On the Way Back Read online

  Friday nights at The Velvet are slow burners. The action generally smolders for hours before catching flame sometime in the small hours of Saturday morning. The crowd has begun to grow. The unsuitably slippery, white tile floor has become sticky, the red velvet wallpaper is drenched in sweat, the room is covered in smoke. Let’s go outside. A walk, a drink, barbecue ribs, and suddenly, Dis week goan was so horrible. I never t’ought t’ings could be so bad. Sheila’s still thinking of work, of course. I guess she’s been affected by the debacle of Tuesday in a way that I haven’t.

  There’s nothing we can do about it now, Sheila—don’t punish yourself for it. Her wide black eyes search mine for the meaning of my words. I need to sound honest now, I need to sound concerned. All we can do is work harder in the future to try to keep things like this from happening again.

  The black eyes go misty and I know my face is genuine enough to convince her. I ain’ know how long I kyan keep goan on like dis, Art. I ain’ know how much longer I kyan resist. Now, if ever there was an appropriate moment to move closer to your prey, this is it.

  What are you talking about, Sheila? My voice comes out soft, my left hand wraps the right side of her face, a cloud of concern covers my expression, and I pull her caringly toward my shoulder. You’re just stressed after a tough week, that’s all. But things will be better once we open our new routes. For seven spectacular seconds, Sheila rests her face on my shoulders, her left hand on my chest, her right arm around my back, and I can feel her heartbeat through the firm softness of her bosom.

  I hate Nathaniel. This is turning into a promising night. I hate he ’coz he so stubborn, he goan ruin everyt’ing else. He insist he wan’ make true dis fantasy he have, an’ now all goan to hell. Sheila is opening up. My reaction at this point is crucial. Too much silence, and she’ll think I don’t care; too little, and she’ll think I’m not listening; sympathy toward Nathe will make me look like I’m taking his side; antagonism toward him would expose my intentions too early.

  Why do you say it like it’s all finished? Is this not worth fighting for? Are you not in love? Sheila’s startled by my question. Have I gone too far? I might have spoiled it all.

  She pushes me away slightly. We’re sitting on the sand, just a fraction farther apart than we were a minute ago, but Sheila has changed her attitude: she looks stronger than just now, less helpless; her head turns slowly, hesitantly, in my direction; her eyes are no longer misty, but overflowing with determination. No.

  She has dropped any guise of pretense. I could make my move this very moment but she might misconstrue my intentions—she might think I just want to take advantage. Be patient, Arturo. Be patient. She’s mad at someone else, not you—don’t let her turn you into the scapegoat of her anger. I lift her up from the sand and, Let’s go back inside. Courting is an art, like war: move too quickly and you become overexposed, move too late and you become predictable. By the time I get you, Sheila, you’ll be as desperate for me as I am for you right now. When the time comes to make my move your desire will be stronger than your anger, than your fear, than your shame. But not yet. For the time being let me just wrap my arm around you and shield you from the crowd as we walk back into The Velvet.

  The room’s still crowded, the dance floor’s still a nightmare, and it stinks more and more. But Sheila has forgotten all about moderation, and suddenly the ritual of her dancing becomes absorbing. Sheila is not thinking anymore, and I just love to be her pole. I get aroused by her moves and the presence of my hardened member between her cheeks encourages her to continue. This is too much. Asking for composure in this situation is simply asking too much. I lose control, my hands land on her perfect body, my hips shake to the rhythm of hers, our sweat blends into one, and we continue dancing until closing time. The dance floor of The Velvet: the place where fantasies come to life.

  It’s time to go. Sheila’s nervous. The hour is late—just before the break of dawn—and Nathe will be wondering where she is. She’s worried again, but our connection on the dance floor cannot be dismissed so easily. I walk her to her car. Sorry to spoil your day off wit’ all my problems.

  Spoil. That’s the word she’s used: spoil. You’ve made my night, She. You’ve made my night and there is a lot more you—we—could do. But not tonight. We’ll leave it like this tonight. I’ll leave you thinking you owe me one. Thanks for the dance. And before she gets into the car her fleshy lips pay me back with a brief kiss. I’m not off again until Wednesday—can I see you then?

