Alex Johnson walked to the beach bar carrying a sticky cinnamon roll on a saucer with one hand, making a peace sign with the other. \u201cDos expressos, por favor.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSi.\u201d Vladimiro, the bartender, held up an index, nodding to Sondra Brooks as she sidled up next to Alex with a slim cigar in her mouth. \u201cMomento.\u201d Vladimiro, producing a lighter, hit the butane, cupping his hands to light her Cohiba. \u201cSame as smoked by el presidente.\u201d Stroking an imaginary beard, pointing at Sondra\u2019s stogy. \u201cOnly yours, lady size.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGracias,\u201d Sondra said. Watching Vlad pocket the lighter, go about the coffee drill, she waved at swirls of smoke as Alex picked up a pen from the bar, getting to work on a postcard. He hadn\u2019t but four or five words down when Sondra said, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex looked up, held a hand out, the pen. \u201cWhat, what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not nine-thirty. You, on a Caribbean beach with a lady ten years junior, luckier than a Tomcat with two sacks of nuts, but already making the same face you did when that mystery meat\u2014I said don\u2019t eat it\u2014started repeating on you.\u201d Sondra dragged on her Cohiba. \u201cI just want you to be happy, baby. It\u2019s our vacation.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex looked at her looking past him, watching the sun, blowing her cigar exhaust.<\/p>\n
Ten years junior\u2014ha. Sondra was a handsome lady, yeah, all that processed chestnut hair, almost natural except for the way the sun made it look over-sheened. And man was she wearing that swimsuit, a girl her age, toned. Same time, Alex, was in better shape than anyone he knew, his age, gonna be fifty-eight. It\u2019d be a pretty neat trick for her to do better, divorced more times than him. And what she trying to do back then? Start a new race? Yet there she was, classy lady like that, sucking on a stogie, making like he\u2019s damaged goods. Man, maybe this was too much too soon. Maybe they didn\u2019t know each other well enough to spend a week stranded on a Commie island with no shopping.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook,\u201d he said. \u201cBad enough I got Cecil chain smoking Exports, heavy, on the J-O-B, in the car. Now I got you.\u201d Waving a hand over the delicate floral print of her one-piece bathing suit. \u201cSmoking a stogy same as Castro smokes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sondra bit gently, moving the cigar up and down in her mouth. \u201cWhen in Santiago\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
But, as Alex pointed out, this wasn\u2019t even Santiago proper. Thirty clicks away, and Sondra didn\u2019t tell him about that. No, she just said she got a last-minute deal to go to Santiago\u2014not the Mississauga of Santiago. Now here they were in the middle of Alex didn\u2019t know where. He had the heat rash, some kind of nasty business on the tops of his burnt feet, spent most of yesterday spraying the bowl until Sondra was able to score some black-market Imodium.<\/p>\n
Again, Sondra said Alex shouldn\u2019t have ate that shit looked like Dr. Ballards at the buffet. Yeah, she had said so. Alex\u2019d give her that. But now this was his first day of health proper, and he sees on CNN back in the room how they\u2019re having another revolution not a hundred miles away, Haiti. That was on top of the six hundred Taliban forty-some miles away, Guantanamo, but then Sondra said the Taliban would be skinning white folks if they did get past the landmines. Fine, but she didn\u2019t tell Alex they\u2019d be anywhere near the America base\u2014landmines everywhere\u2014that was his point. Besides, did she now mean to tell him she\u2019s a cigar smoker?<\/p>\n
Sondra blew rings at him, said he didn\u2019t seem worried about any of that last night, at least not after the black-market Imodium kicked in and he took that shower that lasted two times.<\/p>\n
Alex leaned away, seeing her on top of him. Yeah, she knew how to do it. Give her that, too. Plus, she\u2019d brought those sexy safari outfits\u2014cheetah, zebra\u2014so he let the whole thing slide. Took a bite out of his cinnamon bun, waving at the smoke as he consulted Sondra\u2019s pocket-sized English-to-Spanish phrase book, working on his postcard.<\/p>\n
When the expressos arrived, both said gracias, Alex pushing two American singles at Vladimiro. Sondra, pointing down to the cinnamon bun, said, \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex glanced at his plate. \u201cCinnamon sprinkle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d More specific with her index this time, that speck right there. \u201cI mean, what is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother cinnamon sprinkle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why\u2019s it moving, baby?\u201d<\/p>\n
