Chapter 37
David went back inside his room at The Stammering Man Inn on Front Street. He grabbed a craft beer from the fridge and sat in the armchair. That no-caller-ID/no-reply-possible text message obviously came from Cindy. She must have another cell phone for such under-the-radar texting. Why, she’s a cute TV news reporter – of course she does. I think that she wants me to find the treasure. I think I can trust her. It’s now fourth down; I’m going for it.
At 8:01 there was a rapid knock on the door. He went over to the door. Sexy has arrived.
“What’s the password?” David asked playfully.
“Let me in!” Chantelle screamed, and then giggled.
David opened the door to find Chantelle getting drenched by the heavy downpour. Her hair was soaking wet. She quickly dashed into his room and got a towel from the bathroom.
“Just a little shower, my lass.” David smiled at her.
“Shower, my ass! I’m soaked!”
“Would you like for me to dry you off, madam?”
“That would be great, monsieur.”
David took the partially wet towel from her and laid it on the bed. He got a clean, dry towel from the bathroom.
He began to undress Chantelle as she sat on the bed. He took her black, long-sleeve, polyester fleece top off first. Then he reached behind her and undid her black 34 C bra. What a perfect pair!
Her skin was wet. David dried her off with the new towel as he felt a mountain growing under the equator. Chantelle noticed his budding crotch bulge, too. She unzipped David’s black jeans and pulled down his zebra-striped boxers. Where in the world did he get these boxers? He was already almost fully rigid.
David dried her back while she gave him a lovely lizard lick. Oh my, she’s tongue-tastic!
David finished up the drying of Chantelle’s body and began to caress her supple breasts. They felt so good in his hands. This girl’s got one helluva body. She feels like Lady Luck. Lady Good Lick-Luck.
Chantelle began to slide her mouth up and down his pecker faster and faster. She tasted his preliminary secretion. I better stop or he’s going to unload a pint of goo in my mouth. I don’t think that’s what either of us wants. I have already had my protein for today.
Chantelle stood up and pulled down her black velvet leggings and black thong. David knew what to do. The cunnilingus went on for eleven minutes. Her moans came from another world. This is how I want to die someday: ecstatic death by flickering tongue.
When his lower face was thoroughly marked by her fluids, he rolled a chocolate-flavored condom on his bronzed pickle and presented his wrapped sausage to Chantelle. She licked it a few times, then looked up at him and smiled.
Chantelle laid her svelte body back on the bed. David pumped her missionary style for fourteen minutes, changing his speeds and fondling her curves. When he was almost at orgasm, he pulled his member out, quickly rolled off the condom, and shot his opalescent load on Chantelle’s perfect ebony breasts and flat stomach. He felt so gratified. I now know what my boy has seen on the internet. / Should I have done that? She might now wonder about my internet habits.
“Oh, my God, I wasn’t expecting that pornographic finish,” Chantelle said, while looking at David’s translucent expellant rivuleting down her left side onto the wet white towel. I wonder if he is addicted to porn. It seems like every guy I meet is.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I got carried away in the hyper-sensual fantasy that is Chantelle.” Nice recovery, dude. / Hope she liked that remark.
“Hey, I like the sound of that,” she said as she rose up and toweled off his splooge. “I’ll have to use it in my novel, David.”
“I think we make a great team, Chantelle. A novel team.” A novel team? Well, he is essentially writing the male character for me.
“A great cream team?” Chantelle asked as she smiled at him and raised her eyebrows as she went to the bathroom to take a shower.
David just smiled fiendishly. She’s something else. I really struck gold with her. Now to find the elemental variety – time to unearth super-fine 79. [Gold’s atomic number]
While Chantelle was in the shower, David looked at the crenulations in the antique-white ceiling and started to think about how the night would go at 2393 Van Buren Street. Gosh, I hope the police don’t find it before we do. That would suck … forever. Nothing could be more deflating. I’d be haunted for life. Maybe even go mad and commit suicide like poor Susan.
