Jack
After Adele left, I was angry. I couldn’t believe that she’d done it again – allowed her guard to slip down, and then spit in my face when I showed her the same courtesy. It was impossible. Dealing with her was like dealing with a child. But even so, I was more drawn to Adele than ever before. I didn’t want to stop seeing her. Hell, I could barely tear my mind away from her. The only thing that had the power to distract me was thinking about work.
That night, I stayed up late working on the plans for the new Trident Gold property in Nassau. The plans were coming together nicely, and I couldn’t wait for the chance to really go over the fine details. I was itching to go back to Nassau and talk to the developers and construction men.
When Barnes called early in the morning, my wounded pride had begun to fade. I answered the phone with a smirk.
“What do you want, it’s not like you to be awake so early,” I said teasingly. “What’s going on?”
Barnes was silent.
“Come on, man,” I said. “What the hell is it? What’s going on?”
Barnes sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but have you seen the weather?”
I frowned. “No.” I flashed back to myself and Adele, tangled up in bed the night before. “I was busy last night.”
“Turn on the news,” Barnes said. “I’ll wait.”
There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as I reached for the remote and turned on the news. Sure enough, there was a massive tropical storm…and it was headed right for Nassau.
“You’re kidding,” I said. “The construction just started! There’s no fucking way this can happen right now!” Hot anger bubbled up inside of me, and I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.
“I wish,” Barnes said drily. “I think you’re going to have to go out there.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “What, like fly right into the storm?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Barnes continued. “I started doing a little work on your man, Franchot.”
I groaned. Hearing more about Franchot was the last thing I needed right now – especially if it was bad. And judging from the tone of Barnes’s voice, it certainly wasn’t good.
“What is it?”
“So, a few years back, he was working on a development in Mexico, did you hear about that?”
“No,” I said. “Just get to the point, Barnes. This could be a crisis.”
“Well, he was starting construction just as a hurricane was planning to hit. There was another resort property that had already been built a few miles away. After the storm, Franchot’s property was fine…but the other, existing resort had been completely demolished.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you sound crazy,” I said. “Just because the man is a lunatic doesn’t mean that he’s capable of controlling the weather.”
Barnes snorted. “For someone as smart as you, you can be pretty fucking stupid sometimes,” he replied. “I didn’t mean Franchot controlled the weather – he’s not a deity, for Christ sake. I meant that he destroyed the property himself and blamed the damage on the hurricane.”
Barnes’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out. I gripped the edge of my counter and took a deep breath.
“So, you basically have to go down there and cover your ass,” Barnes said. “Because if you don’t, I guarantee everything is going to be ruined when the storm is over.”
Instead of replying, I turned my attention back to the news station. The large white swirl in the center of the screen looked ominous, but I wasn’t going to let Franchot destroy me and what I hoped to build in Nassau. Losing the new property would be huge. It was a hit that Trident Gold wouldn’t be able to take.
“You’re right,” I said, swallowing. “I have to go.”
“Good man,” Barnes said. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
“Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes and thinking of the last time I was in Nassau for a hurricane. “Me, too.” I sighed. “But it’s what the company needs, and I’m not going to let anyone down.”
Barnes and I hung up, and I flopped on the couch and changed the channel. I couldn’t handle it anymore – the relentless coverage of the growing storm was making me anxious and upset.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch a commercial flight to Nassau. The television showed that most of the major airports were closed, and Miami likely wouldn’t be open by the time we could get there. Instead, I called my pilot, Rico, and told him that we had to leave for Nassau at once.
I packed a suitcase full of bottled water and food that could be safely stored at room temperature before throwing a bunch of clothes into my laptop bag. As I rode out of Boston, towards the small airstrip, I felt grim and nervous. I was well-aware that this could be the last time I saw my home city.
I could die there, I thought as I boarded the plane. The weather in Boston was sunny but cold, and I shivered at the thought of lashing wind and rain. Still, I was determined not to dwell on the negatives. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t progress from a tropical storm to a hurricane, and hopefully, Franchot wouldn’t have had time to put his mittens all over my property by the time he arrived. The thought of catching him in the act took some of the stress away. After all, if Franchot could survive the storm, so could I.
