Page 8 of Wishful Thinking

Chapter Six

Willie’s and Woodies

Sal woke to a loud, ear-piercingchainsaw buzz. His head ached from the wine at Stellas and a night of tossing and turning. Dreaming ofBelle didn’t help. Drifting off as the clock readtwo-thirty,he woke to find himself hard and sweating, his lips whispering Belle’s name at four a.m. His dick was thick and throbbing, the vision of the white ghost on his mind as he beat himself off in the middle of the night, release not enough to soothe his thoughts. The sound reverberated through the walls again and he moaned as he rolled over. Seven o’clock glowed on the small alarm clock on the bedside table. He glancedat his morning wood and thought it appropriate, chainsaws and hard-ons. He rolled to the edge of the bed and slipped on his shorts, stumbled to the bathroom, and took a piss. His arm bumped the wall of the small bathroom and he glanced at the shower, unsure whether he needed that or a cup of coffee.

He jumped in the shower and turned the water to hot. It was lukewarm, and he stood below the weak spray, grabbed the bar of soap that sat fresh in the dish and lathered himself. Running his hand over his junk, picturing Belle in his mindagain ashis hardness resumed its stance. He took care of business, washed his hair and turned off the water. His brain not feeling much better, at least gaining relief in the manhood department. The plush blue towel wrapped around his hips. He stood on the bath mat, wiping his feet along the fibers before emerging into the bedroom.

Grabbing his swimsuit, he opted to leave his shirt off for now. Still feeling warm and irritable, he stalked to the kitchen. Not seeing a coffee-pot, he opened the front door to the sight of Stella slicing off palms with a vengeance. The muscles of her arms solid for her age. She held the small saw above her head and roared through the dead fronds. She looked up when Sal come out, cut the motor, and smiled.

“How you feeling today, calendar boy? Hope I didn’t wake you? I told you I’dbe here bright and early.” Sal looked at her and shook his head.

“You’re perky today, Stella. Wish I could say the same. I’m desperate for caffeine andI didn’t see a coffeepot in the kitchen.” Stella chuckled, sat the chainsaw on the ground and stalked past him laughing.

“Honey, you just follow me. Let Stella take care of that fix for you. Do you fancy ahazelnut flavor? Donut style? Your wish is my command.” She pulled open the cupboard and grabbed three boxes of single-serve K-cups. Setting them on the counter, she pulled the neon rooster off the Keurig. Theknit cover hid the device. Hewouldn’t have thought to peer below itfor a coffee maker. Sal grabbed a Columbian roast out of a box and handed it to her. Stella popped it in, hit the button, and then pulled a mug out of the cupboard above the brewing machine.

“Silly man,neversee that forest for the trees. Right here below your nose. Can I get you anything else? Aspirin, perhaps? Did anyone ever tell you you’re cranky in the morning?” Sal closed his eyes and winced.

“No time forglum moods.It willbe another gorgeous day. I’ll finish grooming the bushes here in a half-hour. Want me to show you the nudie beach when I’m finished? I see you figured out how the shower works, good. I’ll get back to business, enjoy your coffee, sunshine.”

She giggled and left as Sal waited for the coffeemaker to finish filling itself into his mug. The odor of the rich brew filled the room, and he opened the fridge to search for something to graze. Not hungry, he hoped eating something would settle his stomach. Since hehad found Belle, he’d been out of sorts. Seeing her again filled him with a longing he hadn’t known in years. She was still beautiful. Sal grabbed the bowl of fruit that sat on the top shelf and carried it and his coffee out to the chairs on his back porch. The grapes were juicy and sweet,the coffee strong. His bare feet sensed the sandy grit on the ground and he looked forward to digging them deep in the thicker sand on the beach.

Dolphins swam off shore and Sal looked at his watch. 7:40 a.m. He tried to remember what day it was, his mind still in a fog and the essence of wine still flowed through his bloodstream. Stella had picked up two empty bottles when Sal had gotten up to leave last night. She had kept his glass full through thenight, and he lost track after seeing Belle moving like an angelon the shoreline. He sat his mug asideand grabbed the camera. Zooming in on the mammals frolicking in the surf, he smiled as one jumped up in the air.

