Trouble In Trinidad

by William Manchee

Chapter 5

    The flight back to Dallas was uneventful until it came time to land. A line of thunderstorms was approaching the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport from the northwest. The pilot advised the passengers that he thought he could beat the storm. Otherwise, they'd have to circle a while. As the American Airlines jet made its approach, the plane was jolted up and down. A few of the passengers verbalized their displeasure at being jostled around. When the wheels finally hit the runway, everyone gave a sigh of relief.
    The ride home was slowed by a driving rain. LBJ Freeway was jammed up. It took nearly an hour and a half for the Wells family to get back to Plano. It was still drizzling when they pulled into their driveway. They had barely made it in the door when the phone rang. Pat Wells answered it.
    "Hello."
    "Hi, Mrs. Wells. Is Kevin there?"
    "Sure, hang on."
    "Kevin, it's for you."
    Kevin went upstairs to his room and picked up the phone.
    "Hello."
    "Kevin?" Paula asked.
    "Oh hi, Paula," Kevin replied.
    "I saw you last night on Leno. You were fabulous."
    "Oh, thank you."
    "I didn't like that slut, Uma Thurman, kissing you though."
    "She's not a slut, she's nice. She’s one of my favorite actresses."
    "Really. Well anyway, forget her. I just wanted to see if you wanted to get together and hang out a while."
    "Sure, that would be great. Let me check with my mom, I don’t know if she has anything planned. I'll call you tomorrow."
    "Okay, I'll be in all morning."
    "Okay, bye."
    "Bye."
    Kevin hung up the phone and was about to go downstairs to help unload the luggage from the car when the phone rang again.
    "Hello."
    "Kevin, my man."
    "Brent, what's going on?"
   "Hey, I saw you on Leno last night. Oh God! You kissed Uma Thurman. What was it like?"
    "Interesting."
    "Interesting? Right, . . . yeah very interesting, I bet. Hey, I've got a Playboy layout of her I stole from my big brother. I'll bring it over if you want to see it?"
    "No, that's okay. I don't want to spoil the memory."
    "You're right. You don't have to fantasize. You've felt her sweet, succulent lips. Oh God, what luck you've had!"
    "I know."
    "What if Jay would have had Rosanne on?" Brent laughed.
    "I wouldn't have let her get near me. If she’d tried to kiss me, I would have puked on national television."
    "That would have been cute. Hey, you want to catch a movie tonight?"
    "I don’t know, I’m kind of tired.”
    “Come on, I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
    “Okay, I need to get unpacked and have dinner first. We can go to a late show."
    "Good, I'll pick you up at nine-thirty."
    "Okay, see you then."
    Kevin hung up the phone and started to go downstairs again. Before he got to the door, the phone rang again.
    "Shit! . . . Hello."
    "Kevin?"
    "Yes, who’s this?"
    "Stacy."
    Kevin drew a blank. "Stacy?”
    “Yes, the library, remember?”
    “Oh, right. . . . Stacy. How are you?"
    "Fine. Listen, about our last meeting. You know, when Paula had me give you a hard time about the virginity thing? Well, I’ve really been feeling bad about that. It was mean, I know."
    “Forget it. It was all in good fun. Paula's a real tease sometimes."
    "What I told you about being a virgin?” Stacy said, “Well, it's not really true. Obviously it's not true. I mean, who is a virgin anymore these days?"
    Kevin laughed. "Right."
    "But, I'm almost a virgin. I mean I never have sex with two guys at the same time."
    "Really?"
    "I mean. . . . You know. . . . I just do it with the guy I'm going with. I'm faithful to my guy."
    "Well, that's good to hear."
    "So, do you want to get together?"
    "Us? Well, I'm hanging around with Paula tomorrow. Why don't you come too? Maybe we can find something interesting to do."
    "Oh good! I'll call Paula and tell her you invited me to hang with you guys."
    "Cool. See you tomorrow."
    "Okay, bye."
    Kevin started to hang up the phone, but then hesitated a minute. Instead of hanging it up he placed the receiver next to the phone and then went downstairs.
    "Who was that on the phone, honey?"
    "Paula, Brent, and then, Stacy."
    "Oh boy. I'm afraid your life won't be the same for a while."
    "It's okay, they're my friends. I don't want to let this thing go to my head. I'm still the same guy I was three months ago. The only thing that's changed is everybody in the world knows I exist now."
    "And wherever you go, people will recognize you, because you've been on Leno."
    "That could have its advantages," Kevin said.
    "That's right, absolutely.”
    "And its drawbacks."
    "Don't worry about it, honey. It will all work out."
That night, Brent and Kevin went to the movies. Afterward, they went to Starbucks for coffee where they ran into a couple of their friends. Kevin told them all about his trip to California, meeting the President and kissing Uma Thurman. When he got home after midnight, he was exhausted. Without even getting undressed, he collapsed on his bed and fell asleep.
    In his mind, he traveled back in time to the day he left the hospital. He turned toward the door and saw Kiran stroll into the room. She was so beautiful, the sight of her sent a tingling sensation throughout his body. She smiled as she knelt down in front of him and took his hands in hers. The feel of her warm grasp excited him beyond belief. He pulled her up next to him and looked deep into her eyes. She laughed and pulled away. When she turned her back on him, he put his arms on her shoulders and turned her abruptly around. Without the slightest resistance, she let him pull her close to him. He felt her warmth and radiant energy. His lips were drawn to hers by a force so strong it was futile to resist. In the midst of their passion, the door flew open, rudely interrupting them. Kiran looked up and quickly pulled herself away. She looked back at Kevin, smiled and ran out the door. He followed after her, but beyond the door was a thick fog through which he could see nothing.
"Kiran, come back! Come back!" he yelled. The outcry jolted him from his slumber.
    He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. His face was wet and his clothes were saturated. He looked at his clock radio. It was one-thirty. After taking a deep breath and contemplating his dream for a moment, he turned over and went back to sleep.
    The following day was Sunday. After mass, Paula called and suggested they go to the mall, have lunch and mess around. Kevin agreed and promised to meet them at the food court. When he arrived, he was in a somber mood. His thoughts had been on Kiran all morning. He wanted to see her again, but he knew that would never happen. She was thousands of miles away–gone forever. When he saw Paula and Stacy, he forced a smile.
    "Hi, girls."
    "Hi, Kevin," they said cheerfully.
    "So what’s for lunch?"
    "We can't decide. It’s between a stuffed potato or a salad."
    "How about Arbys?"
    "Arbys?" Paula said with a frown. "That kind of food will clog your arteries, won’t it Stacy?”
    Stacy nodded.
    Kevin shrugged. “Maybe so, but it tastes good.”
    “Okay, whatever."
    Kevin led the way to Arbys and the threesome ordered. After getting their food, they sat down at a table overlooking a beautiful fountain.
    "I love the mall," Stacy said. "It's always so warm and dry, even if it's raining outside."
    "I think that was the plan, Stacy," Kevin laughed.
    "I know. The people who built this place were pretty smart," Stacy said.
Paula stared at Stacy for a moment and then cleared her throat. She said, "So, Kevin, how did it feel to be on Leno?"
    "Pretty weird, actually. It was like I was in a dream. I kept expecting to wake up."
    "I can imagine," Paula said.
    "How is your back?" Stacy asked. "It must have hurt when that bullet hit you."
    "No shit!" Kevin said.
    Paula began to laugh, Kevin smiled at her and Stacy gave her a dirty look.
    "What's so funny? I bet you wouldn't like it if someone shot you in the back."
    "No, I'm sorry,” Paula said. “I wouldn't."
    "So when is our next tournament, Paula?" Kevin asked.
    "Next weekend, at South Garland High School."
    "God, I'm so far behind on everything, I don't know if I'll be ready by next weekend."