  VI

  The debacle of March lasted six full days. For one full week a constant state of emergency hovered over the premises of the Business Center, where the board of directors of Dragon Wings met to resolve the complications that emerged as a consequence of an organizational catastrophe. On the final day of the crisis, once the last lost bag had been traced in St. Kitts, flown to Antigua, entrusted to British Airways, and dispatched to its owner in England, Dragon Jones brought up the subject of expansion one more time. At this point, negotiations with the administrators of Air Tampa were far advanced and the application for further support from the Indigenous Bank of Anguilla had already been submitted to the bank. But the outlook of the general situation had changed dramatically with the list of extraordinary expenses that had resulted from a five-hour telecommunications failure, and the future looked ominous, charged with the negative publicity derived from a six-day organizational crisis, and given the circumstances, I think we need to reconsider our position and seek viable alternatives to continue our progress in the establishment of Dragon Wings as a real force in the air carrier business in the Caribbean.

  The debacle of March planted second thoughts regarding the purchase of additional machinery in the mind of Nathaniel Jones. In fact, the debacle of March planted second thoughts regarding the adoption of an ambitious plan of expansion in the minds of most members of the board of directors. But by then Dragon Wings’s ambitious plan was well underway, and the only viable alternative was Dragon Jones’s drab policy of consolidation. A fundamental change in the direction of the company could only be effected through secondment by two-thirds of the board in a vote, and at that stage Dragon was as unpopular a character as there could have been in Dragon Wings, but the magnitude of the six-day crisis meant that on the seventh day yet another extraordinary meeting was called to order, this time to reconsider the plans for the future of the organization.

  The debacle of March presented Dragon Wings with a major problem and one simple solution, but on the seventh day of a crisis that lasted six, too many individual ambitions clashed, making it impossible for the board to agree on what was clearly the best decision for the airline. Nathaniel knew that the sensible thing to do was to favor the policy of consolidation proposed by Dragon Jones months earlier, but his relationship with his son had deteriorated to such lows since the day, many months back, when Dragon had told him he was not his marriage counselor, that he felt inclined to vote against it just because of who had proposed it. And Sheila Rawlingson had been drained of the last trace of enthusiasm she’d been able to muster for Dragon Wings by the application for the acquisition of Air Tampa’s Short 330s, so the prospect of seeing the labor of the past two months put to waste filled her not so much with frustration or disappointment but rather with courage—courage to do exactly that: put it all to waste, not only the labor of the past two months but the rest of the time she had invested in the airline. And Glenallen Rawlingson had absolutely no interest in showing common sense, because his own personal agenda would be far better served if Dragon Wings continued its progress down the thoughtlessly rash route it had opted to follow, and consistency is de key for success in business. We cannot convene every time we face a problem to double guess weselves an’ change we plans. Samuel Bedingford was incorporated in dis airline for his expertise, judgment, an’ knowledge of de market. We kyannot turn our backs away from his advice upon de first difficulty we encounter. And SamB was never going to accept that he had been wrong all alon
g in insisting to bid for Air Tampa’s Shorts 330s, so despite the fact that the debacle of March planted serious doubts in each of the members of Dragon Wings’s board of directors, the seventh day of a crisis that should have lasted only six saw little change in the direction of the fortunes of the airline.

  And yet, somehow, Nathaniel Jones still looked confident, because Nathaniel Jones was aware that the meeting of the board of the Indigenous Bank of Anguilla would not take place for another week, and Nathaniel Jones was convinced that given the scope and magnitude of the debacle of March, the bank’s board would be forced to reject Dragon Wings’s application for operational support, and Nathaniel Jones suspected that despite Glenallen Rawlingson’s connections—power—there was little he or anyone else could do presently to change the tide in favor of Dragon Wings. Indeed, Nathaniel Jones was so confident that the airline would ultimately be forced by circumstances to follow the conservative path of consolidation advocated by his son, despite his outward skepticism toward it, that he neglected the duties entailed by the implementation of an ambitious strategy of expansion over the following week and devised instead a marketing strategy aimed at redressing the damage caused by a five-hour telecommunications failure and a six-day organizational crisis.

