Bon Bini Beach: A Thriller Read online

  Leandro pressed down on his horn again.

  “This is a great restaurant,” he explained. “And not expensive. The owner is a cousin of mine. Very good food.”

  A heavyset woman in a flowered dress came out through the beaded curtain. When she saw the taxi she began to smile. Behind her were two small children. One of them hung on to her leg.

  “Leandro!” she called out cheerfully.

  The two young women in the backseat looked at each other.

  “I don’t think that this is exactly what we’re looking for,” Lilian said, unsure.

  Dominique grabbed the back of the seat in front of her and pulled herself forward and gave Leandro an intense look in his rearview mirror. “No, way, just bring us to a restaurant in the tourist area.”

  “But Millie has very good food!”

  “Now!” Dominique said, determined. “Or we will get out of this cab right now without paying you a dime!”

  The large lady on the sidewalk placed her hands on her hips. The smile disappeared from her face instantly once she realized that her potential guests weren’t planning on getting out of the car.

  Leandro’s eyes darted back and forth between his cousin and his customers.

  When he saw Dominique begin to open the car door, he called out: “Okay, okay! We’re leaving!”

  He made an apologetic gesture to his cousin and drove off, nearly hitting an old man on a bicycle. He maneuvered through the streets of Oranjestad at high speed.

  It took a while before Dominique and Lilian began to recognize the surroundings. Relieved, they noticed that Leandro was taking them in the direction of the boulevard but through neighborhoods they had never seen before.

  “Just drop us off over here!” Dominique called out, when she saw a little square with a few restaurants, bars, and terraces. Unwillingly, Leandro parked the car on the side of the road. They paid him and only gave him a small tip. He glared at them but didn’t say a word. Instead, he handed them a business card. “Here you go, in case you need a taxi again.”

  “Thanks,” Lilian said, taking the card and immediately putting it away.

  They exited the taxi and headed to the nearest terrace. “First, let’s have a drink,” Dominique decided. “I’m dying of thirst.”

  “You’re probably dehydrated from yesterday, so take it easy today.”

  Dominique looked at her from the side. “Yes, Mom!”

  Her comment was answered by a shove to her shoulder. A few boys motioned for them to come and sit with them, but the two girls pretended not to notice and chose a nice table in the shade.

  20

  They ate Mexican food that evening and remained in deep conversation long after their plates had been cleared. Dominique ordered multiple rounds of coffee with Amaretto.

  Two girls were seated at the table next to them, communicating with the waiter in broken English. Once they were alone, they began speaking French rather loud and fast to each other. Apparently, they assumed that no one in the restaurant could understand them. But French was practically Lilian’s second language. She had majored in French, and all those vacations with her parents in France had made her fluent. She was even considering attending an exchange-student program at a French university. When the girls began to speak, she couldn’t help casually listening in. Because it quickly became clear to her that the girls were having quite a candid conversation, she began to smile.

  “Why are you smiling?” Dominique asked curiously.

  With a quick hand gesture, Lilian made it clear that Dominique shouldn’t focus so much on her. “Can you understand the two girls behind us?” she asked.

  Dominique tilted her head, pretending to look out the window through the wine rack, and listened carefully. After a while she shook her head. “I can make out a few words here and there, but they’re talking way too fast and in some dialect that I don’t understand.”

  “I think they are from the south of France,” Lilian observed. “I can follow them rather well. One of them took a vacation in the Caribbean last year as well, but in Haiti.”

  When they heard the name of the island mentioned, one of the two girls paused and looked their way for a second. They spoke with very expressive gestures and hand movements. The youngest of the two, who had a very childlike, smooth, but pretty face, kept picking at her hair with her long nails, while she listened to her older friend. The other girl had pimples on her cheeks, which made her cheekbones stand out more.

  “She became pregnant during that vacation,” Lilian translated. “But she only found out that she was once she was back at home. She never told her parents, but …”

  “But?” Dominique said the moment her friend fell quiet.

  Lilian locked her gaze tightly on her coffee cup. “She terminated the pregnancy,” she said, downing the entire glass of Amaretto with one swift gulp.

  “That’s too bad,” Dominique said, slightly bored. “Terrible for her. What else?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” Lilian said, gloomy.

  Dominique looked at her friend for a moment. She had known her long enough to know that sometimes she had these mood swings. Her mood could change in an instant, and it was of no use to try and talk her out of it or to reason with her. So she just nodded. “Come on, Lil, don’t let it get you down! Let me finish my coffee, then I’ll ask them for the bill. Where shall we go next?”

  “Doesn’t really matter to me,” Lilian answered. “But I suggest we don’t go to the same bar as yesterday.”

  “I kind of wanted to go and look for those Americans,” Dominique said carefully.

  Lilian gave her a cold look. “Do we have to do that tonight? If we go back to that same bar, they might make you clean up your vomit.”

  Dominique remained quiet and motioned to the waiter.

  21

  Once she was back outside, Dominique decided not to let her friend’s bad mood bring her down. She did a few dance moves and triumphantly put her fists in the air, shouting, “Hello, Aruba! We’re gonna party tonight!”