Halfway through the trip, the weather started to turn. I could tell Rico was getting nervous, but he handled the plane with expert hands as we glided through dark grey clouds and flashes of lightning. I took a book out of my bag and tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was the storm. For a few moments, even Adele was pushed out of my head as I thought about what I’d have to do in order to survive.
“Sir, you may want to buckle your seatbelt!” Rico called from the cockpit. “It’s going to be a bit bumpy.”
My hands went cold and sweaty, and I gripped the armrests. I wouldn’t have admitted it for all the money in the world, but flying had always made me a little nervous. I knew that turbulence itself wasn’t dangerous, but it was unsettling to bounce around in the air like the insignificant creature that I was.
True to Rico’s word, the turbulence increased. My book bounced from my lap and landed on the floor of the plane with a soft thud, and I knocked back the rest of my whiskey in an effort to calm myself. It didn’t work. If anything, the alcohol made me feel worse. My hands were trembling and shaking, but I could no longer tell if it was because of the turbulent flight or my anxiety.
“Rico,” I called. “Are you okay?”
There was no answer, and I knew Rico had to be concentrating hard. I decided that when we were both safely back in Boston, I was going to give him a massive pay raise.
The plane bounced and jolted in the air, dropping at an alarming rate. I closed my eyes tightly and tightened the buckle of my seatbelt, trying to press myself tightly into the seat as if it would protect me. I tried to remember the safety instructions I’d heard long ago, but it had been years since I’d paid attention to the instructions of a flight attendant. I took a deep breath, trying to focus.
I cried out as the plane lurched sharply to the side. The overhead compartments opened and my suitcases fell crashing to the floor as oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. Just then, I noticed that it was getting harder to breathe. My lungs burned as I fumbled with one of the flimsy masks, securing the elastic behind my head and sucking in until the bag began to inflate.
The plane dropped again, sending my stomach all the way up my throat. That was when I heard it. The terrible, loud roar of the storm. This is it, I thought. I’m going to die. The thought filled me with a cold, blind panic. For the first time since that morning, I felt fully awake. It was as if I could feel the blood pumping rapidly through my veins, sustaining me in this moment of horror that I couldn’t quite manage to get past.
When I heard Rico screaming “Mayday! Mayday!” from the cockpit, a strange calm feeling descended over me. I knew I was going to die – this was it, and there was no going around it.
Adele’s face swam to the surface of my mind. Adele, I thought as the plane careened through the sky. I’m so sorry. More than anything, I wished I could talk to Adele, to tell her how very sorry I was, to make her understand that she was brilliant and beautiful and lovable.
It was the last thing I thought before I passed out.
--
Something cold and wet was dripping on my face. Groaning, I reached up and tried to pull my blankets over my head to keep me dry. But my blankets weren’t there, and my bed suddenly felt as hard as a rock.
Oh my god, I realized as my eyes flew open. I’m not dead!
I was sitting on the beach of the Hotel St. Charles, soaked to the skin. The skies were dark and angry and grey, and rain was pouring down at a torrential speed. My heart sank when I realized there was no sign of my plane or Rico. Guilt washed over me in a tidal wave.
My whole body was sore and stiff. I groaned in pain as I climbed to my feet and brushed my shaking hands off on my soaked pants. The air was so heavy and thick that I could hardly see, but I knew the hotel couldn’t be far off. I wanted to look for Rico and the wreckage of the plane, but there was no time. Instead, I began trudging up the beach. The ocean was angry and foaming – the waves were bigger than I’d ever seen them – and I felt utterly defeated as I found the wooden stairs that led to the back entrance of the hotel. All of the patio furniture was missing, and the hotel was dark. Still, it would be a safe place to hide and take cover until the storm had passed.
The hotel loomed ahead. The doors were locked, but I broke a pane of glass, punching it and cutting my hand with the sharp shards. Wincing in pain, I reached inside and flicked open the lock The door swung open easily, and I darted inside before closing the door behind me. My hand was bleeding profusely from the glass, but there was nothing I could do about it now. The pain shooting up my arm mingled with the guilt I felt about Rico. Adrenaline was pumping through my body as I made my way through the evacuated hotel – how the fuck could I have been so stupid, and so selfish?
Rico, I’m so sorry, I thought as I glanced outside at the raging storm. I never should have put you in such a dangerous position.
But it was too late. Rico was dead, and it was all my fault. And now I was stuck, alone, on this island all by myself while a powerful storm raged all around me.