With that call out of the way, Travis found time to relax. He gave some thought to catching a cab back into George Town to rent a car, but decided against it. Instead, Travis walked to Chisholm’s grocery to pick up a few things he’d need for his stay.
He took a cab back to The Pools and put in a call to Veronica Evans. She worked in investment and special services at National Commercial Bank, where Travis kept his money. In her position she handled demand and time deposits in all major currencies, investment advisory services, and spot and forward trading in the foreign exchange markets. Travis had talked with her many times over the past two years, and there was always a very sexual under tone to their conversations.
When Travis told her that he was on the island, Veronica asked him to meet her for dinner in George Town at a restaurant called Paradise. “It is the best place to enjoy the true Cayman sunset overlooking the harbor at Eden Rock,” Veronica told him.
Travis was excited to meet the woman who had the most adorable West Indian accent he’d ever heard. He waited at the oceanfront bar for her to arrive. “Travis?” Veronica said as she approached him at the bar.
As soon as he heard her voice, Travis turned around quickly and stood up. “Veronica?”
“I know it was you the minute I see you sitting there. You look exactly like you sound,” Veronica said.
Travis looked her over and a smile slowly came across his face. “Please, have a seat,” he said. Veronica sat down at the bar next to him. “You don’t look anything like I pictured you.”
“What you think I look like? No, let me guess. You thought I was a little skinny something, right?”
Travis smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly right.”
“Everyone I have conversation with by phone is surprised when they see me.” Veronica laughed. She wore her hair in short dreadlocks, which seemed to fit her attractive face and full lips. Her dark skin was radiant in the island sun. But what brought the smile to Travis’s face was her body. Her hips and her chest screamed for attention. Veronica stood five feet ten inches tall and had the type of body that used to be called a brick house. She was very well put together, dressed in a blue-skirted business suit and white blouse, which by this time was buttoned down.
“So, tell me the truth, Travis. Are you disappointed in what you see?” she asked, leaning forward to give him a view of her ample cleavage.
“Not at all.” Travis leaned closer to her. “In fact, seeing you makes me wish I had made this trip much sooner,” he said, smiling all over himself.
For the next hour or so, they had drinks at the bar and Veronica told Travis about life at the bank. “NCB is a subsidiary of National Commercial Bank of Jamaica. I was transferred in when a mutual fund company, acquired just over seventy-five percent of the share holdings in the bank,” she said.
“Jamaica. Is that where you’re from?”
“Yes. I am from Saint James Parish.”
“Saint James Parish? I’ve never heard of that.”
“It very near to Montego Bay,” Veronica answered.
“I’ve been to Jamaica a few times.”
“Have you now? What part you been to?”
“I’ve been to Montego Bay, to Kingston, and Negril.”
“You know, as many times as you’ve been there, you really not been to there ’til you go with somebody who from there. You see, you probably spend all of your time at whatever resort you went to. Am I right?”
“You’re right. We went on the little resort sponsored shopping trip, but they try to have enough going on so you stay in the resort.”
“They don’t want you rich Americans spending too much of your money outside the gate. Maybe somebody else make some money other them,” Veronica said.
After a bit more small talk, they were seated at a table with a view of the setting sun for dinner. “Do you know what you want?” Travis asked as they looked over the menu.
Veronica smiled at Travis. “I always know exactly what I want.”
“And what might that be, Veronica?”
“A very juicy cut of filet mignon,” Veronica replied, looking into his eyes. “It’s called Filetto Al Pepe Verde, and it’s served with our homemade peppercorn sauce,” she said slowly and deliberately. “What about you?”
“I was thinkin’ about the New Zealand rack of lamb. But you’ve got me feelin’ the Mermaid Surf n’ Turf Platter. You know, that big steak and jumbo shrimp combination, grilled to perfection, served with a guacamole sauce,” Travis said, keeping the tone of the flirtation.
After dinner and not so polite dinner conversation was finished, Travis asked about the nightlife.
“There’s a place called Bamboo that’s nice. It’s located at the Hyatt Regency Hotel.
“What kind of place is it?” he asked.
“You go there for an upscale kind of sophisticated atmosphere. It’s a sushi bar and lounge. Do you like sushi, Travis?”
“I love to eat sushi, but not right now.”
“Or there’s The Matrix. They have a DJ that plays hip-hop and reggae. Or we could go to Bed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Travis, honey, if you could only see the look on your face.” Veronica laughed. “Bed is a cozy little lounge on the Harquail Bypass, where the drinks are served by waiters in silk pajamas.”
“You are too much, girl.”
“No, me just enough.”
Travis and Veronica ended up at The Next Level on West Bay Road near the Marriott, where the pair danced to reggae music. It was a little after 1:00 in the morning when Veronica arrived in Rum Point and pulled up in front of Travis’s condo to drop him off.
“Do you want to come in?” Travis asked as he got out of her car. He leaned in the window. “It’s a long ride back.”
“But it will be a longer ride if I come in,” Veronica said. “I must work in the morning, and we have business to transact at the bank.”
Travis laughed. “Okay, Veronica. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Travis arrived at the bank dressed like a tourist, complete with a camera around his neck. After a bit of flirtatious small talk and comments about Travis’s attire, Veronica personally assisted him in depositing $140,000. Once the transaction was complete, Veronica asked Travis what his plans were for the day. He had made arrangements to take a bus tour of the island, after which he planned to relax at the beach by the condo.
“You can take my car, as long as you come back for me at five,” she offered.
Travis gave it some thought, but declined her offer. “I really don’t feel like driving here. That’s why I didn’t rent a car. The whole left side driving thing is kind of freaky to me, you know.”
“I understand. To be honest, most of our accidents are from you Americans renting cars. So, can we get together tonight?” Veronica asked.
“Oh, no doubt. Why don’t you come by the condo tonight? I’m sure we’ll find something to get into.”
“That’s sound good to me. Say around nine?”
“Sounds like a plan is coming together. See you around nine, Veronica,” Travis said as he headed out of the bank. “Oh yeah. Bring some swimwear.”
From then on, Travis was a tourist. The money was now safely in his account, which brought the balance to just over $200,000. He stopped at the first bar he found and had a couple of strong tropical drinks before proceeding to the tour bus.
While waiting to board the tour bus, Travis struck up a conversation with two British women who were visiting the island from York, a borough of North England. Once the tour began, the group was driven around the island to the many points of interest. Travis and his English companions took quite a few digital photos of themselves and the sights.
“The Cayman Islands were first sighted by European explorers on 10 May, 1503,” the tour conductor told the group, “owing its existence to a chance wind that blew Christopher Columbus’s ship off course.” He continued to tell the story of the islands’ discovery, and the origin of the name Cayman Islands. “By 1530, the name Caymanas was being used. It is derived from the Carib Indian word for the marine crocodile, which is now known to have lived in the islands. This name, or a variant, has been retained ever since.” He went on to describe the settlement of the islands, including their history of slavery. Travis appreciated the history lesson, but was looking forward to relaxing that afternoon.