TOXIC CABAL

Ch 14 - Trader Vic's + rum fun

                        Chapter Fourteen

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. - Henry David Thoreau

It was nearly seven PM on Monday, and James was feeling great. Two hours earlier, he had watched on as Japanese members of Sayonara Pharmaceuticals had lightly grilled Kristian before approving her use in a TV commercial for their new sleeping pill.  Actually, he had only watched the U.S. representative. The rest of the committee had conferred from Japan, jabbering with their stateside Exec via speakerphone in a language James didn’t understand.

James knew that he should probably still be out slamming down drinks with the local rep to celebrate their ongoing relationship. But Li Kawasaki had begged off, citing a birth in the family.  It was just as well, because James had other plans.

At the end of a quick round at a local bar, James had hastily arranged to meet Kris for dinner. Not even Kawasaki had bought into James’ claim that he wanted to discuss her ‘motivation.’

Now, James glanced around his office to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important before leaving for the night. He frowned as he noticed his reflection on a nearby window pane. His face seemed unchanged by his recent soul searching, but he had to admit he was getting older.

He was also getting randier.  In fact, he felt like he was nearing a flash point. Stevie had shrugged off his advances during the past weekend, leaving him feeling even more ambivalent than ever about his wife. He had been reduced to taking cold showers, but had been unimpressed with the results. He was beginning to suspect that, for the sake of society as he no longer knew it, something or someone was going to have to give.

In the ten minutes it took him to walk to Central Park South, James did not cool off any. Escaping the early evening's muggy heat, he ducked into the Plaza Hotel and turned to head down a winding staircase to one of the best Polynesian restaurants in town.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the murky atmosphere of the once-popular restaurant's lobby.  He looked through a doorway into the nearly deserted dining room.  He steered a sarong-clad hostess into leading him to a secluded booth in the corner of the lounge. 

He sat down and scooched back against the wall, giving himself a panoramic view.  The decor was a tribute to the clichéd idea of island paradise. He glanced up at a slanted thatched roof from which hung a couple of rustic wooden outriggers and a few dusty blowfish.

He looked over to the squared-off bar in the middle of the room, nestled invitingly under its own roof.  James took a moment to imagine the locale was surrounded by lush vegetation and a pristine beach somewhere on a tiny atoll. Right, he thought, furnished by a Pier One Imports shipping container that had washed ashore.

The thick wooden tables near him were all empty. Across the room, a portly couple sat talking quietly as they browsed through a plastic bag of paraphernalia collected from a day of sightseeing. There were a couple of other lost souls at the bar. James ordered a rum punch from a friendly Samoan in a Hawaiian shirt and rolled his shoulders, willing himself to unwind.

No sooner had he fantasized himself onto an idyllic sand beach than he saw Kris out of the corner of his eye. She made her way to his table with long, swinging strides. A playful smirk tugged at one side of her mouth.

He gave her a cursory inspection. She was dressed simply, in a white cotton T-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans. James stood up a bit awkwardly from the bench seat of the booth as Kris slid in opposite of him.