Gregson watched the park from his apartment window; the fog rolled in and the fog rolled out. Chess pieces were getting rained on; the players had left. Gregson smiled. He sipped his coffee and watched from a distance. Reality needed him, but he didn’t need reality. Deep down, Gregson wanted to be fooled. Most crime was too commonplace. He crumpled the advertisement for the Caribbean Cruise.
“I guess I’ll go,” he said.
The flight was tedious. The people were impatient. Boredom was killing him. If the ship lacked intrigue, he didn’t know what he would do. Gamble. Drink. Eat Seafood. What else was there? His flight landed in Texas and he boarded Voodoo Sands for Haiti. It was five stories of entertainment. He stripped down to his speedo, soaked in a hot tub, and drank Budweiser. It was hurricane season, but he didn’t worry about that; the winds favored him.
“Are you here for the tournament?” A girl asked.
Gregson popped out of his daze like a sunflower seeing the light. “What kind of tournament?”
“Poker; what else?”
“I guess this ship is too small for golf.”
“They have that too, but not until Island 3.”
“Maybe this cruise was worth it,” Gregson said.
“I’m Tiffany; will you spot me 50?”
“What the hell.” Gregson slipped her the bill.
“What’s your room number?” She asked.
“Oh… 665. Why do you ask?”
Just that you might have a surprise waiting for you later this evening.”
Gregson smiled and Tiffany walked away. She had more hustles to make.
Poker took balls to win and Gregson was ready to play.