  Despite her somber mood, Lilian had to smile. “You know you’re completely nuts right?” she said, chuckling.

  “Absolutely!” Dominique replied cheerfully. “I’m totally crazy and after tonight all of Aruba will know it too!”

  Cheered up, they walked through a small side street off the boulevard. On one of the terraces, a group of younger guys were wearing orange soccer jerseys bearing the word HOLLAND in large letters. Without missing a beat, Dominique pulled up a chair and sat down with them.

  Lilian, who was a few steps behind her, saw no other option but to follow her lead.

  The four boys at the table looked at them with great surprise.

  “Whoa!” one of them called out. His hat was also orange, and his blond curls spilled out from under it. “It’s raining angels here!”

  “Thirsty angels,” Dominique added and gestured to the pitcher of beer in the middle of the table. “Why don’t you offer us a beer?”

  One of the other boys, who had dark hair and wore very fashionable sunglasses, immediately pushed his full glass toward her and called out to the staff for a few extra glasses and a fresh pitcher of beer. “My name is Niels,” he said. “What are your names?”

  Dominique and Lilian introduced themselves.

  The boy with the blond curls filled up his glass and handed it to Lilian and said, “I’m Gerben. We’re from Zwolle, and you?”

  Before Lilian could say anything, Dominique had answered already. “Amsterdam.” She looked at the two boys who had not introduced themselves yet and asked, “And who are you?”

  “Anton,” said the boy in glasses, who was slouched down in his seat. “Better known as the Babe Master.”

  His friends burst into derisive laughter.

  “And I am Rodney,” the slightly heavyset boy added to the round of introductions. He wore an orange cap that had fake black dreads attached to it.

  Dominique took a big sip of beer and looked around a
nd grinned. “Let me guess, you guys like soccer?”

  “Yeah, no doubt about that!” the Babe Master called out. “All of us went to a game at the Arena this spring, it’s an awesome stadium.”

  “If you like concrete,” Dominique answered sarcastically.

  The boys laughed out loud.

  “What are you all majoring in?” Dominique wanted to know.

  “We are the so-called working youth,” Niels explained. “Only Rodney is working on getting his high school diploma. But it won’t be long before he will have to admit he is simply too lazy for it.”

  The others laughed. Rodney did not.

  “What about you two?” Niels asked.

  “European studies,” Dominique said. “And Lilian: art history.”

  Niels whistled in admiration.

  A pretty young girl in a tight black-and-white outfit placed another pitcher on the table. The boys looked at her short skirt. Niels and the Babe Master exchanged a quick glance and suggestively raised their eyebrows.

  Gerben waited for the girl to leave and asked Lilian, “So, are you always this quiet?”

  She gave him a very aloof look. “Normally, I chat up a storm, but for that to happen the company has to be a little bit more stimulating.”

  The other boys howled, which caused everyone on the terrace to look their way. Much to the delight of the Babe Master, who held up both hands with an extended middle finger and yelled, “Bitchy—I like it!”

  “So, you prefer more intellectual conversations?” Gerben persisted.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Not always. But all this banter about soccer by a few idiots wearing orange is the other extreme.”

  The other boys howled again.

  Dominique looked at her friend. Obviously amused, but also a little surprised. She didn’t know her friend to be like that.

  “Well, what would you like to talk about then?” Gerben continued.

  Lilian looked around, bored. “Pretty much anything but soccer.”

  Gerben sat up straight and looked at his friends. “Oh, don’t worry, I know plenty of other things to talk about.” He took a sip of his beer. “Did you know, for example, that people here go missing regularly? Especially girls.”

  Lilian let out a tired sigh. “Please don’t start talking about Joran, because I think we all know that story by now.”

  “No, seriously. Sometimes beautiful young girls go missing for an entire night,” Anton said, as he placed his glasses on the tip of his nose, so his shimmering eyes peered out over them. “Without fail all of these missing young ladies are eventually all found the next morning in the hotel room of … the Babe Master!”

  That got the laugh he was looking for. The guys were starting to enjoy it.

  “Recently, a Dutch couple went missing in the US,” Niels explained. “They were hitchhiking along what used to be the famous Route 66. Suddenly their families didn’t hear a word from them anymore. They were found later. Someone had rubbed their naked bodies with honey and tied them together on top of an ant hill.”

  “Wow,” Rodney responded, visibly impressed. “And?”

  “Dead as a doornail, of course,” Niels answered, making a choking gesture.

  “Great stories guys.” Dominique was no longer able to respond seriously to these prepubescent tales. “So, are you having a good time here in Aruba?”

  “Hell yes!” Gerben stretched out his arms and looked around blissfully. “This place is totally awesome!”

  “Although, I must say, we haven’t seen much of it yet,” Niels admitted. “The beach and Oranjestad—that’s been about it.”

  “Don’t forget the airport,” Rodney added.

  “But everything is so damn expensive here!” the Babe Master said with a very disgruntled face. “I can party for a week in Holland on what I spend here in one night.”