    "I'll help you get ready, don't worry."
    "Thanks. Can I get all your notes from class for the last few weeks?"
    "Sure."
    "Brent offered me his, but somehow I doubt everything Mrs. White lectured on could fit on a single index card."
    "No. I've got at least fifty pages of notes."
    "Good."
    After the trio had finished lunch, they walked around the mall for a while and talked, but Kevin didn't have his mind on his companions. He was off in Trinidad, with his new found love, Kiran.
    "So what shall we do now, guys?" Stacy inquired.
    “Hey, listen. It's been fun, but I need to get home and start catching up on my homework. I'm probably not going to be such great company right now anyway. My mind can’t seem to focus."
    "Okay, I understand, Kevin. Do you want me to come with you and help?" Paula said.
    "No, I'm so far behind, it's going to take me a while to get organized enough to know what help I need. I'll get with you next week when I know better where I'm at."
    "You sure?"
    "Yeah, I'll see you girls later."
    After Kevin had left, the two girls turned into Dillard's and began looking at blouses.
    "Look at this. I'd die to have this," Stacy said.
    "It's a little flashy don't you think?"   
    "Maybe."
    "I hope Kevin's going to be all right."
    "What do you mean?" Stacy asked.
    "He seemed very depressed."
    "Huh? I didn't notice that."
    "You don't know him as well as I do,” Paula noted. “Something is bothering him."
Stacy frowned. "I wonder what it is?"
    "Who knows? Maybe he's got a crush on Uma Thurman."

Chapter 6

South Garland High School was packed with students from all over the state. It was the regional debate championships. In past tournaments, Plano High School had been the team to beat and they were favorites again this year. It was late Saturday afternoon, Paula and Alice were watching Kevin's third round debate. The round wasn't going well for Kevin who was up against a tenacious young lady from Cleburne.
"What's wrong with Kevin, I wonder?" Paula said.
"I don't know. Maybe he’s just rusty from being out of school so long," Alice suggested.
"No. I worked with him Thursday night and he knew everything cold."
"Huh. Then why is he letting that little cheese-ball walk all over him?"
"He's not concentrating. Look at him, his mind is off in la la land."
"It's this celibacy thing,” Alice said. “The guy needs a good screw."
"No, that's not it. Something has been bothering him ever since he left the hospital."
"Well, if you ask me, if you and I locked him in a room and fucked the shit out of him, he'd be fine."
"Well, he wouldn't let us do that, he’d high tail it." Paula laughed.
"Hell, we'll put burglar bars on the windows and dead bolts on the door."
Paula shook her head skeptically. "Somehow, I don't think that would work."
When the debate was over, a somber Kevin walked the girls back to Plano's staging area.
"So. I hope you girls did better than I did today."
"We both won our rounds," Paula said.
"Good. How's the team doing?"
"We're in second place," Paula replied.
"We needed you to win, Kevin," Alice said. "How come you let that little Nazi beat you?"
"I don't know. I just can't get psyched up since I've been back."
"Well, don't worry about it.” Paula sighed. “I still think we'll win the tournament. Everyone else is doing well."
"I hate to be a drag on the team. I just wish I could forget everything that's happened to me. I can't concentrate anymore. I don't know what's the matter with me."
"Will you come watch my final round? You can give me some moral support, at least," Paula said.
"Sure, I'd love to."
"Good. I'll be in room 232B, at three forty-five."
"I'll be there."
The girls went off to their next event. Kevin walked outside and strolled around the campus. That was one thing Kevin hated about debate tournaments. If you lost, there was nothing to do but twiddle your thumbs the rest of the day. Kevin found a pleasant spot overlooking a pond. He watched two ducks sliding across the water and a kid fishing from the bank. Before long his mind began to wander and he started to daydream.
He was in a magnificent bedroom, ornately decorated in eastern decor. He was wearing only silk pajama bottoms. He went to the mirror and admired his fine muscular body. Hearing a noise, he looked up and saw Kiran walking toward him. She was so beautiful, a surge of joy exploded within him. She wore a long, sheer nightgown, white as snow and clear as a crystal goblet. Kevin tried to breathe, but he couldn't. Finally, she strutted over to him, twirled around so he could see every part of her and then stood directly in front of him.
"Oh, my God! You're more beautiful than I could ever have imagined."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure."
"What about that girl, Uma? Am I more beautiful than Uma?"
Kevin laughed, "Oh yes. Much more beautiful than her. He took her by the hand and gently pulled her towards him. Their eyes locked, then he pushed her gently onto the bed and leaned over to get a good look at her. He gazed at her supple breasts and smooth, flat stomach. She lay motionless, beckoning him to explore every part of her body. He rose to remove his pants. Then, carefully, he pulled her nightgown up over her head and dropped it to the ground. She smiled slyly, waiting patiently as he gazed at her naked body.
"Kevin, wake up!" Alice yelled.
Kevin jumped. "Huh?"
"Wake up! What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be watching Paula's debate. She's going to be pissed if you're not there. Come on. It's about to start."
Kevin shot her an annoyed look. "Okay. Okay. I'm coming.” He wanted to close his eyes again and return to the bed of his lover, but he knew it was no use. Damn you, Alice!
After slowly getting up, he followed her to the classroom where Paula was about to start her debate. They took a couple of seats near hers. She shook her head.
"Where have you two been? I thought you deserted me."
"This big lug was outside, sound asleep. It took me thirty minutes to find him."
Kevin shrugged in response to Paula's disgusted look. The debate began and it wasn't long before it was clear Paula would be victorious. She had the ability to destroy any opponent with subtle sarcasm. Her opponent today was no match for her. Unfortunately, Plano came up two points short and placed second in the tournament. Kevin felt badly. If he had won but one more round, Plano would be the regional champions. The bus ride home was somber and Kevin avoided everyone for the remainder of the weekend.
*****
On Monday, Kevin had an appointment with the FBI. Since he was the only person who had seen the would-be assassin, the FBI wanted him to look through mug sheets and computer photographs of possible suspects. He left at eight-thirty, drove downtown to the FBI headquarters and asked for Agent Simmons. After a minute, Simmons strolled into the waiting room.
"Hey, Kevin. Thanks for coming down today," Agent Simmons said.
"No problem."
"How's the hole in your back?"
"Healing nicely, I believe."
"Good. We've got everything set up for you."
"Okay, I'm ready, I guess. I just hope I can remember what he looked like."
"I’m sure you will. We've got a lot of pictures for you to look at. I hope you planned to be here the whole day."
"Yeah. I told my counselor I'd have to miss all my classes. I'll need a note from you though, so they won't count it as an unexcused absence."
"No problem. Don't let me forget to give it to you before you leave."
Agent Simmons led Kevin through a door and down a long corridor. After a minute, they came to another door with a security pad on it. Simmons punched in the code and a buzzer sounded. He held the door open so Kevin could enter. Inside the room was a large table with numerous stacks of mug books and a computer terminal.
"Okay, just sit down. I'll turn the computer on and show you how to flip from one photo to the other."
Kevin watched the screen illuminate. Agent Simmons typed some commands on the keyboard and a picture of a black male in his mid-twenties appeared.
"That's not him."
"Well, just hit return when you want to move on to the next picture. There were about two thousand pictures that came up from the parameters we fed the computer."
"Two thousand?"
"Yeah," agent Simmons laughed. "Don't worry though. You'll get through them pretty fast. When you're done with them, we've got eight or nine mug books."
"Jesus! Come get me next week."
"It won't be that bad. I'll check on you in a couple hours. If you happen to find anyone that looks familiar, pick up the telephone and dial two-three-one-four. That's my extension."
"Okay."
