantly.