Spray from the bow hit Ryan's face as he drove his new Chris Craft motor yacht through a wave. He tilted his head back and yelled feeling in tune with the power of the speedboat. He ran an import-export business, "Petite Tête Imports" trinkets from Algiers, oddities from the Congo and the average European goods. Until recently it was hanging on the brink of bankruptcy. Then Prohibition changed everything. He was able to use his contacts importing goods from abroad and distributing them in the States to import goods that were in greater demand – goods containing alcohol. He knew his wife would disapprove; call it 'Smuggling'. Perhaps it was, but is very lucrative and he enjoyed his new toys.
Its success had put some distance in their relationship because of the increasing time it demanded and the secrecy it entailed. This weekend she had gone upstate to an Opera festival. An invitation in calligraphy had arrived only the previous Saturday. Normally he would have gone too, but tonight he was going to talk to a new client.
Turning the boat back to the dock on his estate the afternoon sun flashed across the polished mahogany deck, momentarily blinding him. After the flash, as if by magic, his dock came into view and perched on its end was large cherry red parasol. This parasol hid from view what was behind it and Ryan's curiosity grew as the Chris Craft rapidly closed the distance. He could see a pair of long graceful legs stretching down to the water, their blue silk clad toes nearly touching as if trying to quench an insatiable thirst. When only a few boat lengths from the dock Ryan throated done the boat and the motor rumbled even closer. The red parasol spun as if a great wheel of fortune and moved in an arc revealing its holder like a curtain rising up on a stage.
The first thing Ryan noticed was Samantha's radiant smile; her brunet hair cut in a bob framed her face. She stood, tall and slim; the low sun gave her skin an extra rosy glow and made her blue silk dress appear purple. The dress hung straight down from her shoulders cut in the shape of a tube, but with her every move the blue silk fabric hugged her form revealing her trim, athletic body. She loved the feeling of the sun-warmed silk brushing her skin anticipating the caresses of her husband that night. Ryan cut the engine and the boat glided into the white boathouse. Quickly and efficiently he secured the boat and opened the door of the house. He was extremely excited by this unexpected appearance of his wife, but he was also a little apprehensive. He still had that meeting tonight and Samantha's attire suggested she had plans for them.
"Bon soir mon ami" Samantha almost purred.
"Hi honey, I thought …" was all Ryan got out before Samantha's finger pressed to his lips stopped him. Its warmth was welcome on his chilled lips.
"You know I love Mozart, but how could I see the 'The Magic Flute' without you? Let's go into town. Maybe we could have some ice cream."
She seemed a little over dress, for ice cream, but he gladly agreed. He went up to his dressing room and changed out of his boating cloths and into a tuxedo that would more closely match his spouse's outfit. When he descended the stairs downstairs, she was already in their green Morgan roadster, looking rather comical wearing the green scarf she had knit to match to car.
She smiled radiantly at him, batted her eyes and said, "Well, darling, what are you waiting for? Let's drive."
Ryan stepped down into the low car and drove off to town. They stopped at 'Murray's Ice Cream Parlor'. There were a few places to get ice cream, but Murray's was next door to the club that he had an appointment with in less that half an hour. They both ordered ice cream Sundays and Samantha chose a table in the front, surrounded on two sides by glass. It was odd, but Ryan felt a little exposed. What could be out of the ordinary, a husband having ice cream with is wife on a Saturday evening? When they were almost finished with their ice cream, Ryan excused himself to go and visit the lavatory. He made his way to the back of the ice cream parlor and instead of entering the restroom, he exited out the back and into the alley behind. Three doors down the alley was another none descript door that Ryan entered and descended a short flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was another door that had a slot in it at about eye level. Ryan knocked on this door and the panel in the slot opened briefly and then closed. The door opened and Ryan was greeted by the sound of a Jazz band playing 'Oh Lady Be Good' mixed with the small talk of a hundred people.
"Come on in Ryan. Jack is at the table over in the corner. He is expecting you," George, the bouncer told him.
Making his way through the crowd he came to owner's table and sat down. Ryan and Jack exchanged pleasantries and the talked for a few minutes. Ryan was feeling pressed for time and it appeared that something had changed in Jack's attitude since they had last spoken. It wasn't that he sensed Jack was unwilling to finalize the deal it just seemed he was stalling.