  “Oh, and here we go again.” Dominique gave her friend a devilish smile. “What did I tell you, Lil? Dutch people always have to whine and complain about money.”

  “We’re not complaining!” Niels said defensively.

  “No, didn’t I just say how great it was here?” Gerben said in support.

  But the girls were already on their feet.

  “Sorry, boys, but there is only so much orange a girl can take in one night!” Lilian said mockingly.

  Dominique waited a moment for the howling to die down and said, “Anyway, thanks for the beer, and I hope you all have a great vacation here!”

  While the two girls walked away, the Babe Master called after them, “Hey, wait a minute, I didn’t give you my room number yet!”

  22

  Darkness had started to envelop the city when they headed to the beach from the boulevard. All the beach tents were still open, and everywhere you looked there were happy, smiling people were drinking and talking.

  “I think the percentage of happiness is way higher on an island like this than it is in Holland,” Dominique said, deep in thought.

  “Are you getting philosophical on me?” Lilian laughed. “Well, with those types of things, it depends on how you look at it. Sure, there are tons of people here who are on vacation: they’re all relaxed and comfortable. But for every tourist you see doing absolutely nothing, there is someone out there working their fingers to the bone to ensure that all those restaurants, bars, hotels, and beach tents run smoothly. I’m not so sure how happy they are?”

  “And you’re asking me if I’m getting philosophical? Well, I’d rather work my fingers to the bone in a hotel on Aruba than in a hotel in Holland. Here, all you have to do after work is walk outside and you’re on the beach!”

  “The same goes for the tourists,” Lilian argued. “At least here, you always have perfect weather—in Holland you always have to wait and see.”

  “Exactly. One of the many reasons I am so very happy that we are staying here for the next few weeks.”

  Lilian smiled. “It will take one hell of a handsome guy to peel us away from here.”

  There was no shortage of handsome guys on the beach. At the cabana they were passing, most of the guys had already put their shirts back on, except one guy with medium-long hair, a streamlined pair of sunglasses, and a very chiseled six-pack.

  “Hi, ladies!” he called out to them in English and offered them something to drink.

  Dominique hesitated for a moment, because she only saw men at the bar.

  But Lilian quickly answered, “Sure! What’s on the menu?”

  A moment later, they both held cocktails in globe-shaped drinking glasses with paper umbrellas and orange slices on their rims.

  Strong stuff, Dominique realized, when she took a sip. But because Lilian didn’t even blink, she didn’t let on. She did promise herself to take it easy, so as not to repeat last night.

  The guy with the six-pack introduced himself as Julian and a few other guys joined them. When Dominique put her glass on the bar for a moment, the handsome dark bartender winked at her and gave her a well-rehearsed smile. He pointed to her glass and grimaced, to let her know he had poured her a strong drink.

  Julian was from Knoxville, Tennessee, and had decided to go on a holiday after his relationship with his girlfriend ended, something he explained within minutes after they were introduced.

  He didn’t waste a second and boldly asked his two new guests whether they were single and available.

  “Our boyfriends are on their way,” Lilian said, while looking back at the boulevard. “Maybe they would like a drink from you, too.”

  The guy looked at her inquisitively.

  Lilian pointed to his stomach muscles. “Nice six-pack. You must work out a lot.”

  “Every single day,” he answered proudly. Then he followed up with a complete rundown of his entire daily workout routine.

  When he realized he was boring them to pieces, he quickly changed the subject. “There’s a great beach party later,” he said, pointing south. “I know a lot my friends are going. Maybe you guys want to join us?
”

  Lilian raised her eyebrows in consideration. “Why not?

  “One moment.”

  She walked over to Dominique, who was in a conversation with two English-speaking men.

  In Dutch, she said to her, “The guy with the six-pack invited us to a beach party. I think it’s a little farther down the beach. You want to go?”

  “Why not?”

  “Yeah, that what I said to him, too.” Lilian turned around and yelled at Julian, “Beach party it is!”

  Two cocktails later, the girls were strolling arm in arm across the loose white sand, surrounded by men, most of whose names they didn’t even know. They passed a variety of bars and beach barbecues before they landed in a place where a few dozen people of varying ages were all gathered around a deep pit with a fire burning, some twenty meters from the surf.

  There were beer bottles, which were kept cool in buckets, and crates of wine and hard liquor. People were roasting marshmallows on sticks over the fire. There were small bags of peanuts and snacks here and there. Music came from a boom box.

  A bearded man with a bandanna on his head came to ask them for a financial contribution to the beach party, but Julian took care of it quickly. “They’re here with me,” he said to the man, who quickly stuck the money he received in the pocket of his cutoffs.

  To ensure that Julian understood that even though he had paid their way into the party, he shouldn’t assume anything, the girls quickly mingled with the other partygoers. At first Julian followed them around, but when Dominique and Lilian sat down in the middle of a small group of people at the campfire, he got the hint. Clearly disappointed, he walked to the crates with the drinks and poured himself a strong drink.

  An older man, who had tied his long gray hair into a ponytail, turned off the boom box and, in a surprisingly loud voice, began singing Bob Dylan songs, accompanying himself on guitar.