Page 10 of Powder
Jack was quiet for a long beat, then gave a small, almost wry smile. “I get that. I’ve never been chosen for the US team. Notonce. But you know what? I’m good with that. I’ve got my place. I’m captain of the Railers. That’s more than enough for me.” Then he grinned. “I’ll watch you in the Olympics and remember us floating here as you land the late nose cork grab land thing.”
And I grinned back. “I’ll wave at you as I’m doing it.”
FIVE
Jack
Tian was givingme the oddest of glances as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.
Such pretty eyes they were…
“Where did you get this idea?” he asked as he circled the two black mountain bikes waiting for us outside the front door of the hotel.
“The desk clerk who helped us with our dinner suggestions and the snorkeling reservations for tomorrow?” He nodded, lowering his designer shades to peer at me with amusement in his eyes. “She mentioned this when you were in the bathroom, so I reserved two bikes.”
“Are they e-bikes?” He knelt to inspect the bikes for motors.
“No, lazy butt, they’re fully powered by leg muscles. I’m sure I can pedal around the island for a day but if you’re scared you can’t keep up with an old man…” I let that dangle, knowing full well his competitive nature would never let him back down from a challenge.
“Okay, first off, as if.” He straightened then threw a muscular leg over the bike seat. “Secondly, the reason I asked about them being e-bikes is because this is a vacation. Va-kay-shun. We’resupposed to be relaxing and having lots of sex while making terrible food decisions. Do you know how to relax off the ice?”
I crossed my arms over my pale blue tank with a tribal design swimming sea turtle. “You’re one to talk. You never stop moving. Even when you’re asleep you’re twitching like a dog dreaming of catching a rabbit.”
“Bow-wow.” He leaned in, stole a kiss, and then drove his heel into the kickstand. Off he sped, veering left to avoid running into an older couple and their bags.
“Cheater.” I chuckled then rushed to get my ass on that bike seat and start pedaling. I caught up fast.
“Hey there good-looking,” he called as we began our trek. The Caribbean was to his right with the sun sparkling off the waves. Warm wind blew through his hair. He was so vibrant, so alive, so stunning in his youth and vigor. And he was my lover. Go fucking figure.
“Don’t try to sweet talk me, you pumpkin eater.”
He laughed. The ride slowed a bit then to just drink in the isolated beauty all around us. There were no cars on Caye Caulker, just some golf carts serving as taxis or rentals for those unwilling or unable to bike or walk. Despite his accusations of me not knowing how to chill, I knew how to relax. I was embracing the go-slow mentality of the island as well as I could. The day stretched ahead of us with no schedules, no morning skates, no pressers, no agents. Just Tian and me. Our first stop to rest and rehydrate, as the temps were climbing, was along a marina. Several dozen boats bobbed on the crystal blue water as we walked our bikes to a shady little café. It was early so the outside eatery was empty save for a pelican that had decided to sit on a rail to study anyone entering the thatched area.
Tian took a dozen selfies of himself and the pelican while I ordered us some bottles of water and a snack. The barkeep talked me into trying some fry jacks, which he touted to be thebest on the island. I nodded, paid, and returned to a table in the shade where I toed off my sneakers so I could sink my toes into the sand.
Tian was seated a few feet from the pelican, now engaged in conversation with the seabird. “Among your skills on the snow and in bed, you also speak fluent bird?” I asked while passing over a cold bottle of spring water.
“My skills are vast and varied,” he replied with a wink. I could attest that he did have some wicked expertise with that mouth of his. “Winifred and I were just discussing how she is a brown pelican, as evidenced by her white head, dark body, and gold neck. She told me that her throat pouch is three times larger than her stomach, which is quite advantageous as she swallows the fish and crustaceans she catches whole.”
“Winifred?” I asked after emptying half my bottle of water. Tian nodded, a gust of wind off the bright blue sea tossing his hair into his face. “Winifred told you all of that, or was it Google?”
He gasped. “Jack, I’m shocked that you would doubt my avian chat ability!”
“Sorry, I’ll never question your bird whispering talents again.”
Tian sniffed, then chuckled. Our snack arrived then. We both stared at the fried dough triangles stacked on our plates, topped with cheese and refried beans.
“I thought they’d be like doughnuts,” I confessed after the bartender returned to setting up his bar for the busy lunch crush ahead.
“If we eat all these beans, we’ll have extra speed to propel us along,” Tian offered while Winifred walked down the railing to glance over his shoulder at his food. He shot the bird a look, then tossed a fry jack to her. She caught it with a snap. “Okay, thisbird has begged off people before,” Tian said, to which I bobbed my head.
We dove into our breakfasts with gusto. The food was delicious. The pastry light and airy, the cheese spicy and gooey, and the refried beans creamy and savory. It was a filling meal, and after we fed Winifred the final fry jack on my plate, we left a nice tip and waved at the bartender and the pelican. Back on our bikes, we then rode out to the Split, an iconic spot where the island splits in two, with a canal dividing the two parts. There were bars aplenty here, but we skipped them as we were still stuffed from our breakfast. Onward we rode, chatting, laughing at dumb jokes the other made about passing gas, giving us bursts of speed.
The day slipped by quickly from our lunch at a hopping island bar where you could drink and eat at a submerged table sitting in the turquoise ocean. It was quite an experience eating our shrimp kabobs while the sea lapped at our calves. Then we took off once more, pedaling through an area rich with shops and art galleries. Tian and I spent several hours shopping in the various stores. We both ended up purchasing some small oils done in vibrant colors by local artists to take home with us. Mine was a beautiful rendition of a sea turtle in tones of purple and blue, and Tian found a small oil in a wooden frame with a woman’s face done in vivid oranges and yellows. Both would fit in our suitcases, so we had them shipped to the hotel.
As evening came, we found ourselves sitting outside once more, on a pier where you could eat a gourmet meal while watching stingrays idling, gliding by under the wharf. The sun was mere inches above the horizon, streaking the sky with pinks, blues, and violets. “Adore You” by Harry Styles wafted outside to dance on the evening tide. Tian was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, the sunset tinting his face with subtle paintbrush strokes of indigo.
“Would you like to dance?” I asked out of nowhere because I was no great shakes at dancing. I could count how many times I’d been on a dance floor on one hand, and one of those times was my wedding. Whatever possessed me to ask, I had no clue, but his sleepy eyes opened, and his gaze met mine.
