I sat on the dock jutting into Lindberg Bay. The churning ocean swirled beneath me like a hungry tiger awaiting her zookeeper. I loved the ocean, but was terrified of being in the water. I had been an army guy. No water there. You would think that an island boy with a drunken sea captain…
He told her she was drunk. He told her he was foodless. His stepfather was already asleep; chuffing like a tiger on the Barcalounger, while eddies of dust swirled around his form from the recent plop of his butt on the thick cushion. If not for the stench of stale alcohol and unfiltered Camels, he…
I never understood why they called it a green room. A spider plant stood in one corner, that was it for green. Sprawled in the middle of the brown carpet lay Frank, the dead director of Island Zombies in Paradise. The faint smell of urine hung in the humid island heat. A ceiling fan slowly…
The bar had no sign. Cheryl said, “This place is, like, Tinsel Town or Tinsel Bar.” The basement stairs swelled out into a mucky alley. Keisha held her breath as they descended. At the bottom a hallway, two bathrooms, followed by neon signs with flashing arrows above two rooms: one said “drinks”, the other said…