Agent Simmons left the room and Kevin began to flip through the computer photographs. It was slow going at first, because Kevin studied each face carefully. As time went on, he began flipping the pictures more and more quickly. After going through the first thousand or so, he got up to stretch his legs. He went to the bathroom, snooped around the room a little, then sat back down and started going through the remainder of the pictures. He was getting pretty bored, so he started flipping the pictures faster and faster. Suddenly, he saw someone who looked familiar. He stopped a moment. Then he flipped back to the last picture he had seen. It was the picture of Ray Mohammed from San Fernando, Trinidad. He had dark skin, a beard and a scar above his left cheek bone. His eyes were brown with a slight greenish tint. Kevin closed his eyes and thought back to when he saw the assassin sitting with the band. He could see the man in his mind's eye, but he wasn't sure about the scar. He hadn't been close enough for it to stick out.
Kevin wrote down the number of the photo and went on. Hundreds of photos later, he ran across another photograph that also looked like his assailant. This photograph was identified as Peter Gosne from Tunapuna, Trinidad. This man didn't have a scar, but looked very similar to the first suspect. Kevin stared at the face on the screen. Again, he closed his eyes to try to determine if this was the man. He opened up his eyes again and looked at the sinister character, who seemed to be staring back at him. Just then the door opened and Agent Simmons walked in.
"How are we doing?"
"I don't know. I've found two photographs and either one could be the man."
"Good, who are they?"
"This guy, Peter Gosne and then, another guy named Ray Mohammed."
"Hmm. Let me print them out. We'll get them out on the wire and see what happens. Nice job."
"I just hope one of them is the guy. It's so hard to be sure. I just saw him for maybe thirty seconds."
"There must have been something about him that got your attention, otherwise you would have no recollection of him at all."
"Well, I was watching the band setting up in the pit in front of the stage when I noticed him just standing there, looking around. He must have felt my stare, because he glanced at me, then picked up his case and slipped away, out a side door. I think it was the fact that he took his instrument that got my attention. I wondered why he would be leaving before the band had performed. It was just kind of strange, I thought."
"Hmm. . . . Well, it's nearly five o'clock. I think you've done enough today. Go on home and I'll keep you posted. Okay?"
"All right. I'll need that note."
"Oh, sure," Agent Simmons said as he pulled an envelope out of his inside pocket. "I've got it right here."
Agent Simmons walked Kevin to the waiting room and thanked him again for coming. Kevin left and headed back home on Central Expressway. It was rush hour, so traffic was slow. As he was sitting in traffic, he thought about Kiran and how much he wanted to see her. He knew that the likelihood of that was next to nil. His depression intensified as he analyzed his desperate predicament. What if Kiran didn't have as strong of feelings for me as I do for her? I could spurn every woman I met, hoping, praying for the day I’d finally meet her, only to be rejected.
Suddenly he realized how foolish he had been. He had to forget Kiran. She was just a dream, a figment of his imagination. She wasn't real. When Kevin got back to Plano, he decided to stop by Plano High. He wanted to pick up some books so he could study when he got home. He walked into the main building and headed for his locker. As he was rummaging through his books, deciding what to take home, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around quickly and was surprised to see Stacy smiling at him. She was wearing a halter top and the shortest shorts Kevin had ever seen. Her legs were sleek and deeply tanned. It was a pleasant surprise.
"Oh. Hi, Stacy. You startled me. I didn’t hear you walk up.”
She smiled, obviously amused at his reaction. “You're here awfully late," she said.
“Yeah, I had to go downtown today and look through mug shots.”
“Mug shots?”
“Yeah, the FBI asked me to do it. You know, to see if I could identify the guy who shot me.”
Stacy nodded.
“Since I missed some classes, I thought I better get some books so I could study tonight. . . . Although I don’t feel much like it, actually.”
“How come?”
Kevin closed his locker and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just been kind of down lately. I guess I’m just coming back to earth after all the excitement in my life.”
“You feel kind of lost, right? Like you just don’t know what to do next?”
“Yeah. . . . Something like that.”
“I know what you mean. I feel that way every year when football season is over and there are no more cheerleading practices to go to. It’s like–What am I going to do all afternoon every day?”
“Hmm. . . . So is that why you’re here so late?"
"Right, we have it every single day."
“Don’t you get tired of practicing all the time?”
“No, I like it and it keeps me in shape.”
Kevin gave Stacy's body a once over.
"I can see that."
Stacy’s eyes thanked him for the compliment. She said, "Hey my parents are going out tonight. We could study together."
"Study together? Hmm. I don’t know. . . . I haven't eaten yet and I should probably get home."
"I'll cook for you," Stacy replied.
Kevin pondered the idea a moment, obviously intrigued. "That's really nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s not any trouble.”
“Do you like to cook?"
"Sure, I make great lasagna. We can stop on the way home and get what we need. It would be fun. Come on. Let me cook for you and then we can study."
Kevin shrugged. "All right, if you're sure, but it seems like a lot of trouble."
"I've got to eat anyway. If I were alone, I'd probably have junk food. This will be better. You can tell me all about what happened today."
"It wasn't very exciting. I think I looked through two or three thousand photographs."
"That's sounds pretty exciting to me. You know, helping the FBI and everything,” she said taking his hand. “Let's go. You can tell me about it on the way. I'll drive, since I know where we're going.”
Kevin laughed at Stacy's enthusiasm. What she was lacking in intellect, she certainly made up in charm and beauty. Stacy led Kevin out to the parking lot to Stacy's Mazda Miata convertible. Kevin stopped a few feet away and gave the car a good look.
He smiled and said, "I love your car. It's definitely you."
"My dad gave it to me when I made the cheerleading squad. He said since I was the prettiest girl at Plano High School, I needed a car that complimented my beauty."
"Well, I think you'd look good in just about any car, Stacy."
"Do you really think so?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. You’re probably the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"Including Uma Thurman?"
Kevin laughed, then shook his head affirmatively. "Yes, absolutely. She doesn't hold a candle to you."
"Oh, you're so sweet, Kevin. We're going to have so much fun tonight!"
A few minutes later, they were shopping at Tom Thumb. Kevin enjoyed watching Stacy shop. He couldn't believe that any human being could get so much joy out of buying tomato paste and ricotta cheese. Stacy's happiness was becoming intoxicating. Soon, Kevin was laughing and having a great time. Once they finished shopping, Stacy drove them to her house. It was a nice home at the end of a cul-de-sac. Kevin looked around to see if anyone had noticed them drive up. The street was quiet.
"When will your parents be home?"
"Oh, not until after midnight. They're going to dinner with some friends. Then they've got theater tickets. After the show, they usually stop off at a club and have a few drinks. We've got the place to ourselves for at least six hours."
"Huh. You sure live in a nice neighborhood."
"Thank you."
Stacy grabbed Kevin's hand again and led him to the front door. Kevin felt a tinge of excitement feeling Stacy's warm grasp. But when she opened the door and he walked into the spacious house, he suddenly felt awkward. What am I doing here?
"Come on in. Let's go back to the kitchen. We can have some wine to drink while I'm cooking."
"I don’t know if we should be drinking if we plan to get any studying done."
“Oh, come on. One glass won’t hurt you.”
Kevin raised his eyebrows but didn’t argue the point.
“Nice house,” he said.
"Thank you."
"My dad is a dentist. He does pretty well, unless the economy gets sluggish. Daddy says that dentists are the first thing people drop from their budget if cash gets tight. That's why he always saves as much money as he can."
"Your dad's a smart guy."
"He is. He's wonderful."
Stacy began pulling out bowls and ingredients for her lasagna, spreading them out on the counter. Kevin watched her in amazement. He never had imagined her being such a whiz in the kitchen.
"Oh, the wine. It's in the refrigerator, in the bar. Get us some blush, okay?"