“Ifthecalendar existed, that’sthe prime shot.” Sitting,he perked up as he saw a boy moving through the surf onthe beach towards him. The child wore an oversized T-shirt and Sal picked up the camera and zoomed in on the boy. The Buffalo Bills 1993 Super Bowl Champions shirt made him laugh out loud. Bright decal helmets of the Buffalo and Dallas teams emblazoned across the front crashed together. Hewasa few feet from the housewhen hesaw Sal.

“Wishful thinking, kid. Hate to burst your bubble, but someone sold you a defective shirt.” The boy laughed. It confused Sal, not having said it loud enough for the child to have heard him. He turned red, wondering if the boy had supersonic ears.

Philippe waved and moved towards Sal, walking up a path through the sea grasses that Sal hadn’t even noticed. He stood a few feet away and motioned to his shirt, pulled out a notebook and began writing. A minute later, he handed the notebook to Sal.

“No, they didn’t win it then, but they will. Just wait and see. I BILLIEVE!”

The boy grinned at Sal, who laughed out loud and nodded to the boy. He closed the gap between them and held out his hand.

“I’m Sal and believing is a good thing. If you don’t believe in something, you’ll have nothing.” He said as the child read his lips. He realized the boy was deaf and slowedwhile he spoke, not realizing how good Philippe was at reading lips.

“Ah, you’ve met Philippe.” Stella came fromaroundthe side and tousled the boys’ hair. He wrapped his arms around her middle and gave her a squeeze.

“Philippe lives across the street with his mom Lacey. He can’t hear you but he’s wicked good at reading lips, no need to speak slow, he gets everything, and then some.” Philippe made a quick bow, waved at them both and turned to head backto the beach, resuming his trek.

“How’s the coffee? Fueling your mood, photo-boy? Want to head overto the beach? Because it isSaturday, may not be much to capture. Not that there’sgoodness if bodies are what you’re aiming to capture. It’s a nice beach for walking.”

Sal swallowedthe last of the coffee and Stella followed him in to the bungalow. He packed up his camera, grabbed a white Hawaiian shirt that sported pink flamingos and unrolled his hat. Opening the door for Stella, he followed her towards her house.

Stella drove throughthe winding twisted roads as Sal gazed at the passing scenery. There were small houses, the pastelconcrete cinder-block homes dotting the landscape. She pointed out the varieties of fruit trees that dripped with the large mango’s and papayas and he wondered how they tasted. Ten minutes later they came to a stretch that held large lush green bushes. Stella pulled in beside an old Ford Woodie wagon. The old rusted out car had seen better days and she pointed to it and chuckled.

“Well, I knew it was early, but it looks like you’ll meet Willie. He’s what I call the endless summer surfer dudeand you’ll see why when we find him, or when he finds us. Willie likes to smoke the wacky stuff, so if the conversation goes into unchartered territories, just bear with him. He’s a storyteller, but can get pretty out-there. He’s harmless, though, don’t worry.”

Sal followed Stella as she walked a well-worn path that led through the greenery. The blue ocean before them was sparkling with the morning sunlight and in the distance, Sal saw a guy out straddling a surfboard, waiting to catch a worthy wave. The man looked up and saw Stella, gave a wave, and started paddling towards shore. As the man emerged from the water, Sal stared at the wrinkled older man. He was buck naked, wearing only a huge yellow-toothed smile.

Stella nudged Sal and then waved back to Willie. Sal gazed at the man. His nuts hung to his knees. Gray hair hung in dreadlocks and for what little of it remained, dripped waterdown his back in streams. Sal noticed a colorful dirty sack up on the beach, a bright green, red, and yellow striped toweldrapedacross a fallen palm. Willie chucked the board out of the surf and sauntered towards them. His junk layshriveled and hanging placid, and Sal was happy that Willie wasn’t that excited to see them.

Willie wrapped Stella in a warm embrace and kissed her on the cheek.

“Hey there gorgeous, what brings you around this neck of the woods, need more inspiration for your books? I could give you a ride you wouldn’t soon forget. Yeah, rock your socks off, if you were wearing any.” Stella laughed and slapped him on the bicep which for the man’s age, was buff.

“Willie, I brought a friend here to see the beach. He’s taking pictures for a calendar, but I don’t think you’re what they had in mind for the centerfold, might scarefolks with that there.” She pointed at his dick and laughed.

“Could knock a persons head off if you swung it hard enough.” She chuckled as Willie joined in, then held his hand out towards Sal, who stood staring at the man.

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