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I got up slowly.
"Goodnight, Nick, we’ll finish our discussion when you get back," Wanda said suggestively.
"When you get back?" Freeze asked as we made our way down the stairs. "Where the fuck you goin’?"
"I’m goin’ to meet Shy."
* * *
Chapter Twenty-eight
My cab pulled up in front of Black’s Paradise, in Freeport, on Grand Bahama Island. I paid the cab driver and tipped him nicely. I opened my suitcase and while the driver looked on in horror, I took my gun and extra clips out of the bag. I got out of the cab, put the gun in my waist and pulled my shirt down over it. I put the clips in my back pocket while I walked toward the door.
As I got closer I could hear the sound of reggae music. I’d reserved a room at The Bahama Princess Hotel, but I decided to come to the club first. I went inside and wandered around looking for Black. Not seeing him anywhere I stepped to the bar to get a drink and ask for him. A very pretty bartender came over to see what I was drinking. "What can I get for you?" the bartender asked.
"Johnnie Walker Black, straight up."
"Comin’ up," she replied as she poured my drink. "Can I get you a menu?"
"Yeah," I said. "I heard the food was great here." She handed me the menu and I glanced at it. "What do you recommend?"
"That depends, how hungry are you?"
"I haven’t eaten all day, unless you call peanuts on the plane coming down here eating."
"Then you definitely want to try our Bahamian Platter. It’s a taste of almost everything on the menu."
"Then that’s what I’m having."
The bartender walked away to give the kitchen my order, but returned quickly. "Just got in, huh?"
"Yes," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "Just got in from New York."
"Really, I’m from New York."
"Oh yeah," I said, thinking that it figured that Black would hire somebody from New York to handle his money. "What part?"
"The Bronx."
"I’m from The Bronx. In fact, I came here to surprise an old friend. I was hoping he’d be here."
"Really. What’s your friends name?"
"Mike Black, is he here?"
"Who are you?"
"I’m sorry, my name is Nick Simmons."
The bartender smiled, "Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I was beginning to think you were just a figment of everyone’s imagination."
"No, I’m for real," I paused. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage here. I mean, you seem to know me, but I haven’t had the pleasure of making your acquaintance," I said looking at the huge rock on her finger. Why are all the really fine ones always married?
"Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Shy, Mike Black is my husband," she said extending her hand.
Not only is she married, but she’s Black’s wife. When will I ever learn? I shook her hand, "So, you’re the famous Shy." Shy shook her head and smiled. "Well it is truly a pleasure to finally met you, too. I’ve heard a lot about you, but I knew that you weren’t imaginary. It took a real woman to get Black out of New York," I said finishing my drink. Shy poured me another and left the bottle.
"It was Black’s idea to move down here. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You know, fun and sun everyday. But to be honest with you, Nick," Shy paused a second and looked around. "It’s boring as hell here."
