Going All In

It takes a little convincing, but we at least get Andy to put off leaving today so we can talk. There is a matter of their tickets, which with a phone call we move them to the next day's flight. Before we even get into explaining why we are here and what we need them for, Andy tells us that they have be back home within the next two days... and that is that. Orders are in from the home front I reckon.

"It's not that we HAVE to be home, we told them we would be home." Andy defends himself against Lou's chiding that he is henpecked. Well... pussy-whipped is what Lou said.

Mike is nodding as well. "You boys don't know how lucky we have it. Our girls leave us be come fishin' time out here in this place. They don't have a hard time with it, as long as we get back to the old homestead when we told them we would." He looks to Andy for approval and gets a quick, military nod.

"Hey... guys, we don't want to get you into trouble. This isn't something that is going to happen right now anyway. Thirty days... we have thirty days until we need you boys." I try to ease my way into their plans.

We are standing outside on the pier. I wish we were in the coach with airconditioning and a cold Negro Modelo, but Andy has it all buttoned up for the season and isn't willing to break the seal.

"Why don't we take our car into town and get a couple of rooms. We'll have a nice lunch and dinner and talk about all of this." Chris tries to usher us toward the cab.
"Why don't you just have that cab take us to the airport, friend. We can talk there." Andy is still as stiff as a starched white shirt. The smile he had given Lou after the bear hug has been pushed to the back of the line and now that regimented sour-puss expression is back.
"Come on, Andy, I thought we had this settled. Your tickets have already been moved to tomorrow's flight." I give him a pat on the back and try to usher him toward the cab. He stands fast.
"We can still make that flight. They never have a full plane leaving this place."

Mike, on the other hand, is fine with an extended visit. He sides up with us and works on Andy.
"Come on now, Andy, we don't know when we are gonna see these fellas again." He reaches up and puts a hand on Andy's shoulder. "We'll take our flight tomorrow, eh?"

With a tisk, Andy complies and we all head over to our hired car. Our driver recommends Las Palomas and we end up with a five room penthouse overlooking the Sea of Cortez for a little less than a grand a night. It all goes on Antonelli's bill.
We mill around in the lobby while they check us in for the night. Beautiful spot that I think we will return to when we come back to visit Andy and Mike while they fish.

They send a porter up with us, his cart holding the four bags between Andy and Mike. I'm sure he thinks this might be a light tip. After he shows us the suite, Chris says something in his ear and then hands him a fifty. The young man smiles widely and then bows out as the door closes.
"What did you tell him?"
"That there was more where that came from if he could get what we wanted."
"What is it that we wanted?" Lou opens the refridgerator under the bar in the kitchen and pulls out a cold beer. He holds it up and I nod. He tosses it across the room to me and luckily I catch it as he pulls out several more. Tile floors are pretty unforgiving to dropped bottles of beer.

"A little local stuff, papers, you know... stuff like that." Chris walks says, his steps echoing off the tile as he walks the suite.
"Nice." Lou hands Chris a beer as he passes. He looks at Andy, who shakes his head.
"Ohhh, come on Andy, how are we going to have any fun with you all zipped up like this. Have a fucking beer."

"I'd rather not." Andy has his hands in his pockets, still not quite sure he likes being hijacked like this.
"Yeah, Andy likes them Mango/Passion fruit margaritas... don't ya, Andy." Mike smiles, just trying to help. You can tell by the shade of red that it was more information that Andy wanted to part with.

"Jesus, Andy, your cat was out of the bag in Vegas. I know you can party, you strippin' bastard." Lou pulls up a highball glass from beneath the bar and puts some ice in it, "Two hundred dollar a bottle Scotch as I remember."

"I don't need to get that drunk ever again." Andy says as he watches Lou, taking a seat on the other side of the bar.
"Sure you do. You aren't flying that plane tomorrow. It is a scientific fact that people enjoy their long flights more when they are passed out."
"You're an idiot."
"Let's keep that between us, okay?" Lou pours a generous amount of Jack Daniels in through the ice until there's a good three fingers in the glass. Then he pulls up a bottle of what looks like lemonade, gives a good shake, and pours it in on top.
The mixtures rolls in the glass as he pours and doesn't even need to be stirred.
When he is done he slides it across to Andy, who apparantly has dropped his objections like third period French. Lou even puts a long straw in it for him. Would have been garnished with fruit and an umbrella if there was any of that.

With a long draw on the straw he takes down half of the amber beverage. Before he speaks again he takes a long tick off of the drink once more and empties the rest of it, pushing the glass back to Lou over the granite bar top.
"Oh... shit, we're in trouble now." Lou smiles.