  Nathaniel Jones might have spent less time devising a marketing strategy that would never have be to deployed if he had known that, in addition to Glenallen Rawlingson, Bacchus Stewart was also contriving to ensure the success of Dragon Wings’s application for operational support in order to raise the company’s debt to near-fatal levels. Given the situation, the only thing Bacchus could think of that would be more damaging to the airline than allowing it to go ahead and spend as much money as it wanted on planes was to grant a secured loan for Dragon Wings to purchase only one of the two Short 330s it was after. Thus, when the news came that the Indigenous Bank of Anguilla had approved the secured loan of US $400,000 for the purchase of one Short 330, it was greeted not with a daylong celebration but with a smug snigger by SamB.

  But the end of Dragon Wings was well within sight long before the approval of the acquisition of one of Air Tampa’s Short 330, because even if the full extent of the consequences was not to be discerned until Easter, it became immediately obvious that the six-day organizational crisis suffered in the month of March by the airline would have far-reaching repercussions.

  Dragon Wings managed to limp through the month of March and much of April at a pace comparable to that of the competition, producing decent levels of seat occupancy and performing so consistently that at one point it almost looked as if the subsidy by the government of Anguilla would become unnecessary. During the month that followed the debacle of March it looked as if Dragon Wings would hold its own, at least through the remaining months of the high season. Except for the fact that the airline’s expenses increased weekly, and the need to assemble new teams in prospective destinations burdened the partners, and negotiations with foreign governments consumed large chunks of time, and the daily operation was still plagued by all sorts of delays and inconveniences which should have been addressed long before.

  Thus, by the time Anguilla was hit by the seasonal resurgence that is Easter, Dragon Wings already faced another, entirely different crisis: financial distress. Dragon Wings entered the short period of bonanza that in Anguilla is Easter with the imperative task of making up the ground lost and strengthening the health of the company’s books in preparation for the long drought of the summer. However, once the floodgates were opened for tourists to return to the Caribbean, it became evident that Dragon Wings was not only not preferred above any other regional airline, but, in fact, a large portion of the visitors actively sought to avoid using it. The marketing strategy deployed by Nathaniel Jones to counterbalance the negative effect of the debacle of March had come too late to be effective, and, worse still, the setbacks that had hindered the operation since its insertion in the market were still there unsolved, so Dragon Wings found itself having lost all credibility, respect, sympathy, and, in the end, customers. Thus, the short period of bonanza that in Anguilla is Easter flew past Dragon Wings’s record books without leaving an impression of any kind—April was gone, and the prospect of making up the ground lost vanished with it, and the Joneses simply had to learn the hard way the lesson that had made so many others feel miserable in the month of January: lost ground in the Caribbean is ground that cannot be made up. The company’s financial situation was still precarious, and in front lay the barren summer months—May, June, July—before the next period of activity to which anyone could look forward: carnival in August.

  Hence, when Deianira Walker broke the news to Nathaniel that Dragon Wings had been successful in its bid for Air Tampa’s Short 330, his reaction was less jubilant than she expected. The actual acquisition of the aircraft meant that the efforts by the team to expand the operation had to become more urgent. It also meant more expenses, larger repayment installments to the Indigenous Bank of Anguilla, and additional costs. Nathaniel knew there was no way Dragon Wings would be able to cope with these added expenses. The time had come to declare financial distress and make use of the funds provided by the HTA.

  Nathaniel Jones called for yet another extraordinary meeting of the board of directors of Dragon Wings to inform the rest of his partners of the details of the situation, making it clear from the start that this is a matter of survival.

  This time there was no vote, just the objection of the ever-more-estranged Dragon. We will run through that money in a matter of months. If we cannot make this business self-sufficient we might as well shut it down.

  Nathaniel’s eyes lit up with anger at his son’s suggestion. We need to earn people’s confidence, Dragon, and that takes time. It would help if you could run the operation smoothly at least for one week.

