Chapter 18
Scott heard a voice that sent a shiver down his spine. A voice he’d hoped he’d never hear again. The voice of the only other guy that he knew that smoked those cigars.
“Been a long time, kid,” the voice said.
Scott turned around. “Doc Malone,” Scott said, his voice cold as stone.
Doc’s short black hair was covered mostly by a cream-colored Panama hat. He wore an avocado green linen shirt and tan cargo shorts. His leather sandals, both stylish and well-worn, gave him the look of a seasoned traveler. His military field watch reflected the last dying embers of the sunset.
Not many people would pick a fight with a guy like Doc. He looked like he was chiseled from the cliff walls. His neck was thick and his arms bulged with muscles. An anchor tattoo ran down his forearm.
He removed his aviator glasses and smiled, revealing eyes as blue as the Pacific.
“What do you want?” Scott said.
“You know I promised your pop that I would check-in on you if anything happened to him. Looks like you’re doing alright.” Doc smiled. “Who’s the pretty girl?”
“Just a friend. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Doc took another puff of his cigar as he studied Scott, who stared arrows back at him.
“Alright, kid, I get it,” Doc said, “I’m not your favorite person in the world, but don’t blame me for what happened to your dad.”
“You told my father about that crazy Hemingway Treasure, and he died trying to find it. He took me to the Mexican Baja to search for it and our jeep flipped on a mountain pass. He died before I even had a chance to call for help. So, yeah, I do blame you. I wish my father had never met you.”
Doc shook his head. “Kid, I know how you feel, but I tried to tell your dad that the Mexican Baja was a dead-end. I even tried to go with him, but he left without telling me. I wanted to tell you all of this at the funeral but it was never the right time.”
“So what, Doc? What difference does it make now? He’s gone. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Doc kicked at the ground. “Look, Scott, your dad was my best friend. After he saved my life in Iraq, he made me promise that I’d look after you if anything happened to him.”
Scott just stared at him. “Kid,” Doc went on, “I’ll be in town for a few more days if you need anything. I’m not trying to interfere with your life. I just wanted to say hello. Check-in on you. And if you need money, you know I can give it to you.”
“You’re the last person I’d take anything from, Doc.” His words were like acid.
“Maybe someday you won’t hate me so much.
Someday, I’d like to share some stories of your father with you.
In the meantime, I’ll be staying at the Las Olas Hotel for the next few days.
Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. You won’t even know I’m there.
But if you’re up for it, maybe we could have dinner. You know my number."
“Doc, I don’t ever want to see you again.” And with that, Doc simply tipped his Panama hat and walked away. “Hey, Doc!” Scott yelled after him. "I wish it were you who died in that accident!” A few people turned around to see the commotion. But not Doc. He just kept walking.
Scott stared after Doc until he felt a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, Scott, what happened to the drinks?” Daniela said, her dad standing next to her. “Are you alright? Your face is all red.”
“I’m fine. Maybe it’s the heat. I’ll go grab those drinks now.”
“No, that’s alright. My dad says he’s ready to go.”