The Powers That Be

It had been a long and prosperous day for each of them. The late afternoon sun was now low on the horizon reflecting off the water in flashing jolts of blinding white sparkles. The four men sat together at a round table on the fantail of the great yacht watching the sun set. The four men had their legs crossed each in the same way. They wore light colored slacks of various shades of tan, all with sharp, perfect creases. They looked relaxed and sleepy-eyed and in need of something to nibble on.

The dark man, South, was describing the ocean as being a brilliant Turquoise mixed with silver speckles. East said it was the color of Jade with a touch of white gold like the eyes of a dragon. West said, “It's straight up Benjamin fuckin' Franklin green!” and they all four laughed in one great roar and then became quiet when Fernando arrived. He carried a pitcher of margaritas and thick glass goblets on a black tray.

They watched as Fernando set their drinks down and poured them each a glass. The pitcher had orange wedges and flower blossoms floating along the brim.

“Muchas gracias, Fernando,” the one they called West said.

“De nada,” Fernando said. He was dressed in a crisp short-sleeved, white tunic and black pants. His pretty wife appeared behind him.dressed in a yellow flowered sarong. She put a platter of assorted steaming seafood in the middle of the table. West thanked her too, but in a different way, with a different voice. She was just turning to walk away when her son ran up. She caught him by the shoulders and turned him. She walked him back to the salon from where he had come.

“My son, Julio,” Fernando explained. He watched the men watching his wife's backside as she ushered their boy inside.

“Bonita,” North said.

“Bonito!” South corrected.

“Ya,” North said, “Bonito!” and they all laughed, even Fernando.

They were busy with the platter of fish when the little boy Julio arrived back. It was now only the four men on deck, for Fernando and his wife were in the galley preparing a feast.

“Hola!” the young boy said.

“Hola,” the four men said at once. The sun was now down and the pitcher of margaritas was nearly gone, and they all four seemed pleased to see the kid as they had grown a bit tired of each other. They were each glad these little “get-togethers” only happened once a year when they divided up their profits. This kept wars down, which kept exposure down, which kept costs down, which kept the money coming in.

“What do you men do for a living?” Julio asked.

“We are in the import-export business, I guess you could say, kid.”

The four men smiled at the little tyke.

“Did you know that this is Day de International Peace?” Julio asked. He had great big dark eyes and was missing a front tooth.

“International Piece Day?” the man from the West said. “Oh yeah, kid, we were just piecing it all out!” And with that the four men laughed long and hard.

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