  Thus, the small office in the Business Center became the ring where father and son chose to vent the frustration, the rage, and the resentment that for months had eroded their relationship. Sheila Rawlingson watched in silence as the man she had once loved and the son she had grown to despise openly and viciously traded insults. SamB, on the other hand, seemed too immersed in his own world to care about anything that happened around him. Thus, Glenallen Rawlingson was the only member of the board of directors of Dragon Wings to react to Nathaniel Jones’s announcement.

  VII

  Glenallen Rawlingson was the only member of the board of directors of Dragon Wings to react to Nathaniel Jones’s announcement that the airline had reached the point of financial distress and required the liberation of the funds provided by the Hotel and Tourism Association to stay afloat. But Glenallen Rawlingson’s reaction was silent and long-winded. He demanded to see the books of the company, and went through them in detail, armed with patience, diligence, and more than just a pinch of malice. After a full week of fastidious examination, Glenallen Rawlingson added determination to his malicious scheme, and contacted his lawyer, Deianira Walker. I need to talk to you as soon as possible. No, not over de phone—dis is a very serious matter. I wan’ see you personally. Deianira Walker canceled all the appointments she had scheduled for that afternoon, and asked Glenallen Rawlingson to pass by my office at four.

  When Deianira Walker received a call from Glenallen Rawlingson at eight a.m. on a Monday morning, she was neither surprised nor alarmed. His attitude when he called was always severe, always urgent—even if nothing, really, was wrong. But Glenallen Rawlingson was more secretive with her that Monday morning than was usual, and he had insisted on making an appointment to meet her in person, to discuss the details of a very serious matter. Deianira Walker cleared up her afternoon for his sake, was already waiting when Glenallen Rawlingson, looking stern, severe, knocked on her door at four p.m. sharp. Deianira Walker could still not guess what could be so urgent but she knew immediately it would not be long before she found out. Glenallen Rawlingson did not waste any time greeting her: he took a seat, proceeded to make his case. A situation has developed at Dragon Win
gs whereby we will need to declare financial distress to stay alive.

  Deianira Walker had been the adviser to the Joneses in their negotiation with the HTA for the half-million-dollar operational subsidy, so she was perfectly aware of what Glenallen Rawlingson was talking about. I’ve inspected de company’s financial records. Given de evidence I find in dem, I ain’ de least bit surprised we face distress.

  His eyes gleamed with intent, and for a brief moment Deianira Walker was made to feel uncomfortable in her own office. De books show glaring irregularities, obscure payments, unaut’orized transactions. Dis cannot continue. Dis kind of behavior cannot be condoned in Anguilla.

  Deianira Walker had been involved—or so she thought—in all transactions carried out to date by Dragon Wings; she had—or so she thought—an insider’s perspective on all things related to the airline; Deianira Walker was aware—or so she thought—of all the factual details that were transcribed in numerical terms on the financial records. So Deianira Walker was left to listen with both attention and surprise as Glenallen Rawlingson mentioned the words embezzlement, corruption, misappropriation of funds. There was no room for misunderstanding in his delivery, he gave her no alternative: by the end of their meeting, late into the night, he had made it perfectly clear that I wan’ have everyt’ing Nathaniel Jones owns, even his oldest pair a shoes.

  Deianira Walker’s tidy dreads dangled loosely over her stupefied semblance long after Glenallen Rawlingson shut the door of her office on his way out. She absentmindedly browsed the folder with documents, files, photocopies he had left behind for her to inspect. She identified the threat of extinction faced by the airline she had so decidedly helped to build. She recognized deals, transactions, procedures carried out in the past, looked at them from the outside with the greedy eye of a voracious solicitor. Over the course of the next five days Deianira Walker battled herself—her scruples—in an attempt to defend the interests of one client without hampering another’s. It was a battle she was bound to lose. Despite the affectionate respect she had developed for Nathaniel Jones, despite the time and energy she had invested in Dragon Wings, despite her desire to see the project succeed, she could not escape the fact that Glenallen Rawlingson was Glenallen Rawlingson. So she compiled a portfolio with the details of the case, and kept the secret of the impending threat away from Nathaniel Jones, and by the time she was summoned by Glenallen Rawlingson she had already envisioned the strategy that would best satisfy his expectations, inflicting the least harm on Nathaniel and, most importantly, procuring her peace of mind.