Rather than risk closer inspection, Alex pushed the plate to Vladimiro\u2019s side of the bar, telling Vlad to clean his shit up, standards. That he, Alex, ought to ask for his two Americano dollars back, every one of them trying to give him dengue fever. Vladimiro said Si, but Alex wasn\u2019t supposed to bring outside food to the bar. Alex said there wasn\u2019t a goddamn shop for a half-hour, that he got the bun from the buffet at breakfast, that this was all part of the same hotel. Vlad said Si, but Alex still wasn\u2019t supposed to bring in any outside food.<\/p>\n
Alex let it slide, again, sipping his expresso while he looked over the postcard, adding points of punctuation here and there, addressing it.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat guy.\u201d Sondra chin-pointed at a man with a tiny metallic RCA camcorder a few tables over. \u201cGerman over there.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex looked. \u201cMr. Norbert?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThink Norbert\u2019s his given name.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatever.\u201d Alex talked as he edited. \u201cMan from East Berlin, the one you\u2019re talking. Met him right about here night before last. Says he\u2019s been coming here ever since before the wall came down on account of that was the only hot-spot allowed to Commies going way back\u2014Mr. Norbert.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight, you see what he\u2019s doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex lowered his head, looking over his sunglasses at his Mr. Norbert, then down to the beach, a few topless French and German ladies scattered amongst some Canadians. \u201cJust a dirty old man. Lonesome. Maybe a pecker puller, is what he is, maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think we should say anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh-uh, no.\u201d Alex pushed his glasses back up his nose. \u201cCause an international incident.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you\u2019re a cop, Fraud. You can\u2019t just look the other way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d Alex extended a thumb. \u201cOnly that\u2019s back in Toronto.\u201d Adding an index. \u201cThis being a police state of its own\u2014twitchy Hispanic boys with bad skin at both ends of the complex toting little Russian handguns from the sixties\u2014I\u2019m a wee bit, hmm, out of my jurisdiction.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJurisdiction, give me a break.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex, adding another finger, said, \u201cAlso, Mr. Norbert isn\u2019t committing no fraud, so far as I can see, and Fraud doesn\u2019t do pervs. Like I say, just a dirty old East German man taking video of half-naked ladies gonna splice \u2018em together, wank to it when he gets home, memories of the island. Aside of which, like you said, I am on vacation.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sondra, motioning an open hand down to the beach. \u201cAll those ladies\u2014they don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m telling you, let it slide.\u201d Alex took another sip, looking at the bottom of his cup, coagulated sugar. \u201cLittle cup of coffee like this, you\u2019d think they\u2019d at least fill it to the rim.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s caf\u00e9 de Cuba,\u201d Sondra said, saying it like the locals\u2014Cooba. \u201cYou, expecting a double-double, here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCooba,\u201d Alex said, mimicking her. \u201cGoddamn Coobans got but one kind of coffee, extra strong, one size. You saw how Vladimiro looked at me on day one when I asked could he please make me a latte \u2013like he never heard of such a delicacy?\u201d Holding up Sondra\u2019s phrase book. \u201cSpanish don\u2019t even seem to have a word for it, latte.\u201d<\/p>\n
Squinting, Sondra cast her gaze to this Norbert with the camcorder again. \u201cYou really don\u2019t think we should say anything? You know that shit he\u2019s recording going end up on the same website as that guy got caught taking movies of ladies going pee at the Eaton Centre.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you show \u2018em your ta-tas\u2014like, what, you gonna get \u2018em tanned?\u2014don\u2019t you worry.\u201d Alex shook his head. \u201cAnd not a word, vacation. Last thing I want is confrontation, everyone so touchy these days, especially the French on account of they\u2019re so worried everyone\u2019s trying to dilute their culture. Just put it in your back pocket in case we need it later. Let it slide.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPut it in my pocket? So we pretend we just don\u2019t see what he\u2019s doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike you said.\u201d Alex stroked an imaginary beard, copying Vladimiro. \u201cWhen in Cooba\u2026 Just let it play out on its own. I mean, these people been looking the other way ever since the missile crisis, so let\u2019s us let it slide, too. This is not our country.\u201d<\/p>\n
