Choke Read Free

called Conch houses. Louie’s was on one of these little streets, a good-sized Victorian place that looked more like somebody’s home than a restaurant.
    “Mr. Carras hasn’t arrived yet,” the headwaiter said, “but the other member of your party is waiting at the bar outside. Just walk straight through.”
    Chuck emerged from the rear of the house onto a three-tiered deck filled with tables; the bar was on the lower level and nearly in the water. The sea lapped at the deck, and a rising moon illuminated the diners, mostly tourists, Chuck figured, come south for some sun.
    Victor waved at him from the bar, and Chuck slid onto an adjacent barstool. “Where are our hosts?” he asked.
    “Harry and Clare are not great at on-time performance,” Victor replied. “Buy you a drink?”
    “Thanks. I’ll have a vodka gimlet, straight up, very cold,” he said to the bartender.
    The two clinked glasses. “Welcome to paradise,” Victor said.
    “That’s what you said this morning. Is it really?”
    “Can be. Depends on your attitude.”
    “My attitude’s pretty good.”
    “Then you’ll like it. There are a lot of very strange people in this town,” Victor said. “It’s the end of the road, figuratively, for a lot of them. They couldn’t make it anywhere else, so they decided to come down here and not make it. Not making it is what folks do here.”
    “My attitude’s not
that
good,” Chuck said, laughing. “I gotta make a living.”
    “Found a place to live yet?”
    “I brought it with me.”
    “Trailer?”
    “I haven’t sunk that low; it’s a little motor yacht. I found a berth at Key West Bight.”
    “That’s where it’s all happening, boatwise,” Victor said. “Say, is the yellow Speedster yours?”
    “Yep. I restored the thing from scratch when I was living in Palm Beach.”
    “I guess Merk told you, this isn’t Palm Beach.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.”
    “Listen, Chuck, you and I don’t know each other very well, but I’ve got to ask you …”
    “Yep, I choked.”
    “Not about that.”
    “About what, then?”
    “About Palm Beach. We got a whiff of the rumor down here. Did you really get the club president’s wife pregnant?”
    Chuck shook his head.
    “I didn’t really believe it,” Victor said.
    “It was the chairman’s wife. And it was a hysterical pregnancy.”
    “A
hysterical
pregnancy?”
    “Hysterical, isn’t it? She actually missed two periods.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “Neither did her husband. Of course, by the time she was running on schedule again, I was out of the club.” Chuck looked out over the moonlit water. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
    “It is,” Victor agreed.
    Chuck watched as a boatload of people left a good-sized motor yacht anchored offshore and made their way to Louie’s aboard a Boston Whaler. The skipper tied up the boat, and a party of six scrambled ashore.
    Chuck glanced at his watch. “Our hosts are twenty minutes late,” he said. “You may have to buy me dinner.”
    “They’ll show,” Victor said. “Harry’s the type to keep his promises.”
    Another half hour passed before the Carrases turned up, and the whole restaurant turned to watch their entrance—or rather, Clare’s entrance. She came down the stairs in a white strapless dress that Nature held up, and for a brief moment, not a word was spoken within sight of her.
    Chuck stood up and watched her walk toward the bar. “Hello, Harry,” he said, shaking the husband’s hand first. “And Clare.”
    Her cool hand squeezed his again. He stopped himself from fantasizing.
    “Sorry we’re late,” Harry said, “but our table’s ready, so let’s sit down and have a drink there.”
    Chuck and Victor followed the couple to a well-placed table and ordered another round. Harry ordered scotch; Clare ordered a glass of sauvignon blanc.
    Harry raised his glass. “Welcome to Key West,” he said.
    “Thank you, Harry,” Chuck replied. “I think I’m going to like