Chantelle was rinsing her vulva when she had a startling thought. What if David kills me after we find the gold? I will no longer be needed at that point. He’ll find another girl to fuck. But, she won’t be able to please him like me. I saw his face; he was in heaven. He never had it so good. But, he’ll have over a million dollars! He’ll be able to buy some high-priced, hyper-nympho whore as his live-in. No, he’s not like that. But, he is a man. That damn zézette [French slang for penis] between their legs really affects their thinking.
Chantelle opened the bathroom door and began to do her hair. The mirror lights projected Chantelle’s silhouette onto the white wall.
“I see a seductive shadow on the wall,” David said in an overtly affected tone of voice. “A VERY seductive shadow.”
“You better be a good boy or the shadow will attack you,” Chantelle said in a playful, maniacal tone.
“What do you think our biggest liability is tonight, my sexy accomplice?” Accomplice? I guess I am at this point.
“You,” she boldly stated as she tried to suppress her giggles. What? Who?
“Me? No way. This boy is fully prepared to win the gold sweepstakes tonight and share it with his Haitian princess.” That was nice of him to include me. But, was it too nice? Too artificial sounding? Maybe I just need to stop thinking that he’s going to kill me. Just relax your mind, girl. Quiet those negative thoughts. Get a grip; this isn’t a ghastly crime novel. Or, is it?
About ten minutes later, the hair dryer shut off. The shadow on the wall got thinner. Chantelle had a simple request for David.
“David, could you bring me my clothes?”
“Sure, one minute,” David said as he began to gather her black garments. He brought them to the bathroom. Chantelle, with a white towel around her head, took them and smiled.
“How much do I owe you, bellboy?”
“You just lost a gram of gold,” David said as he walked back to the bed to lie down.
Chantelle then emerged from the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her shoulder-blade-length, dark-as-a-starless-night hair.
“You look pensive, David. We can do this! Don’t worry. We can succeed in this golden odyssey.” Odyssey? Yeah, that’s the right word for this.
“I know we can, too. I’m just wondering if we should do this in two phases.” Oh, no …
“What do you mean?” Chantelle was very curious to know what he was thinking, what his change of plan was.
“I was thinking that maybe we should dig out a passage under the privacy wall first. Then leave and return a few hours later to detect the gold and dig it up. What do you think?” He’s going to overthink this if I don’t stop him.
“I guess it has its advantages and disadvantages,” she said diplomatically while running her skinny fingers through her semi-coarse hair. Certainly more disadvantages. / Disadvantages? Huh?
“The way I see it, Chantelle, the big advantage is that we aren’t ever there for more than ten minutes. And, when we come back the second time for the gold, we can quickly slide under the privacy wall and get right to work, finding and extricating the gold in short order.” What did he just say?
“Extricating. I’ll make sure to use that word in my novel.”
“It’ll cost you another gram.”
They both laughed. I’ve got to keep him on-script. / Can I really totally trust her after what I found her doing earlier? Do I really have a choice now? Not really.
Chantelle leaned over towards his face and looked into his brown eyes. “Golden boy, the disadvantage is now you have to cross the front and back yards of the vacant house on Jackson Street four times instead of just twice.” That’s true. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. A lovely head.
“That’s a salient observation, Chantelle. And, yes, you can use that word in your first novel.”
Chantelle studied his now-serious face. She was growing to love it. I hope he wants me as much as I want him. I don’t want anyone else.
David continued. “We could go in your car the first time with just a short shovel and park on Southern Boulevard. Oh, wait, we don’t have a shovel.”
“That’s not a problem; my Super Wally World has shovels, and it’s open all night.”
“Hey, you want to go there now?” Absolutely.
“Fine by me. I’ll just wait in my car for you. I don’t like going in there when I’m off.” Will she drive off while I’m in the store? No, I don’t think so. And, even if she did, I could have the cops there faster than she could have it unearthed. But, would I really want to get the police involved? Hell no! And, she knows that. Well, life is about taking chances. Fingers crossed.
“Ok, I understand. Let’s go.”
