Helping You To Succeed

Rudy Live @ Blackstone Bay Part Two

You can read Part One Here.

Some road trips were filled with majestic scenery, while others would exacerbate her car sickness to the point of incapacitation. This road trip seemed to be a mixture of both. The road to Maracas, a gorgeous beach on the north coast of Trinidad, wound its way through forested areas, dotted with small wooden houses and glimpses of the blue Caribbean Sea. Every so often, splashes of color would flash through the greenery, as the hidden houses painted in those bright yellow, and orange colors would peek through. She allowed herself to inhale the scent of the ocean; the salty, moist that let one know they were nearing the ocean.

She had agreed to this short drive with the guy she had met at the bar in the hotel last night. He swore he had been here before and that it was worth the quick trip just to experience the view and the food that was awaiting at the beach.

‘It is the most interesting fast food in these parts.” He’d boasted.

She had doubted him. He was from France, a place where they thought frogs and octopus were amazing cuisine. The thought made her feel more nauseous. She feigned exhaustion; it would be so not sexy to throw up in the taxi he had hired for the ride. These island cab drivers, or taxi drivers, were not as chatty as the ones in London or New York and she was grateful. She rocked from side to side in the back seat as her new friend sat next to the driver who was navigating the winding and sloping road with ridiculous speed. It was the Frenchman’s fault… he had insisted that time was of the essence.

Marcel from Marseille. ‘Who cares where you’re from?’ She had said to herself when he approached her at the bar. But it did have a ring to it. Her brother had insisted that she needed to come to Trinidad to get over her divorce. Apparently three years was not enough time to get over her ex-husband. The reality was, she was over him five years into a seven-year marriage, that yielded nothing but huge gambling debts, and a psychiatric analysis of her anger management problems during the counselling sessions. The overwhelming consensus from the misogynistic prick who called himself a shrink was that she was a tyrant. She had her lawyers file for divorce the very next day, and she had moved out that same evening. Well, that wasn’t all she had acquired. Her daughter Sunni, the one bright spot from seven years of chaos. She had gladly stayed with Uncle Rudy at the hotel.

Marcel had struck up a conversation with the driver. The crude sing song dialect was explaining the meaning of the lyrics to a song that was playing on the radio. She tried to listen, but it made no sense to her. The rhythm was seductive though. Carnival had been seductive and exhausting. She had allowed herself to have too much fun. Recovering from two days of drinking and dancing with thousands of strangers at the massive street party was going to require another holiday. Last night with Marcel; well, that was sex to music, and maybe that was exactly what she needed, as her hormones had been wreaking havoc with her since she had met him. She and Marcel had danced to that music playing on the car stereo late into the night at a pool side party at the Hyatt Regency. But she wasn’t about to just let him have his way with her. That would be too clichéd, and besides, she was no longer a college graduate on spring break.

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