Chapter 3

As John stepped down the stairs from the plane to the tarmac, the heat hit him like a furnace. He was ill-prepared for the heat, and had packed little besides toiletries, figuring on buying what he needed on the island. The Khakis and button down shirt were way too warm, and John figured that getting a more suitable change of clothes was priority number one.

He caught a taxi into Charlotte Amalie and was greeted by the sights and sounds of thousands of people. The cruise ships were in port, which turned Charlotte Amalie into one giant shopping mall with barkers trying to drag people into every store they passed.

"Check your cabin number inside and see if you have won a prize!" shouted one. "Watches! Cheapest in town! Jewelry! Diamonds!" yelled another. People were milling around the open storefronts, walking back and forth across the street in front of the slow moving taxi vans asking everybody if they were going back to the ship.

As John moved through the crowd, a large man with dreadlocks standing outside one of the many duty free liquor and cigarettes, cajoling the passing tourists to come inside. As John passed he pressed a card into his hand. "Try it mon. It will help you relax. It's right down the road." He then turned away shouting back at the crowd.

John crossed the street, and looked at the card before tossing it away. "Caribbean Liquors" it read. "This entitles the bearer to and extra 10% off our selection of fine liquor" He flipped it over, and in small letters was typed "THE RED DOOR"

Tom turned around, but the dreadlocked guy was gone. There was the usual mill of people walking around him, and in front of the store where the man had been. He looked down and saw other cards lying on the corner. He picked up a couple, and turned them over. Blank. Shaking his head, he turned around and continued walking.

As he crossed the next street, he looked down the alley to his right. No shops, narrow, and no tourists. At the end of it was a red door. John turned right. As he walked up to the building, he noticed that is was pretty old and shabby looking, about three stories tall and with faded yellow paint. John wondered if he was being set up to be robbed. "Stupid Tourist Falls for It Again!" the papers would read. As he approached the door he hesitated, then turned the handle and went through.

He climbed one set of stairs, and then another. The place smelled of old cooking oil and piss. There was very little light streaming through the dirty window at the top of the landing, highlighting the dust floating in the air. It was definitely not a tourist destination. He walked down the hall and came to another red door. He knocked softly. No answer. He knocked a little louder. John heard footsteps approaching from the other side, and the sound of a couple deadbolts unlocking.

As the door opened the bluest eyes he had ever seen greeted him. She held the door half open, seemingly ready to slam it in his face at a moment's notice. "Can I help you?" she asked in annoyed voice.

"Hello" John began to stammer. This man outside gave me this card..." Suddenly, the girl's eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted. John reached out to catch her. He picked her up and went inside, closing the door with his foot after he entered. The room was pretty threadbare, and roasting hot. No air-conditioner, and no fan. He laid her down on the ratty couch.

She could not have been more than 20 years old, and was skinny and pale. John found that unusual given her current location. She had short blond hair, and the t-shirt she was wearing hid her figure. The shorts were more helpful, revealing a shapely pair of legs. John went over to the cupboard of the kitchenette, and started opening cupboards in search of a glass. Most of them were empty save some plates and other dishes. He found one, then remembering the caution he was given about drinking cistern water, looked in the fridge for a bottle. Empty. He shut the door. There was no food in the place at all.

Taking a look at the girl on the couch, he made a quick decision. He left quietly, and quickly walked down the stairs. As he exited the alley he turned left back the way he came, and walked over to a little bodega that he had passed earlier. He hurriedly bought some cold bottles of water, some juice, and some chips and candy bars. He paid, and without even waiting for his change he was out the door.

Back up the stairs he went, lugging his stuff. He went back into the room at the end of the hall without knocking at the unlocked door. The girl was awake, and sitting at the end of the couch. Her head snapped up as he kicked the door shut. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" she asked weakly.

"Hi, my name is John. When you opened the door you passed out. I just got off my plane and was getting hungry, so I grabbed some stuff to snack on." He set the bags on the counter and started to unpack them. "I didn't get your name?" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"I didn't tell you, and I am not hungry" she said acerbically. "And you still didn't tell me who the fuck you are and what the hell you are doing here."

"I thought my travel agent had an office in the building" he lied, "I rented a place near St. John and I was going to be late getting in, so I wanted to let them know. Now don't tell me that you are not hungry - you look like you haven't eaten in days. Want some chips?" he said with his mouth full.

She got up and walked over to him, looked at the food and grabbed a bag of Doritoes and a Coke. Moments after they were opened, they were empty. "Brrraap" she burped noisily. "Um, excuse me" she said blushing. John liked the effect the color had as is spread from her face down to the neckline of her shirt. "My name is Toni. I am really Antoinette, but everyone calls me Toni. Thank you. You are right. It has been a while since I have eaten."