<><><>
They didn’t talk on the sixteen-minute drive to the large-box, one-level, discount, department-and-grocery store. Halfway there, Chantelle switched on the radio to break the unnerving silence. The song Golden Years by David Bowie was playing. I’ll stick with you baby for a thousand years … Oh, yeah! / Song of the night. What were the chances of us hearing that song on this fateful night? Way too hard for me to calculate now. Sure hope that was a harbinger of things to come.
Chantelle parked her still-shiny-from-the-recent-car-wash-and-wax VW bug in front of the Monkey Junction Super Wally World at 10:13 PM. She told David where the shovels were located in the store. Then David got out. She rolled her window down as David walked around the front of the car.
“You wouldn’t leave me here, would you, ma chérie?” [‘my darling’ (feminine) in French] David asked, now not totally sure if she would bolt.
“No, I still need you.” She laughed.
David grinned at her, then walked into the store with his head down. What kind of answer was that? Am I going to get rolled later by her goons? Maybe even offed? No, I think she’s just playing. I hope.
He quickly found the shovel section. David decided to go with a short, narrow spade. It looked perfect for the task. He was back at her car in only nine minutes.
“Wow, that was quick!” Chantelle exclaimed as they began to leave the parking lot for US 421 North.
David gently placed the spade on the rear-seat floorboard, and then glanced at looking-straight-ahead Chantelle. “Yeah, I found a checkout that had just opened. I was first in line – no wait at all.”
“Just curious, who was the cashier?”
“Some Hispanic guy named Ricky.”
“Oh, I’ve already fucked him. Twice.” What the hell did she just say?!
David looked shocked, like he had seen the ghost of the old Baldhead Island Lighthouse. Is she just some out-of-control nymphomaniac? C’mon, David, don’t let the little head make the big decisions. Don’t be a fool. It’s not too late to abandon her ship. Don’t let lust make you stupid! You can’t blow this. It’s most likely the last chance to reclaim that gold.
Chantelle smiled and began laughing hysterically. “I got you again, David. What a face! Gosh, you’re too easy, loverboy.” I really don’t know what to think of this girl, but I’m going along for the ride – literally.
As they approached the intersection with Independence Boulevard, David proposed a new plan to Chantelle. “What if you drop me off and circle the block while I dig out a passage under the privacy wall. Better yet, I’ll do everything in one swoop: I’ll dig out a passage, detect the gold, dig it up, and bring it out. I bet I could do it all in under fifteen minutes. You would pick me up, and we’d be gone. You wouldn’t even have to get dirty.”
“Or, you leave with all the gold for yourself when I’m on the other side of the block,” Chantelle countered.
“No. Hell, no, Chantelle. I’m going to give you a gold fillet worth half a million dollars. And, besides, I would be on foot. I can’t carry forty pounds of gold, a shovel, and a metal detector two and a half miles back to the inn. The cops would pluck me off Front Street, if the thugs didn’t pick me off first.”
“You could call a taxi.”
“You have got to be kidding, Chantelle. I can’t hide it on my person.” My person?
“Then, on who else’s person?” What? She says the oddest things.
“Listen, my sly, super-sexy lady. The cabbie would demand a chunk of it or turn me in to the cops, or maybe even roll me for all of it. This much gold makes people crazy.”
“Well, you’re living proof of that, mon ami.”
“Ok, ha-ha-ha. Very funny, cool girl. Nice zinger. Really, though … I think it’s the best plan. It takes your point into consideration: only one entrance and one exit by one person. Minimal exposure. Much less chance of being spotted by a neighbor or passerby. C’mon, what do you say? All you have to do is slowly circle the block. You could even act as a scout, should the police show up on Van Buren Street.”
“Ok, I’ll play.” Thank God. / This had better work out right.
Chantelle turned her VW bug onto Southern Boulevard. It was 10:41 PM and the street was vacant. She slowly drove west towards the river.
“Maybe we should go by Dale’s house first to make sure the cops aren’t there,” Chantelle suggested. Smart. Very smart.
“Excellent idea, babe.” Babe? Wow, that was nice of him.
Chantelle made a right turn onto Van Buren. Her metallic-finished car slowly rolled by 2393. It was dark. No cars were there. There were no signs of any life anywhere. The privacy wall’s driveway gate had been closed. Yellow police tape rippled in the humid, at times gusty, southwest breeze. Cindy’s right; they’ll be digging up that back yard tomorrow. / We gotta do this very soon. It really is now – or regret forever.
