Page 19 of Troubles in Paradise
James is six foot six, West Indian, and though he’s only a little older than Cash, Cash thinks of him as asir.
It’s seven thirty on the dot, so being late isn’t the issue, though there’s already a line of passengers waiting to check in, including a group of forty-something women who, Cash can tell, are ready for a good time. He thinks back to the charter when he babysat Tilda’s drunk friend Maxand decides then and there that he’s not opening the bar until the snorkeling part of their trip is over.
“Hey, bruh,” James says and he shakes Cash’s hand. “Ayers isn’t coming. She called in sick.”
“Called in sick?”
“Yeah, bruh, so you’re on your own today.” James glances over at the group of women, who are making no secret of checking out James and Cash. “Good luck.”
Cash can’t believe Ayers called in sick on their first day back. She had all of last week to be sick. He wonders if maybe “sick” has something to do with her broken engagement. Maybe she’s depressed? Should Cash be worried? He’ll text her later. Right now, he has to check in twenty-seven people, record their passport information (since they’re heading to the British Virgin Islands), and collect their money. Mr. and Mrs. Bellhorn from Coral Gables would like to talk to Cash about getting a partial refund since the boat’s mechanical issues pushed this trip back five days, which was quite an inconvenience.
The phrasepartial refundspreads like a virus. Everyone in line starts to repeat it because every single person—except for the group of women, who are from Wichita, Kansas—was originally scheduled to come on a different day.
Cash nearly makes a stern announcement that he isn’t the person who handles refunds and if they want to explore that possibility, they need to call the office, but then he realizes that without Ayers, he has an opportunity to shine—and byshinehe means “make some serious tip money.” In an instant, his attitude changes. He’s not going to be grouchy Cash who has been left to do the paperwork and make the breakfast and wash the snorkel equipment and check the lines and make sure no one goes overboard and give the historical and ecological details of the Virgin Islands by himself. He is going to be warm, funny, solicitous, helpful Cash. He is going to go out of his way to ensure this is the best charter these twenty-seven people have ever been on.
“This is the number for the main office,” Cash says, sliding Mr. and Mrs. Bellhorn a card. “You want to ask for Whitney. I certainly hope she offers you a partial refund, though of course I can’t guarantee it. I’m very sorry about the inconvenience. I’m a planner myself and I do appreciate your patience.”
Cash smiles. The Bellhorns smile back.
Okay, then. Next!
Somehow, Cash gets it done—everyone present, documented, paid up, and on board enjoying the fruit platter and the coconut-banana bread. People are applying sunscreen. Cash puts on Kenny Chesney’s “Get Along.” The ladies from Wichita belt out,“We ain’t perfect but we try!”That’s Cash’s motto today as well. No matter that he’s flying solo, no matter that he’s been on this job only a few weeks, no matter that his father is dead and his mother broke and his dog homeless. He’s in the Caribbean; the turquoise water is smooth, and the emerald-green islands create an artistic landscape. He doesn’t want to leave St. John, ever. He needs to find someone to take Winnie, at least for a while. He needs to find a way to make his life work.
Granger has a business proposition “on the horizon” that Tilda wants Cash involved in. Yes, Tilda has been talking ambitiously about opening a business—adventure ecotourism, which would be right in Cash’s wheelhouse. Boots on the ground, sweat equity. He doesn’t have to front any money; he just has to show up. Cash wishes thaton the horizonmeant next week or even tomorrow.
Cash is the only crew member and James thinks the planned itinerary—a trip to the Baths, snorkeling at the Indians, and then two hours of merrymaking on Jost Van Dyke—will be too much for Cash to handle alone. Instead, James says, they’re going to Smuggler’s Cove, on the western tip of Tortola, followed by stops at Sandy Spit and Willy T’s.
“Oh, man,” Cash says. “Are you sure about that? I’ve never been to any of those places.”
“They’ll snorkel first thing in Smuggler’s Cove,” James says. “There’s a beautiful beach and they can have lunch at Nigel’s. Then back on the boat to Sandy Spit. Then Willy T’s for an hour, then home.” James starts the engine. “Trust me.”
What choice does Cash have?
He’s afraid the passengers will rise up in protest. Not only have many of them had this trip rescheduled, but now they’re not even going where they were supposed to go. They aren’t going to the Baths on Virgin Gorda, which is an experience like no other, and they aren’t going to the world-famous Soggy Dollar.
He expects a mutiny.
But then he gets an idea.
He heads up to the top deck where the nine women from Wichita are sitting. Midwesterners arenice,they’rehelpful—Cash knows this because he is one. When Cash checked the women in—Christine, Stephanie, Kelly, Amy, Jennifer P., Jennifer A., Michelle, Tracy, and Donna—he learned that it was Donna’s fiftieth birthday. Over their bathing suits, the women all wore navy T-shirts that readDONNA, DO YOU WANNA?,which Christine told him was a private joke.
“Ladies,” Cash says. “I need a favor.”
He tells them what the favor is and they fall all over themselves assuring him that they’ve got his back. He’s so cute, he’s so hot, they say, and all they want in return are some pictures with him for their Instagrams and a promise that he’ll hold Donna’s hand as she jumps off the Willy T. (Michelle read on Tripadvisor that jumping off the Willy T is a bucket-list item, which is news to Cash.)
“Yes, I will, I got you,” Cash says. “Thank you, ladies.”
Cash gets ready to announce the change of itinerary over the microphone; it’s his first time wearing the headset, and he has to admit, he kind of likes the authority. “The captain is allowing us a rare and exciting opportunity today, ladies and gentlemen,” Cash says. “We’re heading over to Smuggler’s Cove on Tortola, where we will snorkel in the crystal-clear water and then you’ll have ample time to enjoy the secluded white sand beach. If you’d like lunch and cocktails, you can visit Nigel’s Boom Boom for a taste of the authentic Caribbean. When we leave Smuggler’s Cove, we’ll swing by Sandy Spit for a terrific photo op. We’ll end our day at the world-famous Willy T’s, a decommissioned freighter that has been reimagined as a beach-bar mecca. How does that sound to everyone?”
From the top deck comes the sound of ecstatic screaming and everyone looks up to see Donna, Christine, and company jumping up and down as though they’ve just been picked as contestants onThe Price Is Right.The other passengers do high fives and cheer like they can’t believe their good fortune.
Cash relaxes. He’s good at this.
James is right; this itinerary is extremely easy for Cash to manage, even alone. They arrive in Smuggler’s Cove in just half an hour. The beach is a crescent of white sand fringed by palms, and it’s deserted, as though it has been ordered up and is waiting just for them. James asks Cash to drop the anchor and then he runs through the snorkel spiel.Defog your mask with this simple solution of dish soap and water; stay away from fire coral and the spiny black sea urchins, nothing else in these waters will hurt you.
“And after you finish your snorkel,” Cash says, “we’ll open the bar.”
Cheers. Zac Brown sings “Chicken Fried.”There’s no dollar sign on a peace of mind, this I’ve come to know.
