Revolcadero private beach in Acapulco
Clarity Nice lifted her auburn hair to one side. She was napping peacefully, lying down in her ´shortstop brigade´ calico woven cotton cloth bikini made in India, decorated with several shells placed strategically by designers having discovered this positioning knowledge through years of anecdote and tradition. She turned on her side, feeling the hot sun and the burning white sand of Revolcadero private beach, which was not too far from Acapulco airport, or from Punta Diamante.
She adjusted with a single hand the borrowed collapsible parasail Rio Beach sunshade with valance, a sun-blocking rated item of "one hundred plus" protection for her trim, tan, good looking, firm, twenty five year old teleoperator body.
Satisfied with her current outlook of travel, content with simply living a pleasant lifestyle, reading a book on fashion trends now and then to keep her brain functioning properly ensuring she still knew how to add two and two, Clarity was simply happy, comfortable and cozy in that beach, spending time with her friends, before having to return to the City of Wellington, a Caribbean bound ocean cruise liner, where she worked as poolside sports entertainer performing synchronized swimming routines under their stage name, 'Sun on the Rocks.'
The captain was ensuring that all the evidence on Miss Tik and Cactus, the two crew members of the City of Wellington who had stolen a soft drink formula from a passenger, was presented clearly to the police, so that there was no doubt that she was innocent of that theft.
Clarity stopped thinking. It was a good time to doze, for dozing was an opportunity to daydream without thinking about work or making money, the only reason to work she thought, correctly indeed. In her dream, a handsome man took her in his strong arms, unstringing her bikini mesh deftly.
Then the thought returned and she woke up, startled. Money, they were running out of money because they weren´t working at the City of Wellington. She checked her purse, reassured at the touch of her credit card. She opened one eye and peeked at her friendly synchronized swimming smile and play quorum of four girls near her. A girl tripped on Clarity, before the Malibu teleoperator could get up.
"I´m sorry, I was looking for my earring." Clarity stood up and eyed the good looking debonnaire girl that had reached their shade. She was in her early twenties, showed long, hazelnut hair, hazel eyes, a nice, firm figure, and a flower patterned bikini.
"My name is Flower," she said, "Flower Parkwood."
"I´m Clarity Nice, nice to meet you. We´re here on vacation, me and my friends. We perform synchronized swimming choreographies on an ocean liner. We want to reach Olympic level with it."
"That´s great, I´m going with you." Clarity stared at her, half stunned by the naturality and openness of the answer from the girl, who was already peeking inside her purse.
"What do you mean going with us, you don´t even know us, we´ve just met," said Clarity.
"Well, you just told me what you do, that´s good for me. I´m an ethnographer in between assignments for a few months, I used to swim in my New Mexico pool, before I went to College to study ethnography. We´re a great fit."
Clarity saw Lanai get closer to Flower. They were stuck with this girl, she could sense it.
"What does an ethnographer do, exactly?" asked Lanai.
"We study the way cultures and human societies work, the way they interact within various historical and social strata. Why Gengis Khan became emperor and what his legacy was in Mongolia. Here´s my earring, I left it here yesterday, it´s from Mongolia, actually." She picked up a round earring and placed it on her right ear.
"Good, you´re welcome to come with us," said Clarity, "that makes six of us, we´re still missing one or two girls to complete a genuine Olympic synchronized swimming team."
Librarian Lanai, lifeguard Taimi Kendrick, well-to-do cheerleader from Pepperdine University Cynthia Stevenson, and Australian diver Jenna Likeway, sprang alight when they heard the siren of the City of Wellington horning five short blasts. Clarity swept the sand off her legs and looked at the ocean in the distance, beyond the beach packed with tourists coming to enjoy the last day of the week at the beach.
"I think it just means the boat is turning starboard," Flower said.
"This steward I enjoyed three weeks ago, Claybeam, told me that a boat needs to sound one big siren horn when leaving dock. But five, I don´t know, I´d have to do him again. What is starboard anyway?" asked Taimi.
"It means that it´s going to turn right."
"No, you are plain wrong," said Lanai, "according to rule 34 of navigation, five short blasts indicate an absence of sufficient definition of intention from an incoming vessel. That may mean danger, or simply insufficient action."
"It certainly means you can get out of the way if you don´t know where you´re going. Wow, you are well versed on navigation, Lanai," said Clarity.
"I spent a night with Claybeam as well, he told me," said Lanai. "Must have been a different night from you Taimi."
"It certainly was, we didn´t meet in his cabin, but we both know why his nickname is Claybeam."
"I didn´t ask really," objected Lanai."You didn´t try position fifty three, then."
Clarity reached for her phone, a nokia communicator retooled by a friend with extra applications such as a mexican peso currency converter, and called the cruise ship captain to know the real meaning of the siren sound. The captain explained to her that a passenger had left the City of Wellington in a rush, and the ocean liner was warning the offshore boat crossing its path to stay away from the large ship."An important banking agent is in the offshore boat, thank you, yes, we´ll ensure that we treat him well if we see him. Yes, we know, ten days, until officer Juarez clears the paperwork that clears me of theft charges, and we have to return to the ship if we want to eat lobster there again. Good bye captain."
Clarity turned off the phone and became distracted by the buzz of a low speed propeller plane above her making a stalling sound. She placed her phone in her purse and lifted her head to look at the bright red converted crop-duster pulling an advertising banner attached to a towline.
The plane made a short dive towards the beach area, leaving a suspicious white fume trail before regaining altitude and engine stamina. The aerial banner displaying a short message, caught the attention of Clarity: Lofty Bank, Cayman Islands, earn twenty percent per year and forget about work.
TO BE CONTINUED, HERE - THE CAYMAN ISLANDS AIR BANNER
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