Their are five rooms and six of us. I am betting that at least one of us is on the patio when we wake up. Who gives a shit. I'm not here to sleep, I'm here to see our old buddies and talk them into this new journey we are going to take.

Once again we are without a change of clothing. Once again we have to call down to the lobby and find out if they have a clothier of something of that nature. It's a good thing most of these little towns have a bazaar of some kind running every day of the week. What they don't have on hand they get for us down some tourist packed alley.

We end up on the balcony of the suite with our own bartender, a margarita machine, and enough tequila to bring this town to its collective knees. There is a chef with a large open air grill cooking marinated meats and vegetables, shrimp and scallops the size of your fist. Mike can't help but stand over the guy's shoulder and watch his technique... asking him about the marinade, about where the shrimp and scallops are from. The chef happily quarters a scallop and spears one with the large fork he is turning the meat with. Mike takes the piece in his fingers.

"Shouldn't use the same fork you are stabbing through that meat, fella. Not so sanitary."
The guy just smiles as he watches Mike pop the scallop chunk in his mouth. It's a little hot, so Mike sucks air in around it before he chews.
"Oh ya, that's a good one."

I nudge Lou, "We are going die fat and happy hanging out with him."
Lou takes a draw off of his margarita, "Not a bad way to go." He holds his glass up to our bartender, "Needs more cactus juice, amigo."

Jerry produces a box of cigars that he brought from the ship and those of us who want one spark them up, letting the smoke mellow us where the tequila doesn't. With all the Muerte Verde we have consumed in the past months, the tequila they are using for these margaritas falls short.

Andy is into his second margarita before he wants some answers. We leave that to Chris, since every other word out of our mouths seems to get corrected. He doesn't cotton to the "Salad Bowl Trick" explanation. I see a lot of head shaking on Andy's part, whether it is in disagreement or just disbelief. Antonelli ends up with pen and paper, sketching out a small drawing or two to add to his explanation.

The day rolls on. Either Andy has asked a lot more questions or margaritas make him as thick as a brick. Which ever it is, he is still talking to Chris after we have given our best explanation to Mike.

"Oh ya, sounds kinda strange... six handles on a salad bowl." Mike holds his chin with a thumb and forefinger. "Ya know, I don't remember ever seeing a salad bowl with handles."
Lou chokes on his margarita, which is really a glass of ice cold tequila with a lime ice floater. Mike makes him laugh more than anyone I have seen.

Our explanation gets a quick and dirty look from Chris, who seems to have finished with Andy.
"If I hear this thing being called a salad bowl one more time I'm going to have hits put out on the both of you." He says this with a smile, but there is a veiled threat behind that friendly face. He and Andy move to the semi-circle of patio chairs the rest of us are sitting in. Antonelli sits on the edge of his seat, prompting the rest of us to scoot to the edge of ours to gather in a tighter group.

"The six of us need to keep this absolutely secret." He puffs his cigar to life and takes the last hit in deep, breathing it out as he continues. "Regardless of what you think of this little experiment, I want you to remember that my father died to make this happen."

That did it. The thought of Bear being tortured to death gives this whole project a new life. Maybe there is something to this. Maybe the Clarok holds some great mystery that the average man cannot fathom. Whatever the case, it won't be any skin off of our backs to give it a shot.

"Now Andy here has agreed to go in on this." He looks to Andy for reassurance and gets a quick nod. Chris looks at Mike, "Did these yahoos explain what is going on here?"

Mike perks up like a german shepard ready to chase a ball. "Well, I got the part about the salad bowl and the six handles. Is there more?"

Antonelli shoots us a final dirty look and then turns back to Mike and briefs him on everything. Lou and I get a lot more out of this explanation than we did on the ship. Jerry benefits as well, having only heard our convoluted version of the facts.

When Chris finishes with his report, we all fall silent. The unknown, the mystery of the Clarok, the Mayans... the Bermuda triangle, the ingredients of this new adventure promise to be either the most exciting time any of us have ever spent. Or it could be the biggest gag to be played on modern man since the opening of Capone's Vault. We will all find out in one month when we are to rendezvous back on Antonelli's ship.

Plans are made to collect both Andy and Mike from their respective homes in the G-4. Chris makes it clear to them that if their involvement in the project produces any monitary hardship that he will provide ample compensation.

As far as the three of us, we head back to El Corazon for a much needed visit. We have freight to deliver, and the compound is most likely been overrun by monkeys by now.