Trey Scheinheilig snapped his manicured fingers as if to get the attention of a pet retriever. Robert noticed that he didn’t wear a wedding band and that Toni wasn’t nearby.
“What do you say we have a drink, catch up on old times?”
Robert considered the “old times” and wondered what Scheinheilig had in mind. Their thirty year-long relationship began badly in the early ‘70s. In the ‘80s, he was able to hook the brash young attorney up with some drams of cocaine and they shared a few chummy drug enhanced experiences. For the past ten years, the Congressman had periodically tossed him dog biscuits of financial opportunity in the form of wait-jobs for exclusive campaign parties. The gigs were frequent enough, and over-paid enough, to quell any storytelling urges Robert might feel.
“Maybe you didn’t notice, Trey. I am bar-tending not a-ttending the party tonight.”
“Ha! I’d like to talk to you before it gets too crowded.” The Congressman turned and nodded to his personal assistant standing few feet away, then hollered toward the other bartender, “Hey! I’m sneaking Robert away for a couple of minutes.” He strode off, motioning Robert to follow.
“My government calls,” Robert muttered, furrowing his brow. He trailed after Scheinheilig, who waited in the shadow of a jacaranda tree down the beach. People at the party hardly noticed.
“Listen Robert, let me get right to the point. I have a business proposition for you. It’ll take very little of your time, but could have a big payoff.”
“Are you lobbying me? I don’t have any money to contribute to your campaign and I sure as hell don’t have anything to gain from your re-election.”
“Funny! But, this isn’t about my campaign. It is a private business opportunity. I need a partner who knows this island like the back of his hand, who has access to the interior and a vehicle.”
“You want a tour? Call the Jeep EcoTour Company.”
“I don’t want a tour. I want you-to-help-me-to-help-you make some decent money.”
Robert took in the Congressman’s words and gave him a steady look. “So, tell me, Scheinheilig, why do you suddenly care about low income workers?”
The Congressman bristled. “Do you want this chance or not? There are a lot of my constituents here tonight who would appreciate a few minutes of my time,” the Congressman moved as if to return to the party.
Robert shifted his weight; smoothed his pewter hair; gazed at the sea and the yachts in the harbor and the strand of light glowing from the mainland. He slid his hands into his pockets; jingled the few coins; turned to take in the music, laughter, and dancing. At the bar, a deeply tanned woman in a sarong reached for a frothy drink. The gentle scent of night blooming jasmine rose to his nostrils. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly then returned his attention to Scheinheilig.
“What can I do for you Congressman?” he asked.
