Carly and I slogged our luggage through local Jamaican customs, schlepped out of the terminal and found our rental car. In the space of the last week, we'd graduated from State and gotten married. And here we were, less than 24 hours after the wedding, ready to chill out and have fun on our honeymoon.
"I'll load the luggage if you go in search of directions to the bungalow in Negril," I said. Off she went.
We hadn't packed all that much other than shorts, shirts, bathing suits, and sunscreen, having agreed that hauling a lot of clothes to Negril didn't make much sense.
"Who wears all that much in Jamaica?" I'd asked. "Besides, I'm kind of figuring that as newlyweds on our honeymoon we aren't likely to be wearing any clothes at all much of the time. At least, I hope so." She'd punched me, hard, in the arm for that crack.
I'd finished loading the luggage and was lost in thought when I heard my name.
"Earth to Scott!" Carly yelled, with a laugh. I looked up and there she was, waving a map and pointing at the car.
"Smart ass!" I retorted, opening the driver's side door and sliding behind the wheel.
"Yup," she said, "smart as hell and I know you love my ass." Carly leaned toward me and kissed me on the lips.
She was dead right on both counts. I'd always been the smartest person I knew until I'd taken English Lit. I wasn't shy about class participation, but for the first time I'd found another student who was at least as well-prepared in class as I was. In fact, Carly was always just a little bit better prepared, which left me just a little bit annoyed. I'd started hitting the books harder, but she just seemed to have a broader grasp of the subject matter. A couple of weeks into the semester, the Professor had asked us both to stay after class.
"You two are natural leaders," she'd said. "I'd like to ask you to run a study section for the students who are struggling. Say, twice a week for extra credit. Not that either of you need it."
We'd both agreed to take on the challenge, and had worked out some ground rules between us, deciding that one of us would take the lead in alternate classes, while the other would chime in and offer supplemental comments. It was a good arrangement, ensuring that neither of us would be overly burdened with the extra work.
Carly had taken the first class, and I'd had the opportunity to watch her closely and listen to her comments. I'd quickly realized how smart she was. And for the first time, I saw how truly pretty she was. She was 5 feet 2 inches, – perhaps 115 pounds, with a slender, very fit little body and, I guessed, A-cup boobs. Her hair was dark black and straight. She kept it cropped short so it didn't get in her face when she worked out. Her eyes are piercing and grey. When she looked at me, I felt like she was seeing right into my soul. I found that I liked what I saw, and I saw a lot because I couldn't stop looking. Within a month, we were fast friends. By the end of the semester we were dating. And by the end of the year, we realized we were in love. I'd proposed when we were juniors, and we'd set a date for a week after graduation. The wedding had been perfect, and so we'd set off for Jamaica, rented our car, headed west toward Negril. And proceeded to get hopelessly lost. Carly was having none of my usual stubborn male reluctance to stop and ask for help.
"There's a local store. Pull over!" she said. I saluted and pulled the car off the road next to the run-down building she'd pointed towards. I started to get out of the car, but Carly stopped me. "You got us lost in the first place, so I'm getting help," she insisted, opening her passenger door before I could object, and disappearing through the open doorway, above which had been painted "BIG Daddy's" in now-faded maroon paint.
I'd sat for maybe ten minutes when Carly came out of the store, followed by a tall, muscular black man. Carly opened the passenger door and climbed back in the car. To my surprise, her companion did the same.
"Scott, this is Big Daddy," Carly said, making the introduction. "He owns the store and offered to show us the way, isn't that nice of him?"
I turned in the seat. Big Daddy lived up to his name, and had to scrunch down to fit his tall frame into the back seat.
"Pleased to meet you," I said.
"Likewise, my friend," he replied in a soft voice. "You're not far from your bungalow, but it's hard to find, so I thought I'd better show you directly."
I thanked him for his kindness.
"Think nothing of it," he said. "Always glad to help out a young honeymooning couple such as you and Miss Carly, there. Besides, it's not far at all." He was right, it turned out. Following his directions, we pulled up in front of a secluded little cottage overlooking the beach and the ocean. The view was gorgeous.
Before I could stop him, Big Daddy had grabbed our luggage under one arm and carried it into the bungalow. Now embarrassed by his kindness, I thanked him again.