Leaning over, he signed the postcard, re-reading it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho you writing to, consulting my phrase book like a diplomat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCecil.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCecil? Your partner? Thought this was your vacation from him. Thought you hate him, that he hate you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t hate Cecil\u2014I never said that\u2014just feel better when I\u2019m here and he\u2019s there on account of the Chief Inspector Almano can\u2019t finally blame me next time Cecil takes a cellphone upside a tourist in a case of mistaken identity.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo why you writing him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRattle his cage on account of he told me not to send him anything from Cuba. Said he gets mail from here, he probably ends up on some kind of cross-reference Commie CIA-CSIS list, fuck up his career later on.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sondra said, \u201cSounds like he\u2019s doing a job of that himself.\u201d She looked across the table, smiling at Alex, his closely-cropped white walls\u2014his body lean from paying two alimonies, walking wherever he could to save on the rising cost of gas. \u201cLet me see what you\u2019re writing him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sondra pursed, waving at herself. \u201cJust let me see.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex licked his lips, handed the postcard over. She took it, looking at the black-and-white photo, circa 1961, a young Fidel Castro with a rifle slung over his shoulder, leading fellow revolutionaries through a path in the mountains somewhere near here. Flipping it over, seeing Alex had addressed it to the poor white boy care of headquarters, College Street, she read the inscription.<\/p>\n
\nDear Companero Cecil Bolan,<\/h5>\n
As you can see, we are closing in on the American sektor. el Presidente is wielding his rifle like el nino, leading by example & giving new life to the Revoluci\u00f3n. Nights have been cool, days hot & long. Fortunately cerveza ain\u2019t but a buck, plentiful & strong. De tadaos modos, as we move on to nearby Guantanamo to finally evict the Imperialist Yanquis (their lease done expired in 2002), I thank you for your regular inteligente. With comrades like you throughout the so-called free world, Viktory will soon be ours.<\/h5>\n
In solidarity, Che Guevara Jr. III<\/h5>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Sondra looked up. \u201cIs there even a Che III?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex said there must be, that Che had a bunch of kids he didn\u2019t feel sorry about leaving poor when he resigned from Castro\u2019s cabinet, then went to stir up his Marxist shit elsewhere, the Congo, then Bolivia where the army got him, did biblical shit. Took his pipe, tied him up, posed him for pictures, the mocking, then shot up his arms and legs, waited for him to die. How the fuck did Alex know that? On account of he read about it. Oh yeah, Sondra wanted to know, where did he read that Che didn\u2019t feel bad for leaving the kids poor? Alex pointed over his shoulder, the lobby. The lobby? That\u2019s right, same place where he bought the postcard, they were selling copies of Che\u2019s resignation letter, two dollars. Alex was reading it, in Che\u2019s hand, and right there Che said he didn\u2019t feel bad about leaving them nothing on account of he knew the state would provide for them. Aside from that, Cecil wouldn\u2019t know whether there was a Che III, that Cecil was young, white, and dumb. Main thing was Cecil was getting a Commie postcard at work implying he was a Commie, and that Alex would be back to see the look on his face by the time it got cleared by Havana and sent to Cecil at headquarters in Toronto.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you play with him so, get him riled?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex said hmm, thought it over a few seconds, said, \u201cOn account of I\u2019m in the autumn of my career and I have to work with a boy-man needs so much seasoning.\u201d Rising from the table, pulling an aqua towel\u2014had to leave a twenty-dollar deposit on that thing\u2014off the chair behind him, over his shoulder, he led Sondra downstairs to the beach, setting up under a bamboo umbrella. Sondra said it was called a palapa.<\/p>\n
