Rum Punch Regrets (5 page)

“Ben, I’m sorry. I had no idea this would be the situation when I agreed to come down here on my sister’s behalf. Leigh needed to -- ”

“Leigh!” Captain Cutty was back and obviously acquainted with her sister as well. “You tell her the next time we bet on horses, it won’t be for money. Your sister took $50 from me her last visit. Those were my tips from tourists, and I was going to use it to get my tooth fixed.” This last statement, Abby highly doubted. More than likely he would have bought some more cigarettes and booze. Abby decided she may have just met her first Caribbean crackhead.

“I’ll be glad to pass that along for you.” Abby moved her focus back to Ben. This knowledge that Leigh and Cutty knew each other would have to wait for later as well.

“Abby,” Ben raised a hand and interjected, “look, this is all a surprise. I knew it could happen, the inn being put up for sale; I just thought since I was so close to being done at school I was home free. I know your sister has to do what she has to do, but having someone I don’t know live with me just sucks. You get that, right?”

“I completely agree with you. I was shoved into the alcove in your living room today.” Abby looked at him with her best puppy-dog eyes to instill her own honest intentions. “I have no idea how to handle this or what to do. I just hope we can figure something out and make it so it works for everyone involved.”

Ben was eyeing her, looking into her eyes as if trying to read her mind. He seemed nice enough, but what if he turned out to be the roommate from hell?

“I know this isn’t your fault, Abby,” Ben said thoughtfully. “Look, I’m just under a lot of pressure for the next six weeks.”

“You only payin’ half price, mon. So no complainin’.” Ziggy had suddenly shown back up and was plopping himself down next to Cutty at the bar, handing him a joint as he lit one for himself. Abby noticed he was minus one hot, mysterious, rugged stranger.

“Thanks, Ziggy,” Ben sighed and stared at the beer in his hand. “Leigh has always treated me like I was one of her own, taking me to dinner when she was here visiting, or sending me supplies as I needed them from the States. I want to help, and I will. But I’d be a liar if I did it with a smile on my face and said it was going to be okay.”

Abby nodded and threw back her third drink, getting her fourth from the cup Miss Charles was already refreshing for her.
Damn, this rum punch is great!
Abby had made friends in the stickiest of situations. This one was tough since she had no true upper hand here, and she needed time to decide her course of action.
Until then, I guess I have to take any bullshit this kid dishes at me,
she mulled.

Ben had grabbed a menu off the bar and pointed to an item, asking Miss Charles if he could have “that.” Abby, feeling light-headed and a little buzzed, thought she saw Ben play with his fingers nervously like she did in tense situations. Deciding she was seeing things, she recognized she needed to get something in her stomach and fast, or Ben would witness “Puking Abby” in a few hours.

She guessed Ben was a gentle enough guy, but not one to piss off. Everyone seemed to like him, too. They were like a dysfunctional family in the middle of the Caribbean
. If that’s the case, I should begin to feel more at home any day now,
Abby thought.
Of course, Ben being pissed won’t help my case, but I can win him over. I know I can. Plus, he reminds me of Leigh’s boys . . . same age, same mentality. And I get along with them.

Miss Charles looked at Abby and nodded toward the menu.

“Girl, you want anyting before I throw de order in? Or do you plan to drink your dinner?” She grinned big and crazy at Abby, wiggling her eyebrows and laughing.

Jesus,
Abby thought drunkenly,
these people are either really happy about life or just plain nuts.

“What’s the best thing on the menu? Do you have a nice salad?”

Cutty snorted with a laugh so hard that beer flew out of his nose, causing a ripple of laughter among the ragtag crew.

“No, girl. You Americans and your ‘salad’ . . . Conch fritters. You like dem. I get dose for you.” With that, Miss Charles flounced up the steps to the kitchen that was housed in the main hotel perched on the cliff just above them, overlooking the same view of the Caribbean across to the neighboring island of Nevis.

Abby sat down at the bar on the other side of Cutty. The order at the bar now was Ben, Cutty, Abby, and Ziggy.
Meeting of the minds,
Abby thought sarcastically in her drunken state, as she leaned back to let Ziggy and Cutty pass their joint back and forth.

