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All American (Part XVI): Roger VaughanChanges
Changes:
All American Part XVI of a novel in many parts by Roger Vaughan
Previously: The year is 1988. Andy Thomas made an ill-advised tactical call during a race in 50foot sailboats that nearly caused a dangerous collision. His father, Mitchell (at the helm), was livid. Later, at the awards dinner, a drunken Andy delivered a public declaration that made it virtually impossible for Mitchell Thomas, a well-known amateur sailor, not to mount a Round the World Race challenge.
Okay, you know the rest, but if you need a refresher, go to www. tidewatertimes.com (writers, Roger Vaughan) where you can find all previous chapters. ***
Given the amount of blood on Andy’s clothes, the late hour and their altered states, Andy, Jan and Eric entered the Iberia Hotel by the back entrance and took the service elevator to the fifth floor. They encountered no one. In the room, Andy rushed to the toilet, long overdue. He noticed that Isha’s cosmetics were gone, neatly packed in their bag perched on the vanity.
He unlocked the fridge, and the three sailors grabbed mini bottles and beers for a nightcap. Andy turned on the TV. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles appeared. Eric went to the bathroom, soaked a hand towel in hot water, removed the bandana and washed the cut on Andy’s arm. “Not bad,” Eric said, as the hot compress made Andy wince. “In my ’hood, anything under six inches was considered a scratch.”
They stared in dull amusement at the Ninja Turtles, which somehow made more sense in Spanish, content to sit and zonk out. After a while, Sargent popped the question.
“What was that all about?”
“Guess they figured I was an easy mark,” Andy said.
“But Señor Ricos? Come on, man, that’s a rough neighborhood joint.”
“Mistake, I guess. Maybe the limo driver was in on it. Dunno.” Andy shrugged. “Good sandwich.”
“And a guy with a knife?” Sargent
All American where he’d had a few drinks and waited for three hours, then had persisted. “Three guys couldn’t re- to fight off muggers. Isha took it lieve a half-drunk American sailor from there. Eric was so entranced of a few pesos? They needed a by this demonstration of Isha’s knife?” ability to talk ears off owls that
“Turns out they did!” Andy said he located the TV remote and rewith a grin. duced the volume of Ninja Turtles,
The three of them howled at that a little at a time, the better to hear just as Isha arrived. All she could this very emotive woman (whose see from the door were Jan and extreme choreographed moves as Eric. From her perspective, Andy she spoke threatened to fling off was out of sight. Isha walked into the scanty clothing concealing her her room at midnight to find a cou- abundant charms at any second) ple guys from All American’s crew carry on about what the plan had she hardly knew watching televi- been, about Roger Davis and Gloria sion, laughing and obviously quite and the limo driver and how she’d drunk ~ in her room, goddammit! ~ told the bloody fool specifically to and she went off un- take Andy to Señor til she took a couple "Oh my God Roberto’s, not Sesteps and saw Andy, look at you. . . ñor Ricos’, my God, a vision that stopped the blood!" wherever in hell that her in her tracks and is, and how they all performed the nearly impossible had waited and waited for Andy to task of shutting her up ~ instantly. show up, and how they had tried It was momentary, Isha was that to call him so many times, and good, but the split second of her hadn’t she said his phone probably face being rearranged into a mask wouldn’t work here in South freakof disbelief is what Andy would re- ing America? And how they were tain as palpably as if it were a photo so worried about him and almost he carried in his wallet. called the police, and now she finds
“Oh, my God, look at you, the him here covered with blood, and blood,” Isha said, then quickly for God’s sake (angrily addressing went on the offensive as she re- Jan and Eric directly), “why didn’t gained her momentum: “You never you people take him to the hospital showed up!” Jan and Eric sat back because isn’t it obvious he needs and marveled at one of Isha’s more medical attention?!” prolonged and inventive mono- It was all Jan and Eric could do logues. Andy got in a line or two not to applaud. “You people” resoabout being taken to Señor Ricos, nated. It was a fantastic perfor118
