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He looked like a local—long, thick dreads down his back, brown eyes, thick nose and spotty beard. The red polo he wore had ‘Belizean Cigars’ on the pocket.
My gaze flitted from the very black man to the very white kid and back. Something… didn’t add up.
That’s narrow-minded.
Families came in all shapes and sizes. It was clear the child knew him and, hey, who was I to judge?
My eyes skidded past the father’s worried expression to the child’s relative calm. The self-righteous speech dangling on the tip of my tongue fizzled. I’d met my share of irresponsible parents working as a teacher. People who thought their effort began and ended when they dropped their kids off at the school gate. This guy didn’t strike me as one of them.
“I’m so sorry,” the golf cart driver said. “Is he okay?”
I climbed to my feet and hissed when I felt a pain in the side of my thigh.
The driver frowned. “Are you hurt?”
Ignoring the ache, I whirled on him. “Why were you speeding on a public beach?”
“I had no idea he’d run into the middle of the road!”
I glared at the driver and prepared my tongue-lashing.
A child almost died today.
Someone needed to make sure this never happened again.
3
Deacon
I slung the worn duffel bag over my shoulder and muscled the door of my shop open. Natural sunlight hit the nutmeg-brown floors, lumber tables, and the fully stocked bar behind the counter that held impressive brands.
No, not just impressive.
The best.
Because this was no ordinary bar.
Ambergris Caye boasted more than its fair share of tourist attractions—restaurants, bars, and open clubs. Vacationers flocked the island to sample the culture, the fantastic local cuisine and, of course, the Caribbean Sea.
When I first came to this country, I wanted to set my business apart and did my research, struggling to find an angle that had yet to be explored by local enterprises.
The idea came to me one night. Hit me like a ton of bricks.
Cigars.
I spread my feet apart and stared with pride at the main wall. The black and red logo declared ‘Belizean Cigars’. Premium cigars, distinguished by brand and flavor, waited upon glass shelves.
I sucked in a deep breath. The fragrance of tobacco greeted me like a warm embrace.
Home.
Nothing like it.
With a tired smile, I stepped forward and searched the room for my sole employee. “Rasheed?”
No response.
Another step in.
