Misspent Youth

43. DECISIONS, DECISIONS

LIGHT FROM A SHARP CRESCENT MOON illuminated Hawksbill Bay’s middle beach in a gentle silver shimmer that turned the sand a spectral platinum and the palm fronds a ghostly oyster-gray. Out to sea, the fancy yachts were lit up by strings of colored lights hanging between their solar panels. Overhead, the constellations formed a loose phosphorescent mist sketching the zodiac across space. Little wavelets sloshed timidly beneath them, providing the only natural movement in the dusky seascape as Jeff walked back to the chalet after dinner. He’d taken his sandals off, carrying them in a crooked finger. The soft dry sand flowed over his toes as he walked, still warm from the brutal afternoon sun.

Both the girls had scampered on ahead as soon as they’d left the restaurant. He could see them as black silhouettes against the lazy silken sea, holding hands as they paddled through the fizzing fringe of surf. They talked quietly together, a conversation occasionally punctuated by one of Karenza’s blithe giggles or an exclamation from Annabelle as she pointed at some fresh part of the superb celestial canopy.

He shook his head softly as he absorbed the scene, laboring to imprint the memory on his mind. This was without doubt the richest world he could ever have wished to be reborn into; every moment of it should be preserved.

A cascade of shooting stars sliced sparkling contrails across the eastern side of the sky. The girls laughed delightedly at the spectacle. Jeff caught up with them, receiving a kiss first from Annabelle; then Karenza stepped up for an equally amorous clinch. He put his arms around both of them, feeling light-headed from the wine they’d had at dinner and the unique aphrodisiac of the night that was to follow. Annabelle leaned in against him, smiling adoringly, and the three of them angled back across the beach, making for the steps that led up to their chalet. The veranda light was on to guide them, a warm topaz glimmer at the top of the little cliff.

Jeff’s excitement quickened with every step. Perched on the tip of the promontory, the chalet was isolated from the others. With that came a perfect sense of liberation. Nothing here bothered him, or Annabelle. In the bar earlier that evening the big wall screen had been showing a European news stream. Commissioner Cherie Beamon had belatedly announced her candidacy for president, allowing media analysts to gleefully demolish her chances with sharp sound-bite summaries condemning her as too late, and too ineffectual. A convoy of three refugee ships attempting to cross the Mediterranean had been intercepted by EuroNavy frigates, and was being escorted back to North Africa. Cameras tracked desperate individuals flinging themselves overboard in an attempt to stop the voyage back to purgatory. Marines in fast inflatable boats zoomed through the waves, plucking the flailing figures out of the water.

Jeff had sipped his chilled Manhattan with a financier called Gore Burnelli who owned one of the yachts anchored offshore, the two of them discussing the industrial-financial implications of the superconductor project while the dreadful images went unwatched. Annabelle was on the other side of the bar, gossiping with the lively Sunset Marina group, telling them all about Stephanie and the beach party. Immersed in the sanctuary of the resort there was no way any of them could engage with the events being portrayed; it was as if they had been relayed from a different, distant planet.

The chalet’s living room lights switched on automatically when they came in, casting a faint, cozy coral glow across the polished hardwood. Jeff’s PCglasses were on the table, emitting the small ruby-red laser sparkle that indicated a priority call. There was no way the interface management program would let it through unless it was genuinely urgent. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he complained. When he held the glasses in front of his face he saw the txt icon was from Alison. That was unusual enough to make him hesitate.

Annabelle’s nose rubbed against his cheek. “Leave it,” she murmured. Karenza was standing at her side, an arm draped over her new friend’s shoulder.

“Just gimme one second,” he pleaded; three Viagra capsules and furious lust were giving him a huge erection.

Annabelle and Karenza shared a demure glance. “Okay then,” Annabelle said. “We’ll leave you to it.” They walked arm in arm into the deep shade of the master bedroom. The door was left half open, permitting a sliver of light from the living room to fall across them.

Jeff hooked the mic down in front of his mouth. “Click, display txt.” Alison’s txt message was curt and to the point, telling him Tim had had an accident on the Jet Ski. The boy had been taken to Peterborough hospital. “Click, call Alison.” The PC-glasses’ standard management display expanded across the lens. On the other side of the crawling neon-glow script the girls began a lingering kiss.

“Jeff?” Alison said. “Thank Christ you called.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. He was riding that damn Jet Ski again. I didn’t even know he was doing it, he told me he was out to see friends. I didn’t know, Jeff.” Her voice sounded anguished.

“Okay, it’s all right, just tell me what happened.”

“Nobody knows, really. He was riding where he shouldn’t be, or something. There was some sort of crash. The staff at Tallington called an ambulance. They took him to Peterborough’s emergency room.”

As the kiss finished, Karenza nuzzled Annabelle’s ear and began whispering, her eyes looking back tauntingly at Jeff. Annabelle nodded dreamily in agreement, and they moved deeper into the bedroom, where the shadows folded around them.

“How is he?” Jeff asked. “What sort of injuries are there?”

“There was a lot of bruising and grazing, that kind of thing. He’s twisted his ankle badly and dislocated a shoulder.”

Jeff shifted slightly, one foot pushing at the bedroom door to send the fan of dusky light sweeping across the darkened room. “Alison! How is he now?” The light drifted across Karenza, who had discarded her little black cocktail dress. Her mass of hair flowed freely, cloaking her back. She looked like an erotic ghost.

“I think he’ll be all right. He was unconscious when they brought him in. But he was awake just before I got here. They’ve put him under observation for the night; they said that was the best thing. He was in mild shock. They thought he might have been concussed, as well.”

Jeff let out a long breath that fright had gathered inside him. “So he’s going to be okay then?”

Karenza stood behind Annabelle, and slowly slid the straps of her dress off over her shoulders, letting it slither onto the floor. Annabelle turned around, putting her hands together behind her head, proudly showing off her body.

“You know doctors,” Alison said. “They won’t commit themselves to anything. The hospital was more interested in what kind of insurance rating he had.”

“Typical.”

“When can you get here?”

Karenza ran her hands sensually over Annabelle’s big breasts, admiring their size; cupping them to find out how full and heavy they were. She smiled slyly as Annabelle’s nipples turned rigid between her skillful fingertips.

Jeff recognized the heat that had risen to Annabelle’s face. Karenza beckoned.

“Jeff?” Alison demanded. “When’s the next flight out?”

Annabelle followed Karenza obediently across the bedroom.

“Do I need to be there? It sounds like he just took a few knocks, nothing too serious.”

“Has all that Caribbean sunlight fried your brain? You’re his father, you should be here. And this is the perfect opportunity for the pair of you to patch things up; show him how much you care.”

Jeff heard Karenza’s husky voice coaxing Annabelle into position, full of reassurance and praise. Then Annabelle’s soft euphoric cries began to fill the chalet, quickly rising in pitch.

“Probably, yeah,” he said. “But a couple of days either way won’t make that much difference. And getting an early flight out of here is going to be tough. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow and find out how he’s getting on, okay? Maybe you can persuade him to accept a call from me.”

“That’s not good enough, Jeff, and you know it.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” With calm precise movements, he took his PCglasses off and strode into the master bedroom. On the four-poster bed, a blissed-out Karenza was making love to Annabelle. Jeff’s gaze never left them as he unhurriedly removed all his clothes. The girls widened their embrace to welcome him.