“You want any?” Ziggy asked.

“Ah . . . Nah. I don’t really do that anymore. But thank you for the offer.” Abby had no clue what the hell they put in their weed and was not about to even begin examining it. Not when she was already feeling floaty and light from her rum punch consumption.

“Ben, may I talk to you alone?” Abby felt if she could get Ben one-on-one for a bit maybe she could begin the slow charm of winning him over so they could make things right.

Ben nodded and pointed to a picnic table that sat on a deck overlooking the water. He grabbed his Carib and began to lope over the sand, not really looking back to see if Abby was joining him. She felt her legs moving a little faster beneath her in an effort to keep up.

“So,” Abby began as she was fumbling to get her legs under the picnic table without falling over in the dark, “you sound like you’re, ummm . . . British?”

Even though it was dark, Abby felt the blank, irritated look on the other side of the table.

“My mum is from London. So, yes. That makes me British.”

“Ah.” Abby smiled and tried to emit warmth to relax Ben’s rigid body.

“Abby, I get it, okay? Maria told me Leigh is selling the place and she needs your help, but having you stay with me when I need to work my hardest is just crazy. The last thing I need is distraction. I’m used to living alone.”

“Ben, don’t you feel like you might just be acting a touch . . . overdramatic?” Abby asked as gently as she could.

“Overdramatic? There’s a woman I don’t know sleeping in my living room and I’m being called overdramatic?”

“Again, Ben, the over-the-top upset you seem to be feeling is really a little bit, too . . . I don’t know. Maybe diva-ish? The way I see it, me and you? We have got to find a way to get along really quickly. Please. No drama, no irritation. And . . . ”

Abby stopped short here to hold her hand in the air and close her eyes for a minute.
Oh god. The spins. No, no, no . . .
She let out a small drunken hiccup and then nodded and kept on going.

“Where was I? Oh. No drama. I don’t want to be the source of any kind of anxiety. Look. You need to finish school, and I need to help with this damn house and then go back home. Get a job and rediscover my love of air conditioning. Feel me?”

Abby couldn’t see his face clearly, but there seemed to be a smile beginning to play on Ben’s lips as he listened to her drunken ramble. Abby’s gift for accidentally entertaining people was one that came in handy for her in moments like these; she could only hope that his apparent amusement meant she was starting to win him over.

“So, Ben. I propose that you and I have what they call in the South a ‘come-to-Jesus meeting,’ where we sit together and lay out our needs and expectations for the other person, so we can make sure that we get what we need from this situation. Cool?”

Ben watched Abby take a swig from her drink and sway just a little on the picnic bench.

“Abby, you don’t drink a lot, do you?”

Abby slammed her cup to the table and giggled at the loud bang it made. “I thought
that
was going to be quieter. No, I don’t drink a lot at all. Why?”

It was at this moment Abby felt her world getting woozy, and she realized the spinning was not slowing down.
Oh God . . . stop the ride. Stop it.
It was like being on that damn plane, except this time . . .

Abby had about five seconds to get off the picnic table and get to the railing so she could set her drinks free into the Caribbean, so to speak. As she struggled to get up from the bench, her legs got twisted under her and she fell backward, landing with a thud so loud that Miss C., Cutty, and Ziggy all jumped up to race over and help her. Abby grabbed her lips to hold them together with one hand, pinching them tightly in an effort to keep any vomit back, and used the other to hold herself steady as she worked her way back up to the table with Ben helping to hoist her up.

As soon as she regained solid footing she paused, feeling that the pukey moment had passed. And she was so wrong. As she relaxed and pulled her hand off her mouth, her stomach made another flip-flop and everything inside it began to make its way out. She turned her head in just enough time to offer up her consumed beverages to the sea. Abby was not a quiet puker. As she threw up and moaned at the same time, her new island family all stood at the picnic table trying not to laugh at her misfortune.

When she was done, Miss C. made her way over and led Abby by the arm away from the deck. She guided Abby to the bar so she could give her a bottle of water and some wet rags to wash her face with. Abby nodded a quiet “thank you,” and plopped down sheepishly on a barstool.

