Chapter 57 Chevy
Chevy
After I’d recovered from the shock, I hurried into my bedroom and packed. I didn’t know if I would make it to the airport in time, but I did know there was more than one flight leaving out of Kennedy that could get me to Virgin Gorda before midnight.
As expected, I missed the flight, but the agent was kind enough to reroute me through Miami. From there, I would take a flight to Puerto Rico and then connect from there into Tortola where I would catch the private yacht over to Virgin Gorda and Little Dix Bay.
As hectic as the connections had been and as many hours as I had spent on three different flights and in three different airports, I was reeling with excitement when I stepped onto that yacht.
An elderly gentleman with skin as black as coal, a snow-white beard, and a bald head helped me on and then presented me with a cool glass of fruit punch. He introduced himself as Coyote.
“Any rum in here?” I whispered.
Coyote’s eyes were glued to my breasts. I was wearing a floral halter top. The material was so thin, it was almost see-through.
“Of course,” he said, and winked at me.
The sail over was wonderful. As hot as it had been on land, the cool breeze that sailed off the sea made me forget that the temperature dawdled near ninety-five degrees.
The island itself was small, and grew smaller the closer we came.
It wasn’t a lush island; in fact, some of the low-lying hills were dotted with cactus.
Little Dix Bay itself sat on a half moon—shaped beach.
Blue market-sized umbrellas dotted the beach, shading the guests who relaxed on the chaise lounges.
I’d done all of my checking in on the yacht, so when we pulled up to the pier I was shown to my room.
My room was actually a cottage. One large room with plenty of windows, a king-sized bed, and generous sitting area complete with sofa. The desk and the bathroom rivaled the ones I had in my office back in New York.
It was fabulous!
“Is everything to your liking, Miss Cambridge?” the young man who’d escorted me asked.
“Oh, yes.” I beamed as I threw myself down onto the bed.
“Well, then, if you need anything just dial zero on your phone.”
“Okay, I will,” I said.
The man turned to leave.
“Excuse me. Haven’t you forgotten something?”
“Sorry?”
“My key,” I said.
“Oh, no, Miss Cambridge. There are no keys here at Little Dix Bay.”