I should have said, “No.” I should not have left her on the beach and climbed into that ponga. Resignation in a nonchalant, “Mama said there’d be days like this” would only cheapen all the efforts put forth by evil men, devils, pongaleros, friends, wives, stupidity, boredom, love, hate, naivete, fate, and sin that went into this tale, that put me in chains at the end of that boat ride.
Taking that ponga to a remote surf spot leads to a kidnapping along with two freewheeling Grateful Dead followers. Chained together in a deserted stable somewhere in the desert outside of Cabo San Lucas. The Spirit of Death lurks in the shadows throughout.
To read the entire first chapter, click here.
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