Kevin hesitated. He had promised himself he’d never drink again, but he hated to spoil the party. Stacy was having so much fun.
“I don’t drink, actually,” he finally blurted out.
She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You may be able to fool your friends, but you can’t fool me.”
“Excuse me?” Kevin said.
She laughed. “Go, silly. It’s in the bar.”
Kevin didn’t move. Stacy stopped and their eyes locked.
They stared at each other for several long seconds before Kevin finally looked away.
“Please Kevin, get the wine. You can’t eat Italian without wine.”
He threw up his hands. "Okay, okay, I’ll get the wine."
Kevin went in the direction Stacy had pointed and spotted a bar in the den. He opened the refrigerator. Sure enough, there were several bottles of blush, as well as an assortment of other wines. If they ran out, he noted there was a full wine rack above the bar filled with at least fifty bottles. Kevin grabbed a bottle of blush and a couple of glasses and went back into the kitchen. He opened the bottle and poured two glasses to the brim.
Stacy smiled at him, grabbed one of the glasses and took a swig.
"Oh, I love this stuff."
Kevin gave it a whiff and then tried it. It had an interesting bite he thought. He took another sip.
"Yeah, not bad," he said.
Before long Stacy had her masterpiece in the oven. She and Kevin sat down at the kitchen table to talk and drink their wine. Since Kevin did not often drink, consuming the wine on an empty stomach began to take its toll. When the first bottle was gone, Stacy got up and got another. When the lasagna was almost done, Stacy set out a salad and hot bread for each of them. Finally, she served her lasagna.
"Oh, this is excellent, Stacy. You amaze me. I didn't know you were such a good cook."
"My dad taught me. He's really good at it."
Hearing so much about Stacy's dad made him curious about her mother.
"What does your mom do?"
"She's a lawyer."
"Really? Wow!"
"I don't see much of her. You know, being a partner and everything, . . . but we have some good quality time together."
"Oh, . . . well. That’s good. What do you like to do with her, . . . with her the most?"
"Shopping. I love to go shopping with her."
"Oh. Yeah. . . . Shopping,” he nodded approvingly. “That’s cool."
"Unfortunately, she doesn't like to shop."
Kevin smiled, then burst out laughing. "Bummer."
At first Stacy frowned but then she began to laugh too.
“It is pretty pathetic isn’t it?” she said.
“No, no,” he said rubbing his temples. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny. I’ve just had one too many glasses of wine.”
Stacy got up and extended her hand. “ It’s okay. . . . Come on, let’s go to the den.”
Once they were seated comfortably on the sofa, she kicked off her shoes and nestled up close to him.
"You want to watch television a little while before we start studying?" Kevin asked.
"No, I just want to talk to you. I never have anyone to talk to. Every day I come home to this empty house. This beautiful, empty house."
"You get lonely, huh?"
"Uh huh. Sometimes I run outside just to see if any of the neighbors are around, so I can talk to them. They never are, though." Stacy shook her head. "So, you know what I do sometimes?"
"What?"
"I go next door to borrow a cup of sugar. Can you believe it? I never need the sugar. We never run out of anything. Mom is super efficient. . . . Do you think I’m nuts?"
"No, not at all." Kevin laughed. “I’ve made up stories to get what I want before.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Suddenly Stacy sat up and looked Kevin in the eyes. "You know what I want to do? You’re going to think it’s silly."
"What?”
"I want to kiss you like Uma did."
He frowned. "Really? Why?"
"To get your opinion. You know—how I stack up compared to Uma and the princess.”
“The princess? If you’re talking about the Prime Minister’s daughter, she’s not a princess.”
“Whatever. . . . Can I?"
Kevin smiled. "Well, I sure as hell won’t stop you."
Kevin didn’t know why he had said that, but it was too late to issue a retraction. Stacy quickly moved onto Kevin's lap, grabbed him behind the neck and pulled his lips to hers. Kevin closed his eyes and, for a moment, forgot about everything else in the world. Stacy nudged her tongue into his mouth, where it was graciously accepted. While engaged in mouth to mouth combat, Stacy began to unbutton Kevin's shirt. He didn't resist. She pulled it open and began caressing his chest. Then, she pulled her halter top over her head, exposing her exquisite breasts. Kevin stuck a nipple in his mouth and began to stroke it with his tongue. Stacy moaned in delight. She got up and started to pull off her shorts.
“I knew you’d come around,” Stacy moaned.
Suddenly, Kevin was hit with a moment of sobriety. He let Stacy go.
"Come around?" he asked.
“I mean–”
Kevin sat up and pushed Stacy away. “You planned this?!”
A stunned Stacy watched as Kevin quickly got dressed. “No, it’s not like that,” she moaned. “Paula…”
“Paula? Did you and Paula have some kind of bet?”
“Well, sort–”
“I can’t believe this!” Kevin said as he searched the room with a glance. “What do you have? A camera? A tape recorder?”
Suddenly his eyes focused on the hutch in the corner of the room. The door was slightly ajar. He stormed over to it and pulled it open. A video camera was set on the middle shelf. The door had been closed just enough to conceal the camera in darkness but not block a clear view of the sofa. Kevin ejected the tape and stormed through the house to the front door.
“Oh, Kevin. Don’t leave. Let me explain.”
He laughed. “Right, like it would make a difference.”
Once outside, Kevin started to run. He didn’t stop until he’d gone several miles. He finally found himself in front of his church, St. Elizabeth Seton Catholic Church. He went inside and knelt in the Chapel. What is this, Lord–some kind of a test? The mind is strong but the body is weak. Is that it? I’ve been trying to live my life the way you would want me to, but it’s so hard. It’s just so hard and I’m so tired of fighting. It seems like everyone is out to derail me, even you. Why did you bring me Kiran only to take her away? I don’t understand. You know, it would be so easy just to give up–oh so easy. Help me, Lord. Please, help me and give me strength to go on.

Chapter 7

The following week, Kevin got a telephone call from an excited Agent Simmons. He insisted Kevin come down to FBI headquarters the following morning. Although Kevin asked him what was up, Simmons wouldn't discuss it over the phone. All he would say is that they might have found one of the men in the photograph Kevin had picked out. Kevin didn't know how he felt about the possibility of the capture of the man who shot him. He was just starting to get over all of the horrible trauma he had experienced. Now, if there was a trial, he would have to relive it all over again.
Kevin arrived at FBI headquarters precisely at nine the following morning. As he was waiting to speak to the receptionist, Agent Simmons walked in the front door.
"Oh, you're here, right on time, Kevin. Thanks for coming down. Let's go back to my office."
"Sure," Kevin replied.
He followed Agent Simmons down a long corridor to his office. As he stepped inside, he was impressed how clean and orderly it looked. He had thought most cops were slobs. Then he remembered–this was the FBI.
"Have a seat."
"Thanks. So you found the guy, huh?"
"We think so. The Port of Spain police put out an all-points-bulletin on both the persons you identified from the mug shots the other day. Their pictures were also printed in Trinidad's national newspaper, the Daily Express. It wasn't long before the police were getting tips on where they might find one of the guys. It turns out he's a security officer for a local shipping company."
"Oh really? What about the other guy?"
"Funny you should ask. It turns out both pictures are of the same person. He apparently used an alias and had been arrested and booked under both names. That's why we're certain this is our man."
"So, did they arrest him?"
"Not yet, but they've located him."
"What's the problem? Why don't they nab the bastard?"
"Trinidad is a democracy, like the United States. They have a constitution and due process, just like we do. They can't just go arrest someone unless they have solid evidence. I'm afraid your photo ID isn't going to cut it."
"So what are they going to do?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, that's why I’ve called you down here today. They want you to go to Port of Spain, so you can identify the guy in a lineup."