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All American blowing whatever control they had managed to maintain, and now the mance. But credit the two of them three of them were howling. Eric for being able to maintain blank rolled out of his chair onto the faces, for seeming to take Isha’s floor, helpless. world seriously, for not wanting to That wasn’t quite the reaction queer whatever deal Andy had go- Isha had expected. Like any actress ing. It was Andy who cracked up, whose routine may have backfired, Andy who found blessed relief at she was at once sad and angry. long last in fully appreciating what Seizing the moment, Andy was on an outrageous piece of work he had his feet and putting his arm around on his hands, relief in his dawning her. “Come on, honey,” Andy said, realization of what a polished liar encouraging Jan and Eric with a Isha was, and how her very act of look over Isha’s shoulder. “We’re lying was possibly unmatched for laughing with you, not at you. I its entertainment value. As lying mean, nobody can tell a story like went, she was world class, and it you can.” Jan and Eric nodded and cracked him up. murmured in agreement, and they
It had been damn didn’t have to lie. near impossible for "Nobody can tell Eric clapped. Andy to confront a story “Really, you think the growing suspi- like you can." so?” Isha was concion that Isha was trite, almost tearful, a principle player in a nefarious as she tucked into Andy’s arm. “Abplot to cause him serious harm. He solutely.” Andy’s look at his teamstruggled to get his head around mates told them to wrap it up. that reality. He could only work “We’d better call it a night,” Jan on it a few minutes at a time ~ the said, standing carefully, getting his concept was that. . . offensive. But bearings. Eric hauled himself off helped, perhaps, by having spent the floor with effort. 20 days at sea, the apparent Moun- “I’m coming with you,” Andy tain View crisis, his presence in said. “Just let me get a bag.” “South freaking America,” the cra- “Oh, baby, no, stay here,” Isha zy events of the past evening and crooned as her hand slipped down how he, the useless, overweight, well below Andy’s hip. drunken rich kid, had kicked the “Believe me, I’d love to,” Andy shit out of three toughs with dark said, having decided that his smart intentions ~ one with a knife! ~ the play for the moment was to apply whole thing cracked him up. Andy bygones. “We’ve got an early meetgoing off triggered Jan and Eric, ing with race officials. Best if I’m 122
waking up on site and near a coffee pot.”
“We have a coffee pot right here!”
“Yeah, and Eric did a good job on the nasty cut I got on the boat that opened up, but I need Joe Dugan to make sure it’s not going to get infected.”
“I’ll be sad without you.” Isha was pouting.
“Me, too,” Andy said. “Me, too. But,” he said, making eye contact, “business is business.”
“I know,” she said demurely, looking away. *** The warm, clear night was full of music. It was a fancy affair, a fashion show laid on by the official hosts of the Punta stopover, with all proceeds going to charities. The crews of the eight competing yachts were seated at big tables in their team colors. Heavy hitters from all parts of the city had purchased tables. The men were in blazers and shirts open a button or perhaps two, depending on the quality of their physiques, the quantity of chest hair and the weight in karats of gold chains on display. The women were dressed to the nines, with display a given. A red carpet was set up, with TV crews providing live coverage. The venue was a couple acres of lush lawn mown to championship fairway standards, flanked by an Olympic-sized pool on one side and a grass tennis court on the other. On the back side was a full-size soccer goal, a reminder that the owner of this lavish estate was none other than internationally known footballer Colon Martinez, one of the wealthiest people in Uruguay. His sprawling designer mansion crowned a rise behind the stage and a catwalk that had been built for the fashion show. Lou
Sosa’s rocking 17-piece tango band, with maybe a thousand silver buttons flashing on the musicians’ collective gaucho outfits, made it all move.
Isha had outdone herself and was holding her own in the eyecandy department, despite the impressive collection of local beauties and the presence of stunning models who had been imported and whose flashes of nudity could be glimpsed behind the transparent hedge where they were hastily changing. Isha had gone for a flowing arrangement of featherlight fabrics that seemed to move even in those rare moments when she was still. Her hair was in studied disarray, held precariously in check by a large, jeweled chignon pin. A shame, Andy thought as he watched her endless dance, that it was all such a shuck. He was surprised that the convoluted bit of violence directed at him had caused more curiosity than fear. There 124
All American “Now, where do you think you’re going, you must stay. . .” was a game afoot. He was a player, “Sorry, boat business.” It was an object, by the looks, and he felt Jan, using his King Neptune voice, suddenly quite alive and ready. He putting his arm around Cotton and realized it was quite a new feeling, claiming him with a laugh. It caught but one he rather liked. Isha off guard, and she turned away.
