A Second Chance in Paradise Read online

  Funny thing was, even though her smile was wide when she came up to me, she seemed a tad shy. I couldn’t help it, but she put me to mind of a smitten schoolgirl when she said, “I’m glad you could make it, Sonny. Did you have a good time in Key West?”

  “A real trip!” I said in a tongue-in-cheek tone before quickly catching myself. “Yes ... it was nice down there, kind of like a tropical Greenwich Village.”

  “That’s one fitting analogy if I ever heard one,” she said, taking my hand.

  All of a sudden I thought she might not have been all that bashful after all. With my hand now in hers – tight as she was holding it – I was the one feeling embarrassed. Just like an adrenaline rush does, an arousing flood of heat suddenly coursed through my entire body. Now I was the one feeling like a school kid, and I didn’t like it. I was just about to give myself a mental lambasting but before I could Julie said, “Come with me. I want you to meet some of the locals.” Still hand in hand, feeling as if she were a teacher and I a student in tow, she led me to a wooden table where the three men sat.

  “Guys, this is Sonny Raines. He just came down from Long Island, and he’ll be staying in Mr. Doyle’s trailer for a few days. “Sonny, this is Jack, Buster, and Fred.”

  As I shook hands with them they all seemed friendly enough. When I stretched my arm across the table to shake Jack’s hand, I noticed that he was sitting in a wheelchair. After that I settled into the empty seat next to Julie.

  “What part of Long Island you from?” the stocky, red-headed Jack Beers asked.

  “I grew up in Queens ... but I’ve been out in Smithtown for about 15 years.”

  “Jack’s an ex-Brooklyn policeman,” Julie interjected; obviously intent on making this meeting go smoothly.

  I was about to glance at the wheelchair again but caught myself and said, “This is a long way from Brooklyn, how do you like it down here?”

  “This is as close to heaven as I’ve ever been ... right here on Wreckers Key. Ain’t no other place for me,” Jack said, his neck seemingly having a tough time supporting his slightly bobbing and wavering head. I wondered if he had some kind of physical impairment or if he was just lubed-up from too much beer. There were quite a few empty bottles on the table.

  A moment later the astute-looking, bald guy, Fred Sampson, turned to the ex-cop and said, “Yeah, you were just what we needed here, Beers, another New Yorker.”

  “Okay,” Jack came back, “lighten up there plowboy. Otherwise I might just run you over with my chair.”

  Fred Sampson only smiled. It was obvious the two men were good friends. Fred then turned to me asking, “How are things up north ... the economy picking up at all?”

  “Nope, it’s getting worse all the time.”

  “I hear you,” Fred Sampson came back, as if we were both on the same page. He then laid the cigar he’d been holding in an ashtray, straightened up in his chair a bit, downed a shot of whiskey in one motion and continued, “I used to be a pretty a well-paid economist for a big company up in Indianapolis, until I dropped out. Had my fill of the bullshit corporate scene, came down here eight years ago, and never once looked back. Yupper, I’m like Jack – perfectly content being right here.”

  As I was talking to the two men, I could feel Julie’s alluring eyes locked onto me. Out of the periphery of my own, I’d been watching her. And now she turned her head to the bar. Pa Bell was hustling his tail off behind it when Julie said, “Pa should have asked Sissy to help out tonight. He’s having one heck of a time pouring drinks and serving them to the people at tables, too. I’ll go get ours.” Standing up now she asked, “How about it, anybody for another drink? Sonny, what will you have?”

  After I asked for a Miller Lite and everybody else requested refills, Julie went to the bar, stepped behind it, and got the drinks herself. As she did, all but the most preoccupied male eyes around the noisy circular bar were watching her every move. She was that gorgeous. Even the women sitting on stools watched her, throwing daggers from their jealous eyes. Once Julie returned with all the libations atop a round metal tray, she handed me mine first, and as I thanked her I just had to steal another brief, assessing look. I’d always had a thing for women with long hair, especially long black hair.

