Chapter 8 The Visitors

The day after I gave the girls their ID necklaces, I got an e-mail from Mr. Paxton:

Kevin- I hope this does not come as a shock, but I have been getting daily reports about you. It's never judgmental, just a straight forward report of your activities. I hope you understand. I have entrusted you with a valuable piece of recently developed prime real estate. I have to make sure that my evaluation of you was correct. In yesterday's report, there was a description of the necklaces that you gave your employees. I must say, I was very impressed. This is a simple solution of a problem that I wish I had thought of. I have decided to give all my employees similar necklaces. This is further proof that my choice in hiring you was a good one. Keep up the good work. Roy

I felt very proud of myself. I took the letter to my girls, and read it during lunchtime. They all congratulated me. If anything, they were more impressed by Mr. Paxton's praise than I was.

"I think you might be up for a promotion," said Sarah.

"Maybe his heir to his fortune," said one of the L's over the intercom. "You know he has no kids."

"Whoa! We're getting a little carried away. It is just one idea," I said.

"You don't understand," said Samantha. "Mr. Paxton rarely praises someone like he praised you. 'Good job, ' is the best I had heard from him until this."

That made me pause. Maybe it was a big deal. Only time would tell.

Since I had decided that I would learn self-defense, I spent a few hours at the pistol range, learning to shoot.

I had tried to learn some martial arts. I never had been very coordinated. I barely passed gym in high school. My dad always said I took after my mom. She had been known to trip over her own shoelaces.

My dad and my sister were the jocks in my family. He had played football in college as a running back. And she had been a standout in both track and gymnastics.

After a couple attempts at judo with the U's, and taekwondo with the L's, I gave up. I just did not have the coordination to pull off the moves they wanted.

So I focused on shooting. I could not beat any of them on the pistol range, but at least I could do it without looking like a fool. If there ever came a time when we had to defend this island, I could do something.

There was a clearing in Sector 6, next to the house, on the opposite side from my room. That was where we all practiced our marksmanship. I would go out with my escort for the day, and squeeze off a few rounds. I'd compare my score to my escorts', and always lose. But I was getting better.

The background check on my friends came back in a little more than 2 weeks, on June the 20th. They were clean, of course. What could a couple of teens from a small town do to be a threat to Paxton Corporation?

I e-mailed them both, and asked how the 4th of July holiday looked. They could arrive the morning of the 2nd and leave the morning of the 5th. They called me back a few hours later, and said that their parents had given their permission. Their parents were a bit disappointed they wouldn't be there to celebrate, but their siblings would be there, and they understood what a rare opportunity this would be.

I guess I need to tell you about Spencer Shay and Collin Fixx. They have been my best friends since elementary school. Throughout junior high, and most of high school, we would spend weekends together. On Fridays, we'd go to our town's only movie theater and watch the latest film. On Saturdays, we'd play D&D in Spencer's basement. I guess you could say that we were your typical socially awkward nerd boys.

The island cured me of that. I hoped that this holiday would do the same for them.

Spencer was one of the skinniest persons I've ever known. He was about the same height as I, but his thinness made him look taller. He had bushy black hair that pointed out of his head in all directions.

His father was a county judge, who worked at the county seat, about 30 miles from our town.

Collin was about a head shorter than me. He had curly blonde hair that he kept under control by keeping it cut short. He also wore wire-rim glasses.

His father was a minister. The Reverend Fixx was the pastor at the church where Ellen's funeral was. He was the one who officiated at the service.

It was just about suppertime when I'd finalized the itinerary with my friends. One of the L's announced over the intercom that it was time to eat.

Everyone, but the L's, was at the table.

"I have an announcement to make," I said. "It has been finalized. Collin and Spencer will be coming to the island over the 4th holiday."

Everybody at the table looked puzzled for a second. "The 4th?" asked Samantha.

"You know; the 4th of July; Independence Day."

Uma spoke up. "That's right, the Independence Day holiday."

"And in celebration, I am declaring a holiday from working on the coconuts, and minimal housework, just enough cleaning to keep the house neat."

Tia nodded. "That's standard scheduling for when guests are here."

Kai continued. "These will be our first guests. It'll be good practice."

One of the L's spoke over the intercom. "What kind of entertainment do you want, while they are here?"

"I thought we'd do a traditional 4th of July cookout, and some fireworks off the pier, if we can get them."

Ursula gaped. "You want to blow up the pier?"