"Oh shit. You've got to be kidding. When do they want me to go?"
"Right away."
A cold wave of uncertainty washed over Kevin. He was stunned. The thought of going to Trinidad had never even occurred to him. He briefly considered the ramifications of the FBI’s unexpected request. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t have a good feeling about it.
“Right away? But I've already missed so much school this year. I can't afford to miss any more."
"You can make up your studies later. This is more important, don't you think?"
Kevin stared silently at Agent Simmons. Still in shock he began to collect himself. "How long will it take?"
"A week or ten days is all. They'll need you to do the lineup. Then you'll testify before a grand jury or magistrate–or some other official. I'm not exactly sure what their procedure is there, but it's similar to ours."
"What about the trial? Will I have to be there for that?"
"Probably, but that will be months off."
Uncertainty now turned to anger. I’ve already risked my life to save the Prime Minister–now they want me to turn my life upside down? I can’t believe this!
"Crap! . . . What if I refuse?"
"Well, they could extradite the suspect to the United States for trial, but the government doesn't want to do that. They want to have a quick trial and then hang him–to set an example and send a powerful message to other dissidents. They can't force you to come to Trinidad, but the Prime Minister has notified the State Department that it is of the utmost urgency that you come. As a matter of fact, I've got a letter for you from the Prime Minister himself."
"You're kidding. He wrote me a letter?" Kevin asked–his anger now giving way to curiosity.
Agent Simmons opened his middle drawer and pulled out a letter on the Prime Minister's stationery, secured with his official seal. Kevin took it from him and looked at it with a tinge of excitement.
"You might want to open it and see what it says," Agent Simmons suggested.
"Do you have a letter opener?” Kevin said now smiling. “I don't want to damage it. This will definitely have to go in my scrapbook."
Agent Simmons opened his middle drawer again. This time, he pulled out a letter opener.
"Here you go," he said as he handed it to Kevin.
"Thanks."
After Kevin opened the envelope, he pulled out the letter and began reading it. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, he smiled broadly at Agent Simmons and said, "When do I leave?"

Kevin couldn't wait to get home and show the letter from Prime Minister Shah to his mother. He was so happy, he could hardly contain himself. He had to share his joy with someone. Luckily the traffic on Central Expressway had died down. Rush hour was over. He raced home, going seventy-five most of the way. He came to a screeching halt in front of his house, ran to the front door and rushed inside.
“Mom! Mom! Where are you? I've got incredible news."
Kevin raced into the laundry room, where his mother was loading the dryer.
"Mom, there you are. Guess what?"
"What, honey?"
"I'm going to Trinidad."
"What?"
"I've got a letter from Prime Minister Shah. You want me to read it to you?"
"Of course,” she said, amused by her son’s exuberance. “Don’t keep me in suspense."
Kevin began to read the letter.

Dear Mr. Wells,
I want to apologize for not personally thanking you for saving my life at the Caribbean Trade Conference. Unfortunately, at the time I had urgent matters of state that needed my immediate attention. I trust my daughter conveyed to you my sincerest thanks for your courageous deed.
I know you have already done so much for me, my family and for the people of Trinidad-Tobago. Accordingly, it is with great reluctance that I send you this letter asking your help once again. You are the only person who can testify as to the identity of the scoundrel who would have deprived our people of their elected Prime Minister. I need you. The people of Trinidad-Tobago need you to come to Port of Spain–to do your duty as a citizen of democracy to insure justice is done.
Of course, I would insist that while you are here, you stay at my home, as my guest. While I will be busy tending to my duties as Prime Minister, my wife and my daughters will give you all of their attention, so that your stay will be most enjoyable.
I will anxiously await your reply.
Sincerely,
Ahmad Shah

Kevin looked up excitedly to see his mother's response. "So what do you think?"
Mrs. Wells hesitated. "I don't know what to say. I hate for you to leave the country. I don't know anything about Trinidad. Is it safe?"
"Of course. I'll be staying with the Prime Minister for godsakes. Anyway, I've got to go. Did you catch the gist of the last paragraph?–I will have all of Kiran's attention while I'm in Trinidad. That's so incredible! I never thought I'd ever see her again and now I'm going to spend ten days with her. I can't believe it! I'm so excited I can hardly stand it!"
"I know you’re excited, Honey, but you've only met this girl one time. You’ve only been with her for five minutes. Why are you so infatuated with her?"
"I'm not infatuated with her, I'm in love with her. She's an angel, a goddess. All I can think about is being with her!"
Mrs. Wells frowned and started to respond but Kevin interrupted her.
"For awhile, I thought I would never see her again. I was almost resigned to living a life of misery without her, but it must be our destiny to be together. I mean, how can you explain what has happened? There's some divine intervention here, Mom. You can't deny it."
"I don't know, Kevin. What if she doesn't love you? I mean, she barely knows you."
"She will. I know she will."
"I don't want you to get hurt, honey. You've got to be more realistic about this. Don't expect too much. You should talk to your father. He went with a few girls before he met me. I'm sure he thought he was in love too."
"I'll talk to Dad, but there's nothing he could say that will change the way I feel."
"Well, if you do go to Trinidad, you should get to know Kiran before you start planning your future. Take it slow. She may be an entirely different person than you think."
"I'll be careful, Mom, don't worry."
"I will worry, I'll be scared to death every minute you're gone."
Kevin smiled warmly, then put his arms around her again. "There’ll be nothing to worry about. I'll be perfectly safe. I'll call you every couple days."
"You better call me everyday."
"Okay, everyday."

Chapter 8

Kevin gave his mother a kiss and hugged his father before boarding American Airlines Flight 272, bound for Miami. He was leaving a day early. Unexpectedly a new set of tickets and a revised itinerary arrived from the Trinidad Travel Office moving up the day of departure by one day. He didn’t mind this as it meant he’d see Kiran a day sooner. It was nine a.m. and the flight was scheduled to arrive just before one in the afternoon. Kevin was excited, but a little scared, because he had never been out of the country before. He knew nothing about Trinidad and had no idea what to expect. After the usual long taxi to the DFW Airport runway, the plane finally took off.
Once airborne, everyone got a continental breakfast from the flight attendant. Kevin ate everything. He sat back and read the newspaper he purchased just before boarding the plane. After a while, he put the newspaper on the empty seat beside him and laid back to rest. Before long, he fell asleep and began to dream.
In his dream, he re-lived the assassination attempt. He felt the sting of the bullet piercing his flesh and the excruciating pain that had driven him into unconsciousness. Then the dream shifted. He was in front of his house. He stepped out of his car. There were blue and white lights flashing on a patrol car. He could hear the police radio, then a crowd of reporters surrounded him. They were yelling questions at him–so many questions. The camera lights glared in his face. He stuck his hand in front of his eyes to shield them. Then someone grabbed his arm. He pulled away and began to run. He ran inside nearly gagging from the stench. He hurried through a crowd of men in the living room, up the stairs and walked cautiously toward his room. Then he saw her, "No... no–"
The stewardess put her hand on his shoulder. "Sir, are you all right? Would you like a cold drink?"
Kevin opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Huh? . . . I’m sorry, what did you say?"
"A cold drink? Would you like a cold drink?"
He sat up and blinked his eyes. "Oh, yeah, uh huh, ®, please."
Kevin looked around and noticed people watching him. He turned away and gazed out the window to hide his embarrassment. He felt drowsy. He was pleased to see the stewardess with his Coke®–hoping the caffeine would help him wake up.
At twelve-thirty, the pilot announced the plane was making its final descent into Miami. Kevin put his newspaper away and began watching the Florida Everglades below. Precisely at one o'clock, the plane touched down.