  I wasn’t the only person that night who thought Julie was giving most of her attention to me. When she slipped away to the ladies room later on Buster Bell said to me in his slow easy way, “Ya know ... Julie seems to be takin’ a particular likin’ to you.”

  Taken off guard, not knowing what to say, I just looked at him for a quick moment. A big strapping man in his mid-forties, he was wearing a red ball cap with a “Red Man” patch on its crown. By this time he, like the other men, was a few drinks deep, and the cap was tilted way back on his head. The long, sun-bleached hair that hung down in waves from beneath it touched his shoulders and framed a large blocky face. But it was a boyish face, an amiable face.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, dropping my eyes to the beer bottle on the table in front of me then turning it a bit. “I just think she’s being nice because I’m new down here.”

  “Believe me,” Buster came back, “I’ve known Julie for quite a spell now, and I ain’t never seen her get all goo-goo-eyed like she is tonight.”

  “Come on, man,” I said, “she’s just being hospitable.”

  “Hospitable my ass,” Jack Beers chimed in, his voice slightly slurred. “Julie’s got her eye on you, my friend. You’re one lucky guy. I can’t tell you how many men I’ve seen hit on her and get nowhere. She’s a true lady and a class act.”

  I kept to myself the fact that I was still trying to get over the loss of my wife. I also didn’t mention, even after a few beers, that my mind had drifted back to Wendy more than once during our conversation. And I of course didn’t say a word about how I tried to picture Wendy sitting in Julie’s empty seat when she had first gotten up to get the drinks. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel very fortunate that the three men thought I’d been the object of Julie’s attention all evening. I liked that it did seem quite obvious. But then again, there was that lesson I’d learned early in life. The one I picked up firsthand during my adolescence – a man can never take anything for granted when he’s around a woman he doesn’t know too well. There is no way he can be totally sure he knows what’s going on in her mind – not until she comes right out and says it. Nooo, I thought to myself, that’s just her way! She’s nice to everybody.

  But I was wrong. About the time I was getting ready to call it a night, head back to the trailer, something happened. Something convinced me that the way Julie had been acting was far more than just her innate good-natured personality.

  During the entire hour and a half I’d been at Barnacle Bell’s she had only drank one glass of red wine. Another was sitting on the table in front of her by now, but she’d been nursing it for quite some time. Since she hadn’t drank much I knew well and good that while Fred, Buster and Jack were deep into a discussion about the Miami Dolphins the private, alluring smile that rose on Julie’s lips had nothing to do with alcohol. Neither did the telltale look in her eyes – her bedroom eyes. As our eyes locked together, the sixties-throwback duet had just begun a rendition of the old Bee Gees hit To Love Somebody. It’s a slow song, an emotional one, and as soon as Julie heard it she laid her hand on top of my thigh. Her smile widened in a way I can best describe as adoringly, and she whispered in my ear, “Come on, Sonny. Dance with me.”

  Our gaze lingered for just a moment before I stubbed out my eighth cigarette of the day and found myself saying, “Sure ... why not?”

  As if I were some kind of prize, Julie led me by the hand through the crowd. Once we were out on the dance floor, she quickly but gently slid her hands around the small of my back, drawing me toward her. The feeling was incredible; the scent of her perfume, my face nestled against hers, the slight tickle of her ebony hair, the heat from her uplifted breasts and stomach snug against my body. As our hips slowly swa
yed in unison I felt like I was going to implode. Then she held me tighter yet, and together we listened to the music and the old song’s sentimental lyrics.

  As we danced on, something told me that Julie Albright was overwhelmed by desires she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I can’t tell you why, but I just knew it. And I was right. Just before the song ended she whispered something in my ear. Her voice was low and sensual, but I couldn’t quite discern her words. Leaning my head back, I asked her what she’d said. She didn’t answer right away. Instead she studied my face, as if she was double-checking something. Then her eyes shifted to mine. She looked at them – into them, for what seemed like a long time but really wasn’t. It was one of those moments when time seemed to stand still. Finally she spoke. In that same soft, sexy tone she said, “Come home with me, Sonny. Let’s go right now.”