"Not explosives, fireworks; you know, roman candles, sparklers, firecrackers, and bottle rockets."

"Right," said several girls together.

"And what do you consider a traditional 4th of July cookout?" asked an L.

I smiled. "I guess that does vary, depending where you live. Let's see: we'll need a grill, steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, all the buns and fixings that go with them, chips, potato salad, cole slaw, watermelon, and some kind of dessert; maybe chocolate cake or pecan pie."

"That sounds delicious!" exclaimed Uma.

In the background I heard the sound of typing on the computer keyboard. "For a grill, do you prefer charcoal or gas?" an L asked.

"I'm used to charcoal. But gas might be more convenient."

"You cook?" Tia asked.

"Only on the grill; when my mom and sister were alive, my dad and I would spend the afternoon grilling meat on the 4th." I swallowed hard, as I remembered when my family was whole.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," said Tia.

"It's okay," I assured her.

Sarah cleared her throat. "Now, as to what type of reception we want to give your friends. Often a guest to one of Paxton's retreats will bring their whole family with them. In those cases, we can be as wholesome as Disneyland. On the other end, we can spend their whole visit sucking and fucking, like it was a Roman orgy." I held up my hand. "I want something in the middle. Most of the time, you're going to go the wholesome route. I'll let you know the itinerary as we get closer."

The 30th of June was the ship's last appearance before my friends' visit. I went out to greet it, which I hadn't done the past few times.

It was a good thing I did. There was a pallet with at least 20 boxes on it, designated for us. Some were marked "CAUTION: FIREWORKS" on the side, but others weren't so obvious.

The captain, who I had never met before, came down to the pier to meet me. He was a middle aged man who sported a salt-and-pepper captain's beard. "Looks like you have the makings of quite a holiday shindig," he said.

I nodded.

"My men and I are planning a party ourselves. It'll be nothing fancy; just some burgers and brews. It's going to be on my boat. Our families will be on board too, of course."

I smiled and nodded again. "Sounds like fun."

He cleared his throat. "From what I see, you are going to have quite a fireworks display. Would you mind if we were to park our boat off your pier, say a100 yards away, and watch you fire them off?"

I guess it was obvious that the only safe place for the pyrotechnics was the pier.

I pondered for a minute. "I don't see why not. If a rocket flies crooked and hits your boat, I can't take responsibility for any damage."

He nodded. "I'm a businessman myself. I understand. Here's a waiver of responsibility." He handed me a folded piece of paper.

I looked it over, like I understood what all the legal jargon was. "Then there's no problem. Enjoy the show."

He shook my hand and walked back up the gangplank.

I called after him, "We won't need another pick up until the 7th or 8th."

"Will do," he called back.

We ended up making three trips in the golf carts to get our cargo to the house.

Turns out that, in addition to the fireworks, there was a box full of steaks, hamburgers and hotdogs. They were packed in dry ice and express shipped from Omaha. We couldn't fit it all in our freezer. There was enough dry ice left that I supposed that it would keep it all frozen until the 4th.

In another box were a grill and enough charcoal for 10 cookouts. It took me most of the afternoon, with my friends' help, to assemble the grill. Some of the girls offered to help me. I shooed them away, saying that it was "man's work." The S's, who were my escort that day, hung around me and kibitzed from time to time. I could not get rid of them.

There were also some odd additions to this party kit, including a genuine malt shop style shake mixer, and several containers of malt. Evidently someone decided that milk shakes were a traditional part of a cookout. Actually, that didn't sound half bad.

On the 1st of July, I took my first vacation off the island.

I drew a name to see who would go with me. It was the TK's. Secretly I was pleased. They were natives to this island. They would be a better guide than the others.

I went to Waikiki, and saw the pretty girls and surfers there. We went to a luau that evening, ate some roast pork and poi, and watched the fire jugglers.

They also took me shopping, but not for clothes. I had enough of them, they said. Instead, they took me underwear shopping. They said I needed to get some that showed off my package. They got me some silk thongs, with a silk/ elastic pouch to hold my junk. The thong up my butt crack was uncomfortable; but when I compared how I filled out my shorts before, I could see the difference. So I bought six, in various colors.

The next morning, we went to the airport and picked up Collin and Spencer. We waited in baggage claim. They walked toward us feeling very good. It looked like they had had a few drinks on the plane. They both had leis around their neck. "Dude!" called Spencer, "Aloha!" I greeted them with a manly hug.