MONTAUK RIDER IS WRITING A NOVEL

Sooner or later we all need to write a story about things we know, mix it up with things we imagine, and then call it a novel. Well, Montauk Rider is working on a little piece of fiction that is a lot of fun.

Here is a tease portion of the second and third chapters (copyright claimed of course):

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Jake was thinking again about that fundamental divergence in his and Susan’s lives that evening when he expected to spend a quiet evening alone in Kona. Susan had already returned to Boston. Jake was secretly happy that he would have another week in Hawaii all to himself.

Immediately before “she” appeared Jake had ordered his second Sapphire and Tonic of the evening. The Kona air was warm and moist.

It was a perfect Hawaiian evening. The surf pounded on the nearby volcanic shore. The trade winds engulfed the Tiki House in a sensuous bouquet of floral and salty scents.

And yet Jake was uneasy. He contemplated yet again how unhappy Susan must be. “I’m unhappy,” he mused, “so she must be even more so.”

“Of course Susan was unhappy,” his thinking continued, “she and I have lived together 25 years, and we don’t have anything in common. She is beautiful, still vibrant, and yet caged with a total stranger. Our relationship is held together by stuff.”

He started to feel a heavy squeeze around his chest, almost as if he couldn’t breathe.

CHAPTER THREE

“HER”

Jake’s lungs suddenly filled with the fullness of moist tropical air the moment he saw her approaching. What was it about those eyes that made them flash like that, he wondered?

As she moved to sit beside him, Jake’s left hand moved to feel his left pocket. Yes, his key was there. He didn’t know why he had done that. It was a subconscious movement.

She had seen the same subconscious movement many times before. “Men,” she silently laughed to herself, “so predictable. See a pretty girl, check for the key.”

She twirled her head in Jake’s direction and peered directly into his still unfocused eyes. Jake blinked. This wasn’t right. He was supposed to be studying her eyes, not the other way around. Who was this creature?

“As I mentioned,” she started, “I am with the Embassy Tour. My clients have asked if I know a good lawyer who might be able to give them some advice. I had heard you were here, so I told them of you and of your fame at winning cases in Boston. They want to meet you. And I’ve wanted to meet you for years.”

She took Jake’s lack of instant response as an invitation to continue. “I can see that I interrupted you in deep thought, Mr. Drummond. Would you prefer if I spoke with you in the morning?”

“No, no, now is fine Miss……I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name,” he replied. He was now just beginning to see her eyes. They were magnificent: Arctic Blue with tiny radiating lines running outward from each pupil, like solar flares blasting off from the sun. These were eyes from the wild, he reflected.

She smiled again, touched his still full Gin and Tonic, and said, “Do you think I could get one of these?” Her voice made his heart flutter, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since….well, he actually couldn’t recall the last time he felt such a flutter.

Before he could answer or even look for the bartender to place an order, she had done it herself. Without hesitation, and while she was saying “Do you think I could get one of those,” she had simultaneously signaled the barkeep and placed her own order. There was no lack of independence in this beautiful stranger. Jake was impressed.

She looked again directly at Jake. “I’m not at liberty, just yet, to tell you my name or my clients’ names. We leave tomorrow for an international gathering in Toronto. We then fly to Geneva. I’ll be in Boston ten days later, on October 15th. May we meet then at your office,” she matter of factly inquired?

She already knew the answer would be yes. She had read his eyes, just as she had always been able to do. She had the advantage on Jake, as his mind was still stuck in the predictable fantasy about beautiful women and a hotel key.

She took a long and pleasing sip of her G&T, and arose off the stool. Knowing the effect she was having on Jake, she bent forward and whispered into his ear, “I’ll see you in Boston on the 15th.” She turned, flashing one more blinding beam into Jake’s still unfocused eyes, and then she walked away. Her walk was syncopated, almost dance-like. Jake’s left hand found the key still in his pocket. The fantasy was shattered.

As he turned back to his drink, the bartender spoke. “Man, you are one lucky dude.” Jake didn’t feel lucky. He felt heartbroken, and he wasn’t sure why. When he went to bed alone that night in his little Hawaiian bungalow he lay awake for hours. “What was that all about,” he wondered?