elegance—little more than a two dozen large circular wooden tables covered with plain white cotton tablecloths on which was laid out bone china place settings and silver cutlery. In front of the tables was a small dance floor facing a shell shaped stage on which a three piece ensemble quietly play an obscure instrumental number.
A crowd of a hundred or more well-dressed guests milled about on the dance floor as waiters circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Most of the ladies wore slinky dresses and small hats, while the gentlemen favored white dinner jackets. Char felt conspicuously out of place in his simple jacket and tie, but having the sexy Carla on his arm seemed to somehow compensate.
“Hey Char,” someone called out. Tommy stood against a mobile bar, set up along the beach wall, a drink in one hand and cigarette in the other.
Here we go , thought Char. Tommy was already well lubricated—but not yet drunk. He was drinking bourbon—the bar had a ready supply of Basil Hayden, a high end brand that Tommy favored—when he could afford it. Char talked to him for a few minutes, while Carla excused herself and slipped away. She was no fan of the mechanic, especially when he was drinking. They had both attended several barbeques at Char’s trailer and Tommy normally ended the evening so drunk he would pass out on Char’s couch.
Char ordered a Budweiser from an over officious bartender in a tight white jacket and black bow tie. It was delivered in a tall v-shaped Pilsner glass, accompanied by a ramekin filled with warm
mixed nuts. Char slapped a dollar on the bar, retrieved the glass and took a sip. It was then that he noticed the glass was embossed with the name Star of Tampa , accompanied by a five point star. This guy doesn’t miss a trick .
A short time later, an announcement was made that dinner would be served. Tommy sat on Char’s left and Carla on his right. Char felt like a referee. After putting in a day at the boatyard, helping Tommy pull an engine so it could be rebuilt, Char was ravenous and the food was abundant and sumptuous—lobster bisque and Cesar salad followed by a main course of baked spiny lobster tail and medallions of beef with au gratin potatoes. As a desert of chocolate mousse was served, a tall tan and silver haired man walked up on the stage. Char took him to be a few inches more than six feet and probably in his early fifties, but the way he strode up the stairs to the stage belied a much younger man.
“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, he began. Now that you have had your dinner, the time is at hand to pay the piper.”
The crowd emitted a low chuckle. Char picked up the accent and nodded. The Aussie had finally made an appearance.
“I am Simon Block and I would like to discuss the launch of a dream of mine. The dream of simple elegance, of entertainment in luxurious surroundings and cuisine that we hope will be better than what you consumed this evening. Invest in my project and reap a twenty percent return on investment, free room and board when we sail and a stake at our gambling tables.”
The crowd applauded politely but, it was mostly static to Char—he had no money to invest and figured that the only thing he needed to do to pay for dinner was introduce himself to the guy and usher Tommy out of the hotel while he was still mobile.
At the conclusion of Block’s speech, two waiters came forward carrying a table on which sat a large lump covered by a tablecloth.
“Forgive the theatrics, but I thought this moment required an unveiling,” he said as he hopped off of the stage and grabbed the edge of the tablecloth as one of the waiters did the same, unveiling a five foot long model of a ship.
“Allow me to present the Star of Tampa!” he said with a flourish of his right arm in the direction of the model. At Simon’s urging the crowd got up and slowly approached the model as he went
on to describe the modifications that had made to the
A crowd of a hundred or more well-dressed guests milled about on the dance floor as waiters circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Most of the ladies wore slinky dresses and small hats, while the gentlemen favored white dinner jackets. Char felt conspicuously out of place in his simple jacket and tie, but having the sexy Carla on his arm seemed to somehow compensate.
“Hey Char,” someone called out. Tommy stood against a mobile bar, set up along the beach wall, a drink in one hand and cigarette in the other.
Here we go , thought Char. Tommy was already well lubricated—but not yet drunk. He was drinking bourbon—the bar had a ready supply of Basil Hayden, a high end brand that Tommy favored—when he could afford it. Char talked to him for a few minutes, while Carla excused herself and slipped away. She was no fan of the mechanic, especially when he was drinking. They had both attended several barbeques at Char’s trailer and Tommy normally ended the evening so drunk he would pass out on Char’s couch.
Char ordered a Budweiser from an over officious bartender in a tight white jacket and black bow tie. It was delivered in a tall v-shaped Pilsner glass, accompanied by a ramekin filled with warm
mixed nuts. Char slapped a dollar on the bar, retrieved the glass and took a sip. It was then that he noticed the glass was embossed with the name Star of Tampa , accompanied by a five point star. This guy doesn’t miss a trick .
A short time later, an announcement was made that dinner would be served. Tommy sat on Char’s left and Carla on his right. Char felt like a referee. After putting in a day at the boatyard, helping Tommy pull an engine so it could be rebuilt, Char was ravenous and the food was abundant and sumptuous—lobster bisque and Cesar salad followed by a main course of baked spiny lobster tail and medallions of beef with au gratin potatoes. As a desert of chocolate mousse was served, a tall tan and silver haired man walked up on the stage. Char took him to be a few inches more than six feet and probably in his early fifties, but the way he strode up the stairs to the stage belied a much younger man.
“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, he began. Now that you have had your dinner, the time is at hand to pay the piper.”
The crowd emitted a low chuckle. Char picked up the accent and nodded. The Aussie had finally made an appearance.
“I am Simon Block and I would like to discuss the launch of a dream of mine. The dream of simple elegance, of entertainment in luxurious surroundings and cuisine that we hope will be better than what you consumed this evening. Invest in my project and reap a twenty percent return on investment, free room and board when we sail and a stake at our gambling tables.”
The crowd applauded politely but, it was mostly static to Char—he had no money to invest and figured that the only thing he needed to do to pay for dinner was introduce himself to the guy and usher Tommy out of the hotel while he was still mobile.
At the conclusion of Block’s speech, two waiters came forward carrying a table on which sat a large lump covered by a tablecloth.
“Forgive the theatrics, but I thought this moment required an unveiling,” he said as he hopped off of the stage and grabbed the edge of the tablecloth as one of the waiters did the same, unveiling a five foot long model of a ship.
“Allow me to present the Star of Tampa!” he said with a flourish of his right arm in the direction of the model. At Simon’s urging the crowd got up and slowly approached the model as he went
on to describe the modifications that had made to the
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