Since he had a two hour layover before the BWIA flight to Trinidad and he was hungry, he found one of the terminal cafeterias and got a hamburger. When he was done, he decided to go to a foreign exchange booth and trade some American dollars for Trinidad-Tobago dollars, or TT, as they were called. Then he caught the tram to the international terminal.
At the gate, he showed his passport and ticket to the clerk. She gave him a boarding pass. While he was waiting, he took a good look at the passengers that were getting ready to board the flight to Barbados, and then on to Port of Spain. They were a varied group, primarily of African, Spanish, and Indian descent. Kevin felt strange because, for the first time in his life, he was a minority. Now he was getting a little taste of what it was like to be different. He didn’t like it.
After about thirty minutes, it was announced that boarding would begin. The crowd stirred and everyone started scurrying to the gate. Kevin gave the attendant his boarding pass, descended the long ramp to the plane and went aboard. He took his seat, anxious to get underway. The flight was sold out, so he knew someone would be sitting next to him. He watched the passengers file by, wondering who it would be. A tall Hispanic man, weighing at least three hundred pounds, hesitated in front of his row. Please, . . . keep going.
Finally a pretty black girl stopped, took a look at the seat number and dropped her carry-on luggage next to Kevin. Relieved, he smiled and greeted her as she sat down.
"Hi."
She didn’t respond so he wondered if he should try to talk to her or just mind his own business. Her eyes didn't show any particular interest in him. After a few moments of silence, he couldn't resist the urge to talk.
"You going to Trinidad?" he said.
She looked at him for the first time and gave him a once over. "Yes."
"So am I. Do you live there?"
The young lady gave Kevin an annoyed look and replied cooly, “Yes, I live in Port of Spain.”
"What do you do?"
"I'm a teacher."
"Oh, that's great. So what brought you to Florida?"
"I took a holiday. I've got some friends in Miami," she replied and then looked over at Kevin and smiled. "What brings you to Trinidad?"
"Just visiting," Kevin replied not feeling comfortable in divulging the actual purpose of his visit. "What do you teach?"
"History and Government."
"Oh, my favorite subjects. What grade level?"
"Secondary school."
"Hmm. That’s cool."
"I hope it doesn't rain too much for you while you're visiting."
"Do you get a lot of rain in Trinidad?"
"Oh, yes. It usually rains everyday. We get about eighty inches per year. I get so tired of it sometimes."
"I don't know much about your country. I went to the library to learn as much as I could, but there isn’t much on Trinidad at the Dallas County Library.”
"Yes, Trinidad is a very small country–about the size of your New Hampshire. We have only a little more than a million citizens."
"Your government was modeled after Great Britain, right?"
"Yes, how did you know that?"
"I read that in a travel book I found at the book store. I also know you have a Prime Minister."
"Right."
"Do you have a king?"
"Oh, no. We don't have a king, thank God."
"I thought, since your government was patterned after Great Britain, that you might."
"No. We have the Prime Minister and Parliament. That's about it, except the courts, of course."
"How many political parties do you have?"
"Quite a few, actually. To understand the political structure of our country, you've got to understand that about forty percent of the country is of African descent and represented by the PNM party. Another forty percent is Indian and represented by the UNC party. Right now the government is run by a coalition between the UNC party and the NAR party. It has been that way for the last five or six years. The PNM used to run the country, but it was ousted in the mid-nineties, in a very close election. There are numerous other minority parties."
"Hmm. Has Trinidad been pretty stable?"
"Oh, yes. There hasn't been any trouble here since the early 1970's, although someone tried to assassinate our Prime Minister when he was in Texas a few months ago."
Kevin took a deep breath.
"Yeah, I know about that. Who do you think was behind it?"
"I'm not sure, but a lot of people don't like how the Prime Minister has embraced the United States and committed Trinidad to the Caribbean Free Trade Agreement."
"Why wouldn't Trinidad want free trade?"
"Oh, I don't know. I guess some people are afraid all the big U.S. companies will come to Trinidad and gain control over the economy. The people of Trinidad are fiercely independent. We like Americans, but we don't want to be controlled by them, or anyone else for that matter."
"I can certainly understand that."
"Well, I hope you have a nice visit to Trinidad."
"I imagine I will."
The young lady laid her head back and closed her eyes. Kevin was starting to get tired as well. He had been up since five in the morning. By this time, the plane had taken off and was heading south over the Caribbean. Kevin peered out the window and looked down at the vast ocean. He was amazed at the large number of beautiful islands that were appearing and disappearing beneath him. Occasionally, he would see a cruise ship or a freighter below and wonder about its destination. The flight attendants strolled the aisle, serving snacks. When he had finished his, he started reading a paperback he had purchased in Miami. Finally, the plane began its descent into Barbados.
Kevin observed the fine beaches and fancy hotels as the plane landed. He wished he had a few days to check them out. After dropping off quite a few passengers and picking up others, the plane was once again in the air. Kevin resumed reading his paperback. An hour and a half later, the captain announced that he was preparing for the final descent into Port of Spain. The flight attendants gave each passenger a custom's declaration form to be filled out prior to landing. Kevin filled his out and then anxiously awaited his arrival.
As he looked out the window at the island beneath him, he wondered if Kiran would be there to meet him. He figured that would probably be too much to expect. More likely, he would be met by some low-level diplomat, or perhaps a police detective, whose job it would be to transport him the Prime Minister's home. It didn’t really matter who met him. Soon he would see Kiran. It was just a matter of time now.
The plane came to a stop. Everyone got up, grabbed their carry-on luggage and began to deplane. Kevin followed the passengers in front of him off the big jet. When he got onto the pavement, he saw everyone was going into a small hangar that had been converted into a customs office. He followed the crowd inside and got in one of the five lines. After thirty minutes, he made it to the front of the line and was called up to a customs official.
"Passport, please," the officer said.
Kevin handed his passport and customs declaration to the officer. He opened it, inspected the declaration and asked, "What business do you have in Trinidad?"
"The Prime Minister invited me. He's supposed to have someone here to meet me."
The officer gave Kevin a skeptical look.
"The Prime Minister? Ahmad Shah?" he asked.
"Exactly."
"How long will you be here?"
"A week or ten days."
"Where will you be staying?"
"With the Prime Minister."
The officer gave Kevin a hard look. "Does he know you're coming?"
"Of course, he invited me."
"You would think someone in the travel office would have alerted us,” he said as he stamped the passport shaking his head. “All right. Have a nice stay in Trinidad."
"Thanks."
Kevin walked out of the hanger and followed several passengers into the main terminal of the airport. He looked around, wondering if someone was going to be there to pick him up. He was a little scared, as the airport was very small and kind of run down. The lobby was filled with all kinds of people; African, Anglo, Spanish, Indian, French and Chinese. Most of them were not well dressed, and Kevin, coming from one of the wealthiest communities in the United States, was understandably uneasy. He scanned the lobby for a sign with his name, or someone who looked like a government official.
After fifteen minutes had passed, he decided he had better go get his luggage. He followed the signs to the baggage area and searched through the bags that were stacked up against the wall. When he found his suitcase, he carried it to the middle of the room. There he stood for a while wondering what he should do. After some thought, he decided to go to the front of the terminal and see if his escort might be out there. He followed the foot traffic outside to the front of the terminal. Immediately, he was bombarded by a dozen taxi drivers wanting to take him to his destination. A couple of them grabbed his suitcase and began fighting over it. Kevin got in the middle of them and took it back.
He walked quickly down the sidewalk, waving the taxi drivers off. Looking around anxiously, he saw a sign that read–Don't ride with un-licensed taxi drivers. Confused and becoming worried, he began to get angry. I can’t believe this! There should be someone here to pick me up. Jesus, the Prime Minister begs me to come down here, then doesn’t have the courtesy to send someone to pick me up.