Despite a day out of the sun on account of the mystery meat, Alex was still a little crispy. He was worried that maybe he had some kind of nasty fungal thing festering on the tops of his elevens, having avoided Sondra\u2019s warning of the ozone on day one, so he wore socks under his sandals, a red pair of light weight cotton karate pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that said MEDIC on the front, red cross with a stick man in the middle.<\/p>\n
Leaning back in his lounge, the headrest fell back a couple notches\u2014klunk, klunk\u2014Alex thinking goddamn Soviet workmanship as he watched white caps crashing against the reef horse-shoeing the beach.<\/p>\n
It was early, little sand crabs digging themselves out from the under, looking at Alex with their antenna eyes, rushing out to sea for the day. Fascinated, he watched their exodus, asking Sondra what did she think of the place, the food?<\/p>\n
She said the hotel was basic, pretty alright, the food plain, mostly, hearty, truck-driver breakfasts. But, in addition to that aforementioned shit looked like Dr. Ballards, what were they thinking with the calamari? Yeah, uh-huh, Alex knew what she was talking about, squid in brown gravy\u2014yuck. Damn Cubans still hadn\u2019t figured out how to cook seafood on account of too much Soviet influence\u2014shoddy Soviet workmanship again. And what the fuck was it with these chaise lounges? As soon as you rest your head, it went klunk, klunk down a down a couple notches. What good was that?<\/p>\n
As for the complex itself, Sondra said it was a jewel in the jungle. They were in the middle of nowhere, sure, but it was a national park, and could Alex believe those screech owls the first night?<\/p>\n
Yeah, he admitted, it was kind of a kick seeing mom and dad teaching junior to fly, junior crash landing in the palms. And look at that, he said, turning around, some poor Hispanic goat on the edge of the cliff, yelling at them\u2014bah, bah. But what was with the vampires? Just garden-variety vegetarian bats living inside the cliffs, Sondra said, pointing at the overhangs two-hundred feet above, the holes.<\/p>\n
Also, did Alex hear what the guy said at breakfast, that it was Club Bucanero\u2019s sixteenth anniversary? That\u2019s why they were having a regatta. But, watching buff Cuban boys swim supplies out to a rustic vessel, Alex said there was only one boat and he was pretty sure it was confiscated during the Bay of Pigs. He watched a woman\u2019s sandy-blonde head emerge from under the water, revealing a bikini that was too tight on her substantial lower half.<\/p>\n
\u201cNice dainties on that Con\u00e7ois,\u201d Sondra said.<\/p>\n
Alex said, \u201cYou know why she do that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? Wears them panties too tight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Like, she think, if she wears tight bottoms no one will notice how generous, but solid, her hindparts are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGot a butt on her, no hiding that.\u201d<\/p>\n
On the edge of the surf, Con\u00e7ois tried to remove her sea socks, necessary equipment as the surf here was more rocky than sandy. But a nice wave knocked her down, Con\u00e7ois scrambling on all fours until she found her footing. Grabbing at her sea socks again, flinging them one by one on the sand, she reached behind her back for her bikini string, pulling it.<\/p>\n
Still a little unaccustomed to this sort of emancipation, Alex looked away as soon as he saw those nip-ons, first to Sondra starring at the same thing, then the woman\u2019s husband. He shot Alex a dirty look, sour. Alex smirked back, thinking fuck it, looking back at Con\u00e7ois, speaking to Sondra.<\/p>\n
\u201cGoddamn, now Beaumont\u2019s eyeballing me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe husband?\u201d Sondra looked sideways at Beaumont, turning to Alex, then Con\u00e7ois. \u201cHe is.\u201d Back to Alex. \u201cTell him to tell her put a top on, he doesn\u2019t want anyone to see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know it,\u201d Alex said. \u201cBut it\u2019s going to be an international incident, I just know that, too. Asides, you were saying something different about Mr. Norbert, the German, just a few minutes gone by ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sondra looked up at the beach bar, said, \u201cOnly Norbert\u2019s taping the French lady\u2019s got no top and a big butt. You, you\u2019re just looking, and I can\u2019t hardly look away myself, them too-small panties on her large hips like one of those underground cartoons by the guy did that Keep on Truckin\u2019 decal. How do you say, \u2018My eyes, my eyes,\u2019 espa\u00f1ol?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex said he didn\u2019t know, for Sondra to check her phrase book.<\/p>\n