"Can I drive you back to your store?" I asked, but he smiled and shook his head.
"You'd just get lost again and besides, a walk will do me good."
I reached for my wallet to tip him, but he stopped me. "No need, no need. I'm sure you'll find a way to repay me during your stay."
Carly and I set to putting away our clothes, which didn't take long. I checked the refrigerator and found it well stocked with water and various fruit juices, as promised by the rental company. There was rum in one of the cupboards.
"Why don't you make us some rum drinks while I go change?" Carly suggested, heading for the bedroom. I could hear her humming to herself. I made the drinks and had just sat down for a rest, when there was a knock at the door. I started to open the door, when it was abruptly forced inward, knocking me off balance as three large black men barged into the bungalow. I recognized Big Daddy as one of the intruders and moved to confront him.
"What the hell . . ." was as far as I got, when suddenly the air was driven out of my body by a solid punch to the solar plexus delivered by Big Daddy's massive fist. All of a sudden I was on the ground curled into a ball and wheezing and gasping for air.
"You'd best shut the fuck up if you don't want to get seriously hurt, Young Squire," Big Daddy said, leaning down close to my face. It was said without particular malice, more of a statement of fact than a threat. He turned to one of the two other intruders. "Junior, get him up and tied to that chair," he said, pointing to a club chair in the sitting area. "Pops, you go and get the white girl out of the bedroom. Make sure she doesn't scream, but don't hurt her."
The older of the two went to the bedroom, opened the door, and went in, while Junior picked me up like I weighed nothing at all, dropped me onto the chair, and produced some rope. In no time at all, my wrists were secured to the arms of the chair, while my legs were tied to the legs. Junior put a couple of loops around my chest and then surveyed his work.
A moment later Pops came back into the room, pushing an outraged Carly along in front of him. She was struggling to break free, and as soon as she saw Big Daddy, she started yelling. "What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
Big Daddy's response was to give me a backhand to the side of my head that rocked me back into the chair. My ears rang and I saw stars. He turned to Carly and spoke calmly.
"Best listen up, little princess. Me and my friends figure on having some fun with you two honeymooners." he said. "Have no doubt, we will definitely have our fun." Based on the efficient but controlled brutality he had used to take control, I had little doubt at all.
Big Daddy continued. "This is going to happen, little princess, and the only choice you have is about how it's going to happen. If you fight us, we'll put your husband in the hospital and make things painful for you, too. Cooperate, and no harm will come to you. You just might find that you're enjoying yourself."
"Bastard!" Carly spat. Big Daddy's response was to raise his hand as though to hit me again. "Wait, stop! Don't hurt my husband," Carly cried.
"Will you cooperate?" Big Daddy asked.
"Yes," Carly said. "Just don't hit him anymore." She sat down on the couch.
"Now, for some preliminaries," said Big Daddy, as he produced a spliff – a hugely oversized cigarette no doubt full of local marijuana. He wet the spliff between his lips and drew on it, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs. Then he offered it to Carly. She shook her head.
"I don't use drugs, and I don't smoke, either" she said.
"Drugs? Little princess, this is our sacred herb. It frees us from the confusion of this world and opens the doorway to higher consciousness," Big Daddy replied. "No matter. I insist you partake of this offering." With that he sat down next to her on the couch. "Purse your lips and when I blow the smoke to you suck it down into your lungs in one steady draw and hold it there. It will be easy this way."
Big Daddy took the lit end of the spliff and carefully placed it in his mouth and then slowly pushed air through it and out the other, unlit, end. A steady stream of dense smoke poured out and into Carly's mouth as she sucked it in and held it. To my surprise, she didn't cough. She held the smoke for 30 seconds and then exhaled slowly. Big Daddy waited a moment and then again blew the smoke into Carly's mouth. The process was repeated again and again until the spliff had burned down to the point where it could not be safely held in Big Daddy's mouth.
"Drink up," he said, handing Carly the rum drink I had prepared.
"Thanks," she said, and took the drink, taking a long swallow. Big Daddy motioned for her to drink more. This time, she drained the glass. Another spliff was produced and the process was repeated. Carly was more confident with her part, and sucked down more and more of the pungent smoke.