When his anger subsided, he started to contemplate what to do if someone didn't come to meet him. He figured he'd have to find a phone and call the Prime Minister’s office or perhaps the U.S. Embassy. With another rush of anger sweeping over him, he started looking around for a phone. Not seeing any in sight, he was about to go back inside the terminal when a short, friendly looking black man approached him.
"Kevin Wells?” he asked.
Relief, like a fresh breeze, swept over him. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Hello, I'm Obatala, I'll be your driver while you're staying in Trinidad."
"Oh, great. Did the Prime Minister send you?"
"The Prime Minister? Oh yes, the Prime Minister is very anxious to see you."
"Oh, good. I've been waiting here for almost an hour."
"I'm sorry, traffic was very heavy. Don't worry though, I'll take you right away to his office."
"Is he there now? It's kind of late. I think you're supposed to take me to his house. I'm supposed to stay there while I’m in Trinidad."
Obatala picked up Kevin's luggage, avoiding eye contact.
"Okay. My car is over here," he said.
Kevin followed him as he made his way through the crowded parking lot to his car. It was a very old Toyota Corolla. Kevin frowned. A cold chill suddenly engulfed him. The exterior was in good condition, but the inside was old and worn out. Kevin hesitated when Obatala opened the door to let him in. They didn’t even send someone in a government car? Give me a break. He looked skeptically at Obatala but not wanting to appear rude, he said, "Boy, this is really an antique. I have a 1985 Mazda that I thought was pretty old. What year car is this?"
"It’s a 1971model."
"1971?”
“Right.”
“Oh, then this obviously isn’t a government car?"
"Oh, no, I own it myself. I bought it used in 1976. It has been quite reliable."
Kevin shook his head, got in and sat down. God, this is a poor country. They make everyone use their own cars. Obatala shut the door gently and ran around to the driver's side. He cranked the engine, but it wouldn't start. Kevin squinted and looked anxiously at Obatala. I can’t believe this. A few more cranks and the engine finally started with a jolt. They took off and left the melee of taxi drivers behind. Kevin was surprised to see the cars driving on the left side of the street, rather than the right side. It seemed very strange and he was glad he wasn't going to have to drive while he was in Trinidad. Obatala drove fast, weaving in and out of traffic like an Indy driver. Kevin searched in vain for a seat belt.
"So how was your flight, Mr. Wells?" Obatala finally asked.
Obatala’s friendly demeanor made Kevin feel a little better. As they talked he became more at ease and less concerned about the odd manner in which he was welcomed to Trinidad. "Fine, I met one of your secondary school teachers on the plane and she told me all about Trinidad. She was very nice. Talking to her made the trip seem much shorter."
"Yes, we have many fine teachers in Trinidad. My wife is a teacher. She may know her. Did she tell you to what school she was attached?"
"No, I wish I would have asked her, but I didn't. She told me a little bit about your political system, especially the UNC-NAR coalition and the PNC."
"You mean the PNM. The Peoples' National Movement."
"Yeah, right. All of those abbreviations are kind of confusing."
"Yes they are, until you get used to them. You know the PNM ran this country for over thirty years."
"Thirty years?"
"That's right. It was a great shock when the UNC got control. No one could believe it. Pretty soon the PNM will take back control of the government."
Kevin frowned, shocked by the glee in Obatala’s voice. "Oh really? Is that what the Prime Minister thinks?"
"No, he's too stupid to figure out that his time is about up. The NAR will withdraw their support soon and his government will fall like a brick."
Obatala’s statement jolted Kevin, the cold chill he had earlier felt returned with the vengeance of a blue norther. “Huh?” he said, suddenly realizing Obatala hadn't been sent by the Prime Minister to pick him up. Oh shit! . . . Who is this guy and where in the hell is he taking me?
Kevin didn’t want Obatala to know he was scared so he went along with the charade as if he suspected nothing. "Ah. . . . Where does the Prime Minister live anyway?"
"He lives in the bourgeoisie section of town. It's just forty-five minutes from the airport."
Bourgeoisie? Oh, God. I’ve been kidnaped by communist. . . . Kevin bit his lip. He looked back to see if anyone was following them. He couldn’t tell with so much traffic. He began to shake, fear overwhelmed him. Okay, relax. Take a deep breath. Don’t let him know you suspect anything. . . . "I bet everyone was upset when the Prime Minister was attacked in Dallas."
"No, actually a lot of people were wishing the assassin had done his job."
Kevin sunk back in his seat. He felt sharp pains shoot through his neck and shoulders. His head started to throb. This sure wasn't the reception he had been expecting from the people of Trinidad. He peered out the window of the cab and noted they were traveling through a slum area. He considered opening the door and jumping out of the car, but the thought of being the only white boy in a black slum was not too appealing.
"So, are you staying for Carnival, Mr. Wells?"
"Huh?" Kevin murmured.
"Carnival. Will you be staying for it?"
"I don't know. When does it start?"
"It starts in about ten days, but next week there will be all kinds of things going on to get ready for it. Do you like the Calypso?"
Kevin hesitated. Okay, get a grip. You’re overreacting. Don’t be paranoid. "I don't know. I've heard of Calypso, but I'm not really that familiar with it."
"Calypso originated in Trinidad and is very popular here. Before Carnival there are dozens of tournaments and competitions to find the best performers to participate in Carnival."
"Hmm. That does sound interesting. I'd really like to see it."
"If you'd like, I'll take you to see the Calypso competitions at the Queen's Park Savanna this weekend."
"Well, I don't know. I'm not sure what my schedule will be like."
"Just call me if you'd like to go. I'll take you there, or anywhere else, day or night."
"That's really nice of you. If I need any transportation, I'll keep you in mind."
Kevin's anxiety began to wane again as he continued to talk to Obatala. Although he wasn't a supporter of the Prime Minister, he seemed to be a decent person. As the old Toyota made its way through the streets of Port of Spain, Obatala enthusiastically pointed out all of the landmarks of interest and answered most of Kevin's questions about the country. Kevin took in the sights and sounds of the city with great interest. He noticed that overall, the city was old and not well maintained. The people were obviously poor and struggling for survival. For the first time in his life, he began to understand what the term "third world country'" meant.
Finally, Obatala pulled into the bourgeoisie neighborhood and advised Kevin that they were coming up to the Prime Minister's residence. Kevin felt better at being in a neighborhood more like his own.
"See, these are the big houses that the rich people of Port of Spain live in."
"Oh really, what does a house like this cost?"
"Most of them are around a million dollars."
"Trinidad dollars?"
"American dollars."
"Really? These houses wouldn't go for more than two hundred thousand dollars in Dallas."
"Prices are high for luxury items in Trinidad."
"I guess so."
Obatala pointed ahead.
"There is the Prime Minister's home."
Kevin looked at the mansion ahead with great interest. It was a fairly new, yellow stucco building, maybe five thousand square feet he guessed. It was nicely landscaped and there was a large swimming pool along the side. A fence totally encircled the residence and two guards were stationed at the front gate. Obatala pulled the Toyota up to the gate and Kevin got out and walked up to one of the guards.
"Hi, I'm Kevin Wells from Texas. The Prime Minister invited me to stay with him for a week or so."
"Kevin who?"
"Wells. The Attorney General asked me to come to Trinidad to participate in a line up. I'm supposed to stay with the Prime Minister while I'm here."
"The Prime Minister is out this evening. There's no one here."
"Well, can I wait for them? I came all the way from Texas. I don't have any place else to go."
"I'm sorry, but no one is allowed to loiter around the Prime Minister's residence. You'll have to move on."
"But, isn't there someone you can call? Like the Attorney General, maybe? He's expecting me."
"I don't have a telephone out here. I'm sorry. Come back in the morning."
"In the morning? Where am I supposed to stay tonight?"