Con\u00e7ois was shaking the water out of her hair when Beaumont, in his little cabana trunks, dull green and blue stripes, appeared in front of Alex. \u201cIf you don\u2019t mind, my wife is, how you say timide\u2014self-conscious.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTimide?\u201d Alex looked sideways at Sondra covering her mouth, back to Beaumont, then leaned right so that he could see Con\u00e7ois, now smoothing her hair back, perky little breasts pointing into the sun. \u201cYou sure you have the right word? Looks pretty self-assured to me. How do you mean, self-conscious?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beaumont shifted bare feet in the hot white sand, said, \u201cWhat you are doing is impoli.\u201d<\/p>\n
Impoli? With Sondra mum, letting it slide, Alex tried to think of what to say next, something about how blocking his view was impoli. Like, this was a public beach, at least for folks from out of town, made it okay to look on account of Con\u00e7ois shaking her ta-tas right in front of him. What? Should he, Alex, tuck a fin into her too-small panties? Was that what Beaumont wanted, a tip?<\/p>\n
But before Alex worked up the courage to say any of that, Sondra was speaking up on his behalf. Saying, \u201cListen, Beaumont, I can\u2019t avoid looking at your lady, and I am a slave to the joystick, thanks. Besides, what would you do if I told you some dirty old East German is videotaping your wife right now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEast German?\u201d Beaumont looked around. \u201cI\u2019d, how you say agrafe? Oh yes, I would staple his eyes shut. Where is this man, this East German taping my wife?\u201d<\/p>\n
Beaumont followed Sondra\u2019s index up to the shirtless bald guy, Norbert focusing twenty or thirty feet in front of them, Con\u00e7ois\u2019 torso beading water.<\/p>\n
And with that, Beaumont was off, yelling shit le merde, something about shiza films, while Alex watched Con\u00e7ois tying her hair behind her head, taking her time, seemingly oblivious to everything around her, except, of course, the hot Cuban sun.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook at Beaumont now.\u201d Sondra said. \u201cGot Norbert against the railing, taking his recorder away. Look at him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTold you you\u2019d cause an international incident.\u201d Alex lowered his head, peered over his glasses, then pushed them back up his nose, his eyes following Con\u00e7ois back to her lounge, leaning back, ta-tas pointing into the white-hot sun when her head fell back a couple notches\u2014klunk, klunk\u2014Soviet workmanship again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said look at Beaumont.\u201d Sondra couldn\u2019t believe it. \u201cNot his wife.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex smiled slightly, followed Sondra\u2019s gaze upstairs, Beaumont holding Norbert with one hand, looking into the camera with the other, trying to see what Norbert had been recording. Back to Beaumont\u2019s half-naked wife, Alex said, \u201cGood thing I made sure you didn\u2019t say when we first noticed, like I said. Held onto it until we could use it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe.\u201d Sondra looked up to the bar, Vladimiro interceding between the German and the Parisian now, trying to keep the peace, then back to Alex watching Con\u00e7ois. \u201cLooks like everywhere, somebody\u2019s getting away with something, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
Alex smiled, said, \u201cLooks like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then Sondra sat up, seeing Alex watching Con\u00e7ois oiling up, saying, \u201cHey bitch, want a job?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“An International Incident” finds Toronto Fraud cop Alex Johnson on vacation in Cuba with a woman and a dilemma. Trouble is, an East German is videotaping a topless French woman, and Alex is inclined to let it slide. His girl, not so much.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":15741,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[1167,2093,2621,2095,2094],"class_list":["post-15589","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-crime-fiction","tag-cuba","tag-fiction","tag-low-rent-espionage","tag-toronto","writer-vern-smith"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15589","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15589"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15589\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15742,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15589\/revisions\/15742"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15741"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15589"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15589"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15589"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}