“Perfect. No one’s there.” David felt a bolt of confidence go through his spine. Maybe, just maybe, Lady Luck stays with me tonight. Now, please don’t wander off.
“Listen, after I drop you off, I’ll comb the other neighborhood streets so I don’t become that car that just keeps going around the block.” Great idea. She’s quite keen. Hopefully, I will be as well when I execute our gold-extracting operation.
“You’re so smart, Chantelle. Where would I be without you tonight?” He has to ask?
“You’d probably already be in jail,” Chantelle said as she turned right onto Central Boulevard. Quite possibly.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” David let out a short chuckle.
They passed a white guy in jeans sporting an ironic t-shirt, walking his dog, a beagle-feist mix. Then Chantelle turned the wheel to the right again. They were now on Jackson Street, closing in on the vacant-house drop-off point. Almost there, almost showtime. / Gosh, I hope that he can stay on-plan.
A cyclist with an orange shirt zoomed past them. Wow, he’s really hitting it. Does he have the gold in his backpack? Chantelle was amused by the thought. That guy again? There must be a large cycling group down here, and orange must be their jersey color. David’s rationalization settled his mounting anxiety. Well, just a little.
“Well, we’re here,” Chantelle announced as she turned the engine off. I sure hope that this goes as planned. I don’t want to go to jail. I could easily be deported. But, the reward is worth the risk. I’m not backing out. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. / Time to execute the plan. Toes crossed. Well, almost crossed. Let’s not fuck this up. Must stay smart.
David glanced at the vacant house. It was totally dark, looking like the power had been cut off. It’s probably a rental. Looks like the last tenants left several weeks ago.
He then glanced at a flickering streetlamp thirty feet down the street. The ballast was humming. The lamp’s partially dislodged plastic shield was rocking in the wind. Well, at least it’s not on top of us.
David grabbed the metal detector and shovel. He was decked out in black – nothing but black. He pulled the black ski mask over his head and aligned the eyeholes, and then reduced them to slits. What if a cop drives by? One look at me and they would definitely search me and the car. Should Chantelle be the one to do this? Her dark skin would be less visible. No, just man up and do it. Yeah, I’ll be ok. Well, it’s time to go for the gold. Please be easy to locate, Au. Be an easy find. Just this once, be easy.
“Loop back every five minutes, after the first fifteen minutes, Chantelle.” +15, +5, +5 …
“You got it, captain. Are you ready to go?” I guess so.
“I’m out.” David quickly disembarked with the shovel and metal detector in hand. He scanned the street. All clear. He then looked at the nearby houses’ windows. Only one window was lit that could see him and the dark curtain was fully drawn. We’re good to go, boy. Let’s do this … successfully.
He motioned for Chantelle to roll and she drove off. David stealthily walked along the vine-enmeshed, chain-link fence that ran down the northern property line to the back privacy wall. Don’t think anyone saw me. Think I’m still in the clear.
The surface of the sand was like a soggy pie crust; the grains had coalesced from the recent thunderstorm. He grabbed the spade and was amazed at how fast he was able to create a fourteen-inch gap under the privacy wall. You sure can’t dig a hole this fast in the piedmont’s red clay.
He soon saw the back of the metal shed just four feet away. Dale, I bet you buried it right here last Friday morning. I know you did, pal.
David pushed the shovel and metal detector through the opening, and then slithered under the privacy wall. He looked at the back of the metal shed and privacy wall corner sections. Perfect! I’m safely in the vault. Now to find that golden stash.
The first-quarter moon provided just enough light, though lingering clouds momentarily eclipsed it from time to time. He switched on the metal detector, immediately killing the audio beep. In a crouched position, he passed the detector’s search coil over the middle of the small thirty-square-foot area between the back of the shed and the privacy wall. The red LED light lit up just seven seconds later. The metal detector’s screen told him that there was a large, non-iron object twenty-eight to thirty-four inches below the surface. Eureka! That’s has to be it!