"Come on, Kevin," Obatala said putting his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. "I'll take you to the Trinidad Hilton. You can stay there tonight."
Kevin looked at Obatala in disbelief. “How much will that cost? This trip wasn't supposed to cost me anything. I can't believe this! Jesus, I should have never come here.”
"See why we need a new government? Prime Minister Shah is a disgrace. He doesn't even know how to treat his own guests. Don't worry though. I'll take you wherever you want to go. Are you hungry?"
Kevin turned and walked slowly to the car. "Yes, actually I am kind of hungry."
"How about a giant steak?"
"Sure, that would be great."
Kevin got back in the car and Obatala took off, heading back toward downtown. When they passed the U.S. embassy, Obatala pointed it out to Kevin. Then he drove down a dark, deserted street and parked in front of what looked like a warehouse. It had a small sign near the door that read: The King's Place Restaurant. They got out of the car and went inside. The interior of the busy restaurant was ornately decorated in red and gold drapery and linens. A hostess directed them to a table. They sat down and began to look at the menu.
"I think I'll go for the ribeye," Kevin said. "What are you going to have?"
"Oh, nothing. I'll just wait for you to eat and then take you to your hotel."
"Nonsense, I'm buying. What do you want?"
"Oh, I couldn't impose. I'm just your driver."
"I don't care, order something."
Obatala hesitated, but finally picked up the menu and started to study it. It wasn't long before the waiter came and asked for their orders.
"I'll take the ribeye, medium," Kevin said.
"Give me the prime rib," Obatala added.
"Is the prime rib good here? I was considering that too," Kevin said.
"It's excellent here. This place has the best steaks in Trinidad."
"I hope you're right."
"Just wait, you'll see."
"Will you take me to the U.S. Embassy in the morning? I think I'll go there and try to straighten this mess out. They knew I was coming, so they should be able to help me make contact with the right people in the government."
"Yes, of course. I'll pick you up at eight-thirty, unless you want to stay at my home tonight?"
"Stay with you?"
"Yes, my wife would be pleased to keep you. Our house is modest, but we have an extra room, since my brother is away."
"Your brother lives with you?"
"Yes, and his family. But he and his wife are away on holiday. We are watching his three children."
As the two men were talking, the waiter brought their steaks. They started eating and continued their conversation.
"Do you have your own children?"
"Yes, three."
"Oh my God, you've got ten people living in your house?"
"Unless my mother-in-law is visiting, then we have eleven."
"I think I better stay at the hotel, I wouldn't want to impose."
"Whatever pleases you, but it wouldn't be a bit of trouble. Really. My wife's a great cook. She'd fix you up a fine American breakfast."
"That's really nice of you, but I couldn't impose. She must have her hands full, with both you and your brother's kids, not to mention working."
"I help her as much as I can, when I'm not on the job myself."
"So, do you make a good living as a taxi driver?"
"I do quite well. I do best during Carnival. I make half of my annual income during the two weeks when all the tourists come."
"Really? Carnival must be some celebration here. I wish I could stay for it, but I think I'll be leaving about the time it starts."
"You should stay, there's nothing like it in the world."
After dinner, Kevin paid the check with the Visa card his dad lent him for the trip, then they headed for the Hilton Hotel. When they arrived, Kevin went up to the front desk to see about a room. A tall, thin desk clerk was on duty.
"I'd like a room please," Kevin said.
"I'm sorry, but we're full tonight, you know, with the Calypso competition and all."
"Really. Shoot. Are there any other hotels around where I could stay?"
"You might want to try the Holiday Inn. I'll call them, if you like?"
"Great."
The desk clerk called the Holiday Inn, but they were full too. He tried several other places, but none of them had a vacancy. Kevin was beginning to panic. Where in the hell am I going to stay? Damn it. I can’t sleep in the street–not in this god-forsaken country. Should I stay with Obatala? He seems nice, but who the hell is he anyway? He obviously doesn’t work for the Prime Minister. Oh, God. What is going on? Kevin looked back worriedly at Obatala, who was waiting to see that he got a room. He thanked the desk clerk and walked back to the car.
"Well, I hate to impose on you, but it seems there's not a hotel room available anywhere tonight. Are you sure your wife won't mind if I stay with you?"
"No, no. It is our pleasure to have you. Come, we'll drive home right away. You must be very tired."
"I am beat. It's been a very long day."
As the old Toyota rattled along the bumpy streets of Trinidad, Kevin desperately tried to analyze his situation. Obatala seemed friendly, but he could imagine the conditions he must be living in. He was grateful he had a place to stay and someone to drive him wherever he wanted to go, but he was still apprehensive. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would make it through the night.
When they arrived at Obatala's home, it wasn't nearly as bad as Kevin had imagined. It was small, but very clean. Obatala's wife and several of the children were sitting in the kitchen when Kevin walked in. A woman stood up to greet him.
Obatala said, "Kevin, this is my wife, Cetawayo."
Kevin nodded and said, "Nice to meet you, ma'am."
"These are my children, Kemba, Taiwo and Atiba."
"Hi, guys," Kevin said as he shook each of their hands.
"I don't know where everyone else is, but they'll show up eventually."
Kevin gave the children a hard look, then glanced at Cetawayo and Obatala who were holding hands. "Boy, you've got some good looking kids. Let me see, do they take after their mother or their dad?"
"They're look quite a lot like their father, actually," Cetawayo replied.
"I hope you don't mind having me stay here tonight. I can't believe there isn't a single hotel room in the entire city."
"Yes, I'm afraid it will be that way until Carnival is over. But don’t worry. You’re welcome to stay here."
"Thank you. . . . So you're a teacher?"
“Yes, I am,” Cetawayo replied.
"My mom's a teacher. She teaches math."
"Oh, I'm not good at math. I prefer liberal arts."
"Really? So do I."
"So how do you like our country so far, Kevin?"
"Oh, it seems really nice, but I just got here. I haven't had time to enjoy it yet."
"I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will."
"Kevin got stood up by the Prime Minister,” Obatala noted. “He was supposed to be staying with him tonight."
"The Prime Minister? Why would you be staying with him?"
"I met his daughter while they were in Texas a couple of weeks ago. They invited me down here."
"Oh, the Indian girls, they love white boys," Obatala said.
Kevin laughed, "Is that right?"
"Yes, without a doubt."
"Well I hope Kiran likes me, she's very beautiful."
"She's a manipulator like her mother," Cetawayo advised. "Be careful."
"How do you know that?" Kevin asked.
"That's what they say in the Express. She always manages to get what she wants, no matter what the cost."
"The Express?"
"It's our primary newspaper, the Daily Express."
"Well, you can't believe everything you read, I guess," Kevin said. "I hope they're wrong."
"Okay,” Cetawayo said, “we should let Kevin get some rest. He's had a long day. Come on Kevin, I'll take you to my brother's room.”
"Thank you. You've all been very kind."
Cetawayo took Kevin to a small room with a double bed. It was adorned with photos and memorabilia of the family. Kevin said good night and closed the door. As he was getting undressed, he couldn't help but look at the dozens of pictures of the family that decorated the room. He looked at a picture of the kids swimming in the public pool, another of them playing cricket and a family portrait taken in Queen's Park. Kevin picked up a group picture sealed in an ornate wooden frame under glass. As he sat on the end of bed examining it more closely, he thought of his mother and father and contemplated what their reaction would be if they knew where he was staying. They would just die!
As Kevin continued to study the picture, he squinted to get a better focus on Obatala's brother. A cold chill suddenly engulfed him as he recognized the face. The frame slipped from his fingers and shattered on the tile floor. Oh, my God! This can’t be happening. It’s not possible. Please, Lord, . . . no. This can’t be Ray Mohammed’s bedroom!