Tom Simpson - Sink

“You know Bill. This place really did come out all right. It is beautiful. Ol’ Tankinato actually pulled it off.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Kevin. The grand opening isn’t over yet. I’m really worried that something terrible is going to happen. Everything is too perfect.”

“Look, you know I was just as worried as you were but we have had no reports of any problems with drainage, a sure sign that the earth is screwed up internally. We have had no cracks in the foundations or walls. Everything is peachy keen as far as we can tell geographically so, maybe it’s time we walked back and enjoyed the party.”

“I guess you’re right, Kevin. Something would have happened before now. I’ll try to relax for a change. We have one slight problem though. When we snuck out the back entrance of the lobby our wives did not see us leave alone. They probably think we snuck out with that fine looking Tiffany Royal for some very personal autographs.”

“Don’t flatter us Bill. She would look right through us if there were a drink on the table behind us. Our wives, I don’t think we have to worry about.”

The two men walked happily back toward the lobby, grinning in the warm breeze blowing in from the manmade lake. The past three years kept the two men busy monitoring the construction of the resort and nothing alarming showed up. The retainer by Hiruto Takinato paid to their company ensured the site be visited at least once every thirty days. They continued to do ultra sound testing and were not pleased with the results but, they could not convince Takinato that there was any danger, even though their testing showed pockets of hollow spots in various places around the resort. Takinato, always replied to their insistent warnings, the place had been stable for thousands of years and that he was doing a service to mankind by bringing such a lavish wonderful playground for the world to enjoy.

Hiruto Tankinato, the guest of honor, was feeling quite pleased with himself. Huge turnouts for his grand openings always pleased him, and this was the best yet. Most of the more than one thousand invited guests had already arrived and he had overheard bits and pieces of conversations about how great the resort was and how beautiful the lake and lagoon was. There were many comments about the sparkling waterfall and the lush green courtyard. Yes, this was definitely working. He took one final look around the overcrowded lobby and decided to get a breath of fresh air. Going out through the kitchen, he acknowledged the great chef Pierre Antone with a nod of his head and exited out the back door to the kitchen. He found himself in the lushly planted courtyard and began wandering toward one of the two story wings of the resort.

After passing the main buildings, he arrived at the opening leading to the dock and marina. The view of the beautiful blue lake was breathtaking from here and glancing in the other direction, he could see the top of the manmade mountain and the cascading waterfall. Glancing back to the lake he saw, what looked like a white wooden boat with a very large man and a small boy in it obviously enjoying a fishing trip. The construction kept Hiruto constantly on the run for the last three years and now he could finally take a break. Various problems arose from the various contractors and Takinato felt he was responsible for all the decisions, no matter how small. The boring of the tunnels for the pipes between the lake and the man-made mountain were put on hold while awaiting the arrival of Takinato’s new mole machine that was six months late on delivery. The earth machines to dig out the lake were held up by a strike up north at a plant that supplied the replacement blades on the front that moved the dirt.

A satisfied smile on his oriental face, Tankinato walked toward the northern two story wing, dreaming of the simple life he had as a boy. The pressures of business and the ruthless way he had to deal with his competitors took a lot out of a person, but on the plus side, he was filthy rich. Oh well, we all have to sacrifice something, he thought. He walked to the end of the building and heard a slight flutter above his head. Hiruto Tankinato looked up and saw the resort flag waving in the breeze, a proud heaviness filled his heart.

The silver serving tray, highly polished for the lavish event, sat on the white Formica counter immediately bordering the double doors leading to the formal dining room. Chef Pierre Antone imported from New York for the grand opening stood five feet back from his latest creation and softly whispered in his heavy French accent.

“Thees are especially manifico. I am indeed a geenius. I will be more famous then I already am. I am zee greatest.”

The hourderves were a pleasure to the even untrained eye and the chef was really competent at his job. He created a showpiece whenever the mood struck him and with the important people attending this event the mood really had struck him.

Staring at his creation his eyes caught a little piece of pastry one quarter inch off from its appointed position. He walked the several paces toward the counter and reached out gently to

rearrange his work of art. The tray moved about six inches toward the end of the counter and Chef Antone jumped as if bit by a poisonous snake.

“Theese is impossible. Do we have what the Americans call a poltergeist? Why is my tray moving?”

The look of utter astonishment on his face immediately turned to horror as the entire counter disappeared. He didn’t have time to even scream when the floor beneath him suddenly collapsed and Chef Pierre Antone suddenly exited the cooking field forever.

The Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle roared up to the double doors of the lobby and the rider and passenger quickly climbed off and the rider set the kickstand. The rider, totally obscured behind the heavily tinted face shield motioned to the passenger to reach in the sidesaddle of the bike and get his brush out. After the passenger unbuckled the leather strap, he reached in, pulled out a rosewood brush, and handed it to the rider. The rider then pulled off his helmet and the girls that were gathered outside the doors gave a loud yelp.

“It’s Brandon Miles!” They said in unison and started to form a small circle around the movie star.

Brandon started brushing his long brown hair and smiled at his fans with a face sans the beard he had sported until 9:00 a.m. this morning.

“How are you girls doing?” He questioned in his deep baritone which every girl in America would recognize. “I hope you’re doing just great. I know I am. Let’s go inside and get some refreshments. I’m really dry from the long ride over here.”

When Brandon headed for the doors, the girls parted like the Red Sea and followed in his wake like the pied piper. His best friend and bodyguard took up the rear and smiled at the girls that were already inside the lobby goggling at Brandon Miles.

After Brandon finished his third cup of punch, he looked around the lobby and spotted, his so called publicity stunt date, Tiffany Royal, approaching from the far side of the room.

“Brandon dear. How are you? Did you miss ol Tiffany since we finished filming? I certainly hope so.”

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek and put her right arm through the crook of his left.

“Tell me what you have been doing since we stopped filming. I know you have been keeping extremely busy like me. So what’s new with you?”

“Cut the bullshit Tiffany,” Brandon whispered in her ear. “You know as well as I do, our agents just wanted for us to be seen together to promote the movie, but I don’t have to like it.”