As if on cue, a food-runner came racing down the stairs from the kitchen to bring Ben his dinner and Abby her conch fritters. Miss C. intercepted them before the runner could put them on the bar in front of Abby, in the fear that she could have another episode. Instead, she found some crackers behind the bar and hurried around to place them in Abby’s sweaty hands so she could bring her tummy back under control.

As Abby sat chewing the saltines and sipping her water, Ben grabbed his medium-rare cheeseburger and sat down on the barstool beside her. Abby glared at him over her water bottle.

“I just threw up, you know.” She sounded harsh and didn’t care.

“I’d have to be deaf to have not heard you.” Ben took a big bite of the juicy burger. It was dripping with blue cheese and had hunks of bacon on it as well. Abby thought she was going to be ill again. She found herself chewing her crackers harder.

“Well, this is all going just as painfully as I had hoped,” Abby said as sarcastically as she could muster
.

Abby slid her frosty water bottle across her face in a sad effort to bring her body temperature down to a more normal degree. She could feel Ben’s eyes on her, taking in her every move.

“Abby, this is going to be tough for both of us. I’ve been living alone for a long time, so for me to suddenly have a stranger in my home is just weird.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, took another swig from his bottle and nodded to Miss C. that he was ready for another. “But I can’t afford to say no on many levels.”

“Trust me, I understand. I can’t afford to go somewhere else. And it’s not like I can stay with Maria and Ziggy, since they have the maids’ quarters and it’s not like it’s the biggest of spaces either.” Abby chewed her crackers thoughtfully.

Miss C. had shuffled over and was presenting another bottle of beer to Ben and a fresh bottle of water to Abby. She smiled at the two and patted them each on the head.

“You two will get along jus’ fine. You’ll see.” She chuckled and went back to join Cutty and Ziggy in a card game at the bar.

Abby and Ben sat in silence for a few minutes, the only other prevalent sounds being the slapping of cards as they hit the wooden bar or the lapping of the waves as they splashed the rocks beyond where they sat.
This has to be what it feels like to be on a reality show and everywhere you turn people are playing tricks on you left and right,
she thought. The underlying animosity from Ben would eventually go away, or so she hoped, but in the meantime, she had a lot to do to prove herself, since technically she was the invader.

“I’m going home.” Ben finally broke her thoughts when he pushed back from the bar. “Well,
we
can go home. I can drive you.”

Abby caught a glimpse of something new in Ben’s eyes. Not animosity or irritation, more of a thoughtful nervousness. Like he needed to impress or take care of her, maybe?
That could be what this is all about,
she thought.
He may be freaked because I’m his landlord’s sister and he thinks I’m going to ruin something for him.
Abby had been forgetting that even though Ben seemed mature and experienced, he was also a kid on his last leg of college and still in the process of learning about the world.

Abby relaxed in her seat, letting her shoulders drop slightly, and could feel a small amount of weight coming off them. She knew her approach needed to be different, that she had to take her time and let him learn to trust her. But who knew how long that would take?

Her thoughts were again broken by Ziggy’s loud cackle and the crash of an ashtray as it hit the cement floor. It seemed that Cutty had just lost his card game and was drunkenly stumbling home, flipping the bird over his shoulder to the group as they called out their good-byes. Abby could smell the booze oozing from his pores as he walked away.

“Good thing he’s going to bed,” Ben chuckled. “He has to lead a dive out near Nevis in the morning.” He turned and grinned wickedly at Abby. “And he’s driving the boat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Abby was shocked, not even slightly amused. Just shocked.

“He’s good at what he does. He pisses off tourists and provides local color. He’s the shipwrecked American who came here to get away. No one knows his story, but everyone either loves him or just flat-out hates him. You’ll see. Ready?”

Ben got up and went to settle up with Miss C. Abby had tried to give him some money, but he insisted on paying, so she let him so as to not injure what ego he had left at this moment.

Bidding goodnight to Miss C. and Ziggy, who was smiling even though he couldn’t open his eyes, Abby realized she was beginning to understand the dysfunction of this little group here on the island.
That in itself is a scary thought,
she mused as she climbed into the passenger seat of Ben’s car, heading off to get a good, drunken night’s sleep on her new air mattress.