Thursday, April 16
Paradisus Playa Conchal
Guanacaste, Costa Rica
The iguana lay on its back on a pool raft, a coconut shell drink in one scaly claw and the words Pura Vida in a speech balloon to the left of his mouth. The orange bucket hat upon which the lizard had been stitched was to Riley the single ugliest piece of headwear he had ever laid eyes on.
“Remind me again,” he called out, “how much did you pay for that thing?”
Scott Ross, who could have been the model used to create this masterpiece, tilted the hat off of his eyes and answered from the middle of the pool, “You can’t place a price on art, my friend. That’s why I snagged a second one of these beauties to take back to Tara.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
Riley watched as a cabana girl waded over to Scott’s raft with another coconut shell brimming with Yoo-hoo, three multicolored paper umbrellas, two toothpick-skewered maraschino cherries, and one bendy straw. He smiled as he laid his head back on the deck chair, enjoying the coolness of the open-sided cabana’s shade.
Riley was finally getting to the point where he could close his eyes without pictures of Platte River Stadium and Disneyland invading the darkness. But the what-ifs still plagued him-What if I had paid more attention to Sal back in Denver? What if I had dug deeper that Christmas Eve instead of putting a tough conversation off for another day? Why was my first reaction at Disneyland to put a bullet into my friend? Was there no other way? What kind of person does that make me?
“Skeeter,” he said, knowing that this train of thought was taking him nowhere, “what time is it?”
Skeeter, one cabana over, looked up from his copy of Goldsworthy’s The Fall of Carthage-a gift from Scott-and replied, “Five minutes since you asked last. Relax, Pach.”
Riley sat up quickly and gave Skeeter an incredulous look. “Wait a second! You’re telling me to relax? Excuse me, but do you see anyone else around this pool with long pants and boots on? anyone else in this sunny tropical paradise wearing all black? You look like a giant shadow of someone who’s not having a good time!”
“At least it matches,” Scott interjected from the pool.
“What?”
“The all black-at least it matches his piece.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, can you imagine Skeet wearing one of those green and red tropical shirts accessorized with that black nylon shoulder holster? What a horrible fashion faux pas that would be.”
“First off, I am not going to discuss clothing with you of all people-the walking fashion faux pas himself. Second… second, I don’t even remember what this whole discussion is about.”
“Score one for the faux pas,” Scott said as he slipped his hat over his eyes again.
Riley stared after Scott, then leaned back into his chair again, laughing. This trip had turned out to be everything he had hoped for, especially considering that his idea for bringing the team down to Costa Rica for some much needed R and R had initially seemed like it would be a no-go. Most of the members of Mustang team had already been redeployed to their old positions. Jim Hicks had appreciated the offer but declined, saying he was concerned he would get so bored on a beach vacation that he would start trying to stir up rebels to overthrow the Costa Rican government.
But ultimately, the trip had been just what Riley needed-a lot of laughs, a little bit of adventure, and a bucketful of escape. There were no phone calls, no inquiries, no depositions, and best of all, no media. One week into the two-week trip, he was finally feeling like he was decompressing.
“Hey, Skeet, what time is it?”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Covington,” came a female voice from behind him, “someplace you need to be?”
Riley turned with relief to see Khadi standing there. She was dressed in hiking shorts and a wispy buttoned shirt that showed just a hint of the scarring on her shoulder. She had gone into the town of Tamarindo by herself, insisting on some “time away from the guys.” Riley had wanted to send Skeeter with her, but for some reason she had felt that might defeat the away-from-the-guys aspect of her excursion.
As Khadi stretched out in the neighboring lounge chair, Riley closed his eyes again. “Actually,” he answered, “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”