He and Jan were waiting back- Her pout was wasted on the skipper. stage for their cue to join two mod- As Andy was leaving, Eric caught els on the catwalk ~ someone’s idea up with him. of an amusing thing to do, get the “I thought you should have this,” various teams involved in the show. Eric said, handing him a small, There was no slipping out of it, and, soiled envelope, folded in half. “It’s as Jan had said, the company was probably nothing, but I picked it up good. Their lovely partners ar- next to that guy you clobbered at the rived, and the four of them walked bar the other night. Forgot about it. the walk to the Sosa rhythms and Lucky I go through my pockets bethe razzing from the other teams, fore I put my pants in the laundry. lots of whistling and No idea if it’s imporlaughs. Then that It was quite a tant. Thought you was over as their new feeling, one should have it. Just models rushed off he rather liked. in case. Later.” to change without so Eric walked away. much as a nice-to-meet-you. Andy unfolded the envelope and
Back at the team table, Sam Cot- saw “Scotia Bank” printed on it. It ton had arrived. Sam was dapper stopped him for a second, then he in blazer and tie. Andy couldn’t recalled watching Isha with the get over how good he looked. He’d pocket scope, watching her meet lost some weight, and his eyes had the same guy who’d pulled a knife some sparkle. He was working on on him that night, watching her a glass of red as he chatted with walk into Scotia Bank. He felt a the boys. The minute Andy and Jan chill. It made his arm hurt. arrived, he broke off conversation He caught up with Sam and Jan and got to his feet before they could as they got to the house. The butler sit down. recognized Sam, and the three men
“We need to talk. I’ve arranged followed him, walking through sevto go to the house.” eral gorgeous rooms and hallways
Isha, missing nothing, swooped out of interior design magazine over, draping an arm around Sam photographs, to the library. There Cotton’s shoulder. were books, to be sure, but the 126
Fish Filet Table with or without sink.
All American a good head of hair, albeit white, sparring with Jan Sargent. A coutrophies and keepsakes, the auto- ple of first-rate gamers having a go. graphed photographs, balls, cleats “I do have this little token for and jerseys outnumbered them. It you,” Sam said, pulling a thin was an impressive display. They rectangular box from his jacket were barely seated in soft, button- pocket. Jan took the box, opened tufted leather chairs when a wait- it and extracted a pocket scope ress appeared with a tray of drinks much like the one Andy had, only and warm nibbles. an older model. Andy could see Jan
The boat business took about ten was touched. He got up, went to the minutes. Jan gave Sam a report on window overlooking the stage and the leg, talking about tactics and put it to his eye. how the yacht ~ and the crew ~ had “Wow.” He looked back at Sam. behaved. A sailor, Sam understood. “We are on the business side of that Jan told him no changes in person- hedge.” nel were necessary. It was a good Sargent walked back but didn’t team. Sam told Jan the two new sit. He picked up his papers, shook sails had arrived Sam’s hand, gave and gave him an en- "Where do you Andy a wink and velope containing think you're going? left. Sam got up, folcash for local needs, You must stay." lowed him and shut and paperwork indi- the door. cating bills paid. “You friend Jeff Linn called,”
“I’m not sure I understand this Sam said, getting right to it. note you sent me indicating a ‘leg “I know. I didn’t intend for you to bonus’ of $10,000,” Sam said. “Did fly to South America,” Andy said. you or one of the crew injure a leg?” “Good excuse for a change of
Jan smiled. “No, sir. We finished scenery. Besides, the course at the in the top three, on the podium. Cantegril Club is supposed to be The bonus is a race tradition.” excellent. Built in 1929. I have an
“Ah,” Sam said, returning the 8 a.m. tee time tomorrow. Martismile. “I’m afraid it is not a Moss nez set me up. Nice of him.” Sam tradition.” paused, poured himself more wine.
Jan shrugged. “No worries.” Andy relished how calm he felt in Andy loved it. There was Sam Cot- Sam’s presence. In this period of ton, old-school Sam who had re- total suspension, when not too cently turned 80. Sam, whom he much made any sense ~ the days had known since childhood. Short, at sea, the strange country, Isha’s stocky Sam looking fit, still with threatening behavior, the fight that 128
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could have gone wrong ~ having Sam there in the flesh was a reassuring connection to the familiar. Sam knew it. That’s why he’d come.
