Titanoboa Read Online Free Page B

house?”
    “I think you and your wife should have a talk, Mr. Donavan.”
    The driveway wasn’t large enough for the car to turn around , and Richard didn’t get out of the car. Once at his own car, Mark glanced back at the house. Richard watched him from the front porch.
    Mark couldn’t decide which of them he felt sorrier for.
     
     
    Mark spent t he rest of the day lounging on the beach. He soaked up as much sun as he could, as he did most days. So much that he was probably permanently brown now. Many of the fishermen had the same skin color, a dark brown that was almost orange. But the salt and wind of a lifetime on the ocean had also shaped their skin into a leathery texture.
    As evening fell, Mark sipped a beer and ate a light dinner of rice and curry chicken. Maybe a few hundred yards down the beach, the party kicked into gear. Some red and white banners were up declaring a welcome to the oil executive, and a live band was there, playing, of all things, reggae music. The crowd was growing larger, particularly at the two open bars on either side of the party.
    Mark debated going down. He was in the middle of a good book , a non-fiction piece about a squad of Marines stranded on a Japanese island during the Second World War. But the book could wait. Besides, reading put him to sleep after a short while, and he preferred doing it at night.
    He ambled up the beach, his gaze on the sea. The waves rolled and crackled against the shore, and a boat floated a few hundred yards out. The engine hummed along, and soon it melted into the background with the waves. He only noticed it again when it stopped and the boat seemed to idle. He couldn’t see anyone on it. The boat just drifted with the current. Nothing unusual, as many people stopped their boats out there to eat or relax or for more intimate activities. He ignored it and kept going.
    The party probably boasted about a thousand people already. Mark made his way through the crowd to the bar. “Jack and Coke, please,” he said to the bartender, a native islander in white clothing with a red bowtie. He gave him his drink, and Mark left him a tip in a large wine glass on the bar.
    Four years wasn’t a long time to live on this island, but in that time, Mark had gotten to know just about everybody. He saw members of the provincial council, the equivalent of state legislators back in the States; he saw commissioners, chiefs and senators. All of them were mingling and shaking hands, with large, fake smiles on their faces. No matter where you were in the world, politicians were all the same.
    Someone lit tiki torches as night fell. The moon ignited the ocean a dull white. Mark was standing by himself near the water staring at it, the crowds growing larger and drunker behind him.
    S omeone else had broken away from the crowds and was sitting in the sand. Riki Gilmore.
    Her arms rested on her knees , and a beer dangled from her fingers. She glued her gaze to the ocean, but in the light of the torches, Mark could see deep contemplation filled her eyes. She appeared so lonely and vulnerable that Mark wondered if, on top of her missing brother, something else had happened as well.
    “I never really saw the stars until I moved out here,” he said, walking up to her.
    She looked to him then back at the ocean. “It’s a beautiful place to live. I can see why my brother chose to come here every year.”
    “It’s right on that cusp that places like this eventually get to. Enough people know about it to have a good tourist economy, but it’s exclusive enough that it won’t become Disneyland. At least for a while.”
    “I like Disneyland,” she said sullenly. She blinked as though clearing away a thought and said, “I’m sorry for being angry with you today. It’s just…”
    “No apology necessary.” He sat down next to her.
    “My father was an alcoholic. He left us when we were young , and my mother slowly started withdrawing after that. I was the oldest, so I raised