Chapter 28
Javier, now head of the Dogs, kept his promise. The day after Carlos died, he began moving his men out of the hotel. By New Year’s Day, Javier and the Dogs were gone.
As things settled down, Contessa offered Scott a job as head of marketing and made Daniela the head of entertainment while doubling her salary. They could live at the hotel for as long as they wanted, Contessa told them. “Las Olas Hotel could use people like you.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Scott said.
“You take as long as you need,” Contessa said. “This could be a good life for you, Scott. I know Daniela wants you here.”
Doc stayed for the rest of the week. He and Scott spent days talking about his dad by the pool, at Café del Mar, and by the pier. At night, Doc, Daniela, Adolfo, and Scott had dinner together at Oceania.
But on New Year’s Day, Doc told Scott that he needed to leave. He bought a used sailboat from a local which he planned to sail to Miami. Scott met him at the pier before his departure.
“What’s in Miami, Doc?” Scott said. Doc threw a duffel bag into the hold. The ship’s name was printed in big black letters on the back of the boat: El Matador.
“The next clue to the Hemingway Treasure,” Doc replied. He untied the last line from the cleat. “I was supposed to be there days ago. I’m glad we had the chance to catch-up, kid. You remind me so much of your dad.”
Doc pushed the boat off the pier. Scott said, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I just?—”
Doc put his hands up as he floated away. “Kid, don’t worry about it.”
“Can I come with you?” Scott said. “I owe you my life.”
“No, kid, you’ve got a new life here.” Doc looked at Daniela and her father who were watching them from the balcony of Oceania. “Besides, I don’t think they would let you leave.”
Scott smirked and looked at the ground. “When will I see you again?”
“Sooner than you think, kid.” Doc tipped his Panama in Scott’s direction.
He released the mainsail, grabbed the tiller, and piloted toward the mouth of the bay.
When he was about twenty-five feet away, Doc turned back toward Scott.
“Your dad would be proud of you, kid.” Standing alone on the pier, Scott watched Doc sail out of the bay and disappear into the sunset.
Scott’s head sunk to his chest. He had that bittersweet feeling of when all your friends leave at the end of a long weekend. Something splashed behind him. The snorkeler was back, swimming about fifty feet from the pier.
This time the snorkeler turned toward Scott and removed his mask. Scott froze. He was looking at the face of his father.
The snorkeler pointed toward him. Scott squinted and shook his head. The snorkeler again pointed and yelled something, but he was too far away.
“I can’t hear you,” Scott called out.
The snorkeler yelled again, and this time Scott heard his words: “La musica.” Scott turned and heard the music playing from Oceania. Let it Be by the Beatles.
“La musica!” the snorkeler yelled again and gave a thumbs-up.
Daniela and her father joined Scott on the pier. She wrapped her arm around his waist as Scott stared at the snorkeler. “Ah, there’s Fidel!” Daniela said. “Always diving for oysters.”
“Fidel?” Scott said.
“Yes, the snorkeler. I think his name means faith, no?”
Scott looked back at the snorkeler, but he no longer saw the face of his father but that of a handsome, young Mexican with only a passing resemblance to his father.
“Are you ok?” she said.
Scott looked at her and smiled. “Yeah, everything’s gonna be just fine.”