“I’d bring you the hell home with me,” Sam said, “but Deedee would have a bloody fit. She’s adamant you finish the race. But Jesus, Andy. . .” Sam shook his head. “Jan told me about the fight. A knife? Are you kidding?”
“Yeah. Bad luck.”
“Bullshit. There have been too many of these incidents. That business in the tunnel ten years ago, that could have been you. Jan told me about you going over the side, not clipped on. . .”
“Damn, Sam, you grill Jan?” Andy kept it light, but mention of the tunnel always struck his core. Sam lining it up with Knife Man gave it even more weight. . . “Could have been you?”
“. . .and I know that’s bullshit because you’ve known to clip on since you were ten years old.”
“I thought I had.”
“You had! Who was on the foredeck working with you?”
“Davis. Roger Davis.”
“Same guy who messed with you on the boulders at Outward Bound, right? Same guy who got a tray of food dumped in his lap.”
“You got all this on video?” Andy laughed.
“I liked that, the food dump.” Sam’s grin was short lived. “And now this Mountain Dew thing.”
“View.”
“It’s getting to be a goddam mountain, all right. I don’t like it.”
“Have you found out anything?”
“Mitch spilled the details to
Deedee,” Sam said. “She was mad as hell when Mitch wouldn’t let the company do Mountain View. She found out, hell, Mitch probably told her, knowing she couldn’t do anything about it but stew.”
“What details? How did Mitch know? Sam, for Chrissakes!”
“That George Cooper has vanished along with a lot of money.
That’s about all we know.”
“People don’t just vanish these days.”
“Well, he has. Emptied the escrow account.”
Andy felt like he’d been punched.
“Jesus. Are you kidding?! That needs both our signatures.”
Sam just smiled. “This is a digital age, my boy. Much easier to forge signatures. So things have ground to a halt, except for the lawsuits. But rest assured, Deedee is on your side. She told Mitch she would bail you out. You can imagine how that went down. He can’t block it. I have her power of attorney. Be nice to me.” Sam tilted his glass toward Andy with a grin.
Andy found himself staring at the ceiling again. No cracks this time. It was an extraordinary coffered ceiling, with a soccer ball 130
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“She’s very proud of you for staying with the Race, doing so well. Very proud.”
Andy took a deep breath. “How’s Becky? Sorry she didn’t make it.”
Sam gave Andy one of those looks that fathers cast upon young men who have the audacity to be interested in their daughters. It’s somewhere between the look a buyer puts on a horse and the blank stare a detective lasers on a suspect. “She’s well,” Sam said. “Busy. I heard she was thinking about coming here, but work interfered.” “I don’t know what she does.”
“Photography. Has a studio. Portraits, food, cars, you name it.”
“Really!” “Really.” Both men laughed.
“I have to say, you look really good, Sam, like you’ve turned the clock back.”
“Thanks. I got sick of dragging my ass around, so I decided to do something about it. Changed my diet, started working out, playing more golf. I think it’s the golf that really did it.” *** S am left around 10 p.m. He and Andy had rejoined Jan and the team at the Moss table and had done justice to the delicious Asado
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barbeque of beef, pork, chicken and sausage that was served. Outside the gate, a few taxis were lined up, their drivers sitting on the grass shoulder chatting while they waited for fares. When Sam appeared, a taxi jumped the line and pulled in to where he was standing. The ride back into the city was brief and uneventful until they got into the outskirts. The driver braked suddenly and turned into an alley. Before Sam could protest, the driver had skidded to a stop. A man with a bandana over his face pulled open Sam’s door and grabbed him. The masked man’s mistake was taking Sam for a frail senior. As he was pulled from the car, Sam kneed the man in the groin and shoved him to the ground. Before the man could recover, Sam had pulled a pepper spray pen from his inside pocket and blasted him in the face. He whirled and caught the driver with another blast as he came at him with a club. Both men were temporarily blinded, doubled up on the road, moaning in pain.
“If you think you’re gonna make me miss my tee time tomorrow morning, think again,” Sam told the men he’d disabled. He walked out to the main street to find a more friendly taxi.
Roger Vaughan has lived, worked, and sailed in Oxford since 1980.
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