Carats and Coconuts by D. D. Scott

Mother Nature’s magic.
    Thank the powers that be, I’d seen the
birds and allowed their magnificent flights to sooth the restless
energy building up inside me. By focusing on the catchy soundtrack
of the film and the flight of the real birds it celebrated, I had a
slightly better chance of keeping my nerves in check.
    It wasn’t till my very own prince
started singing along with me that I was finally able to overcome
my fears.
    Who knew the guy could
sing?!
    And wow! Talk about a
voice!
    He could easily have been mistaken for
Josh Groban, and I’m not kidding. I could get used to a lifetime of
crooning coming from this royal hottie.
    “ Have you considered how
ironic it is that we’re venturing into the world of highly-prized
gems, the same stones the ancient Egyptians as early as 2000 B.C.E.
thought were symbols of life and fertility, and we’re tracking them
to save our
lives?” Roman asked, as he drove us to within a few hundred feet of
our destination, the Sol Larga Reservation.
    “ Yes. As a matter of fact, I
have. But thanks for saying something to totally boost my
confidence,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m tellin’ ya, between you
and Pliny the Elder, my nerves are tied tighter than a bunch of
sailors’ knots.”
    “ What’s Pliny got to do with
it?” Roman asked, that ornery grin I loved so much back in
place.
    “ Pliny thought the greens
and blues of beryl gems were soothing, calming, and had healing
powers. So, you’re both full of shit.”
    “ Hey, at least I always tell
you the truth.”
    “ Well…in this case, the
truth sucks, so you’re still at the top of my Shit List. How ‘bout
you just keep singing?”
    “ Does that mean you think I
can carry a tune?”
    “ Not bad. Not bad at all.
Let’s just hope we can keep a song in our hearts and then harness
some of those healing powers after we begin this
mission.”
    “ Which would be?”
    “ Watch and learn, my dear,”
I said, kinda’ tickled that for once I knew what to do and he
didn’t.
    We got out of our Jeep and waited for
the two behind us to take the spots in the clearing next to
ours.
    R pulled in with Vitto and Granny
V.
    Next came Grams and
Company.
    “ I still can’t believe you
want her in on this,” I said to Roman, who was totally hidden by
the dust flying everywhere caused by Grams literally sliding her
Jeep in sideways next to R’s.
    “ Now, that woman can drive,”
R said, elbowing Roman in the side.
    With all the whooping and cheering
goin’ on in Grams’ vehicle, you’d think she, Bunny and Beefcakes
were already enjoying Rio’s Carnival. In no way, shape or form did
they appear ready for the seriousness of what we were about to
do.
    And speaking of shape and form, just
looking at the three of them approaching us was enough to make you
wish you could climb a tree and watch all this from way above the
rainforest floor.
    There was Grams looking very Maxine
again, eat shit grin and all.
    Then there was the ultra-sophisticated
Bunny, who wore large enough jewels she could be in some
Smithsonian coffee table book filled with photos of the museum’s
gem collection and captions reading “This piece was a gift of Bunny
Winston”. They were large enough gems that wearing them could also
get her killed in this forest.
    And yes, I shit you not, her last name
was Winston, although, I don’t think she was related to
Harry.
    Oh, and let’s not forget Antonio
Banderas’ lost twin, Beefcakes, who smiled a lot and moved like a
human wall.
    Well, one thing was for certain, I
thought to myself, there’s no way in hell we looked like a bunch of
wildcat miners, so we shouldn’t raise suspicion with the Brazilian
authorities on that front.
    But speaking of a front, a nice line
of Brazilian federal police made their way toward us.
    They were not one of my favorite
greeting committees.

Chapter
Three
     
    I n
the last few years, more than a billion dollars – that’s right, I
said billion – in diamonds and other