  We said good bye to the guys at the table, paid the tab then drove in the darkness back through the pines to Julie’s trailer.

  As I followed her, I saw in the periphery of my headlights a raccoon coming out of the woods. It stepped quickly to the side of the road, reared up on its hind legs, and looked my way. It was uncanny. In the conical light the black-masked animal’s eyes glowed bright yellow, and they seemed to be looking into the van – directly at me. The creature stared through the windshield, right into my eyes. I didn’t know why but I immediately thought of Wendy. “No!” I said shaking my head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I of course didn’t believe it was a sign or a message or anything hokey like that, but Wendy did appear in my mind. And when I saw her face, I suddenly believed there was no way I’d going inside Julie’s trailer with her. Quickly, frantically, I started scouring my mind for an excuse.

  A minute or so later Julie pulled in alongside her place and I parked next to Doyle’s. I knew by then what I was going to tell her – the truth. That deep inside, angry as I was with my ex-wife, I still hoped we’d somehow get back together. But I didn’t tell Julie that. As I stepped across the thin strip of grass separating the two aluminum trailers, my plan went all to hell. For standing outside her car now, in the soft light of the moon, Julie Albright looked like Venus herself. Not only did the glow from the heavens accentuate every curve of her body, but it highlighted all the kind, beautiful features on her face. I was mesmerized. I’d have followed her anywhere.

  When I walked around her car and stood in front of her she took my hand. I’ll never forget the way that moon reflected in her eyes when she looked up at me and said, “Sonny, I don’t want you to think I’m a fast woman. It’s been quite some time since ... since I’ve been with a man. And when I’m around you, well, I get these feelings. Good feelings, undeniable feelings, feelings that I’ve only felt one other time in my life.”

  She rose to her toes then and kissed my lips gently before saying, “Come with me.”

  And I did.

  Hand in hand, we walked through the screened porch, went inside, and made our way to a small bedroom in the back of her home. After Julie switched on a small bedside lamp, she fused her dark, alluring eyes to mine. She kept them there as she slipped off her halter top and undid the front of her bra. That was it. No longer did anybody or anything else exist. It was all Julie and me. I could no longer hear the crickets outside. There was no Wendy, no Steve Silverman, no Ronald Halstead, or any nagging concerns about my future. It was just the two of us, the here and now, and our carnal instincts. At first we explored each other’s bodies – gently searching, touching, and caressing as we kissed. But the prelude didn’t last long. Soon our anticipation and urges became uncontrollable. Urgently, as if the trailer was on fire and there wasn’t much time, Julie took me and we became one. Flooded by pleasure as we were, our minds no longer seemed to belong to us. There was no thinking. We only did what came natural. Desperately, recklessly, our muscles tightening and bodies shuddering, we made passionate love until finally, simultaneously, we climaxed. In all the years Wendy and I had been together I’d never experienced anything like this. And when it was over, Julie Albright and I slept well together. We were two mates; satisfied, relaxed, so thankful to have found each other.

  The next morning I woke an hour after the sun’s first rays crept through the vertical blinds. Back in the trees, behind the trailer, the two mocking birds were making a ruckus as they ceaselessly squawked at each other. A blue jay called, “Jay, jay, jay,” from a place deeper in the woods, and I turned my head to look at Julie lying beside me. Her naked, flawless body was in the fetal position, a pillow clutched snugly to her white breasts. I studied her, and I couldn’t believe how fortunate I’d been to have found her. But my sense of deep contentment didn’t last. Something happened. I noticed something – something very, very unsettling.

