The lullaby of the waves rolling in on the beach and the salty aroma in the air partner up on me and I’m soon drifting off. I slide my ball cap down over my eyes, and together with my Blues Brothers Ray-bans, and the shade of this palm tree, the tropical sun doesn’t have a chance of keeping me awake. The ice and snow of Chicago are a million miles away.
Zzzzt… zzzzt… zzzzt… zzzzt…
Don’t pick that phone up. Let it lay there on your chest. Let it go to voicemail. Don’t you do it.
I pick up the phone and peak under my ballcap to see who it is. Shit. It’s Jonathan.
“This better be goddamned important.”
“Well, hello to you too, Thomas. How’s your vacation?”
“It was wonderful beyond belief right up to the point where you called me. Now, what’s up?”
“How’s Angela?”
“She’s fine. She’s splashing around in the waves, looking gorgeous. Now what the fuck is going on? Why are you calling me?”
He pauses and sighs, stalling, before he finally says, “It’s the Robertson Deal. Dude, you know I wouldn’t call you on vacation if it wasn’t important.”
“What’s going on with it? I had that thing signed, sealed and delivered before I left.”
“I think he’s getting cold feet. His emails and texts make it sound like he’s thinking about backing out. He’s asking to talk to you.”
Angela trots across the sand and steps up to my hammock, dripping on me. She picks up a towel and dries herself. She’s already tanned a good bit even though we’ve only been here a couple days.
“What’s up? Who’s on the phone? If you tell me it’s Jonathan, I’m going to punch you in the throat, just so you know.”
“It’s Jona — What did you say?”
“Thomas? Are you still there? Did I lose you?”
“I’m still here. Hold on.”
She plants her bare feet in the sand, hands on hips. “You heard me. You promised no work. I know how this goes. I’ve seen it too many times. It starts with a call. Then three more calls. Then you have to go back to the room and get on your computer. And before you know it, I’m sitting in a tiki bar, sipping margaritas alone, looking up into the window of our room at you pacing the floor with your phone in your ear.”
“It’s not going to be like that this time. It’s just Jonathan freaking out. You know he does that.”
“I heard that,” comes from the phone. “This is not just me freaking out. Here, let me send you this email thread. It really sounds to me like he wants to back out.”
“Don’t you do it, Jonathan! Whatever is going on, just handle it. Do your damn job,” she shouts as she shakes her finger at my phone.
“Honey, honey,” I plead. “It’s okay. Just let me take a look at this thread. Then I’ll know for sure if it’s just him freaking out or if it’s something I need to address.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“It’s a multi-million dollar deal, hon.”
“Fine.” She turns so quickly that droplets of water fly from her hair. “You have twenty minutes,” she adds over her shoulder as she walks away.
“Ug!” I grunt as I put the phone back to my ear. “Forward the damn thread to me. And any texts you have too.”
Twenty minutes later, as Angela steps back up to my hammock. I’ve retrieved my laptop from the room, and I’m back on the phone with Jonathan.
“Shit, this is bad. We gotta get him on a conference call like now or we might lose him.”
Angela’s mouth drops open. She spins again and stomps away.
With a deep sigh, I try to refocus on my work with no luck. Gonna have to fix that somehow. If it can be fixed again. I wonder if maybe this time that work interrupts our life is going to be the one where it can’t be fixed.
“Thomas! You there? Should I try to dial Robertson in to our call?”
“No. Not yet. I want to go over a game plan with you that I have in mind before we dial him in.”
I adjust my ball cap and sunglasses as I stride through the sand toward the tiki bar. I see her sitting there alone sipping a margarita. I notice the sign on the side of the cash register that had caught my eye our first day here. She jumps a bit as I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Hi hon,” I say. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“And you’re sorry that you got ass-deep in work when we were supposed to be on vacation. I’ve seen this movie, Thomas. Too many times. And I’m tired of it.” She sips from her straw.
“I know. And believe me, I get it,” I respond as I take a seat next to her. The bartender gives me a glance and raises his eyebrows. “I’ll have what she’s having,” I say. “Double the tequila.”
“So did you save the day? Like you always do?”
“I did. Robertson didn’t back out. He’s going to go with the deal.”
“That’s good. Should be a nice bonus.”
“Mhm. It will.”
We sit in silence for a long moment sipping our drinks. I stare out at families playing in the water near the edge, windsurfers skipping over the waves further out. The sun is starting to set and the ocean glimmers.
“Been thinking,” she says without looking at me.
“Me too.”
“I’m thinking about talking to my sister about moving in with her for a while.”
Those words hit me like a punch in the gut.
“Wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”
“No. I already know. You’re going to back off the work. No more calls when we’re on vacation. No more travel, no more late nights. I’ve heard all this before.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not it.”
I remain silent long enough for her to turn to me. “What it is then?” she finally asks.
I get up from my barstool, step over to the register and pop the tape that’s holding the hand-written sign on it that reads, “Bartender Wanted”.
I hand it over the bar and say, “I’d like to apply for this position.”