  Julie’s left hand was exposed, just above her pillow, and I was shocked by what I saw. No, I was devastated. There were only three full fingers on her hand. Half of her pinky was missing and all of her ring finger. My face went slack and my lower jaw dropped. All I could do was gawk at her. I felt as if I’d been cheated, as if something too wonderful for words had been stolen from me. As she had sensed my gaze, Julie slowly opened her eyes. She saw my eyes trained on that hand, and the shock on my face. Without lifting her head from the pillow, her eyes pivoted to her lost fingers. Ever so slowly, she closed her hand.

  My eyes then came up to hers, and I didn’t have a clue what to say. I tried in vain to speak, but nothing would come out. What could possibly be appropriate in a situation such as this? Both of us in deep, disappointed thought, Julie continued to look at me and me at her. She was crushed. Finally, unable to counterfeit a smile, she asked, “Should I put some coffee on?” She knew what my answer would be. That strong connection we’d felt since the moment we’d met the morning before just wasn’t there anymore. Poof! As if it had been short-circuited it was gone.

  “No, that’s o.k.” I said as nonchalantly as possible. “I ... I haven’t had any exercise for over a week. I want to jog a few miles before it gets too hot outside.” Then, while rising from the bed I added, “When I run, I have to do it first thing or I won’t do it at all.”

  She said nothing else. She only laid there as I dressed in the quiet. I was disappointed all right, but I was at odds with myself and embarrassed as well. Never had I been in such an awkward situation. I felt like an A-1 heel for not staying to have a cup of coffee with her, but I couldn’t. I had to get out of there. All I wanted to do was bolt.

  When I was finally dressed I looked down at Julie Albright and said in as earnest a voice as I could muster, “Thanks for having me over. I’ll probably see you later.”

  Then I walked out of the trailer.

  Chapter 6

  As soon as I stepped outside I broke into a trot. Passing all the rest of the trailers first then heading up the same narrow road I followed Julie home on the night before, all I could do was think about how she must be reacting right then. I envisioned her staying in her bed alone, thinking. I could see quiet tears making their way down her cheeks. We may have only known each other for twenty-four hours but the mutual attraction we felt – both mental and physical, was undeniable. And it was deep. I knew for sure she really liked me, but there was a lot I didn’t know about Julie Alright.

  I had no idea she hadn’t had a semblance of interest in any man since her modeling days ended sixteen years earlier in New York City. Nor did I know that back then she was engaged to Mark Richardson, a very promising young attorney. Mark was about to become the youngest partner ever at Dalrymple, Stockton and Stockton, one of New York’s most prestigious law firms. Julie and Mark had been dating for two years, and they had a big wedding planned for that fall. The ceremony was to be held in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, followed by a reception at the Waldorf Astoria. Money was no problem for Mark’s parents and they insisted on buying the grandest wedding available. His father, J. Walter Richardson of Scarsdale and Palm Beach, just happened to be the sole heir of the “American Grains” breakfast cereal fortune.

&nbs
p; At that time Julie was one of the big up-and-comers in the modeling world. As a matter of fact, she was just about to cross the threshold to cover-girl fame. But it never happened. One June morning, when she was on her way to the biggest shoot of her career, her sunny future eclipsed totally, and in an instant.

  Sitting in the back seat of a Checker cab, she was headed uptown to the world-renowned Clairidge Studios where she was to pose for an upcoming cover of Vogue Magazine. The sun was beginning to shine, but Madison Avenue was still slick from a late morning rain. Julie, who was sitting behind the driver, cranked down the window and held her left hand out in the breeze, drying her freshly applied nail polish. Then, just as the cab was crossing the intersection at 44th street, another cab, heading east, didn’t bother to stop for the red light. The driver of the at fault cab, one Eloi Hernandez, was so toasted on coke he didn’t even notice the light had turned red. Thoughts of stopping never entered his hopped-up mind until after he’d sped into the intersection – and slammed broadside into Julie’s cab. The impact to the driver’s door was so forceful that her driver’s neck snapped so far sideways it literally cracked. The two vehicles then skidded, smacking sideways into each other, crushing four of Julie’s fingers in the process.