Hiding in the Glades (Fiction)

By Gonz Blinko

“Coming into Miami, F L A,
Hitchhiked his way across the USA,
Plugged his eyebrows on the way,
Shaved his legs…

“Take a walk on the wild side…

“And the colored girls go,
“Do Da Do Da do,” I sang as Caroline, my phone sex chick and I got off the plane from the frozen north.  I didn’t quite know why Blind Christian wanted me in Florida when all of the hipsters and cool folks went to the LAX Marriott but skipping CSUN is no problem for me and maybe we can get some fishing in.

All I knew was that Samhara had sent a cryptic note about BC going into hiding and that she was to send me e-tickets to Miami.  I insisted on bringing the new babe and her, the X-Animal and I strolled up the jet way to meet her there.

“Gonz!” I heard the familiar voice of my attorney. “Over here!”

“Over where?” I mumbled and took a few steps forward through the crowd of people speaking seemingly every language other than English.  A few more steps and I felt Sam’s strong arms embrace me.  I reminded my African Amazon to greet Caroline which she did with a grunt.

“What’s going on with Blind Christian?”  I asked.

“He’s holed up in my house boat over in the Glades, armed to the teeth and is on the phone with his legal and PR team all day and night.  He doesn’t sleep and he screams out with paranoid outbursts all of the time.”

“What brought this on?”  I continued as we got onto the elevator.

“I got us a Lincoln Town Car,” Samhara interjected.

“Cool!” added Caroline.

“What brought on this collapse by BC?” I pushed.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”


As soon as we stepped out of the elevator into the parking lot, the lovely Florida weather hit us hard.  I still had on my Eddie Bauer parka and a fleece hat so I didn’t exactly dress for the Glades.  “Did we pack for warm weather,” I asked Caroline.

“Mosquito suits and all,” she responded.

“She’s smarter than she looks,” added Samhara as she unlocked the trunk to the Town Car and started tossing in our luggage.

We hopped in the car and started heading west.  Samhara had a reggae CD playing and Caroline lit up a bowl of chronic.  I didn’t want to smoke until I found out what flipped BC’s switch this time.  I also wanted to know how ugly it had gotten.

“So, what about BC?”

“He did that interview with Backcess Globe,” said Samhara with a sigh.

“He does interviews all the time,” I replied.

“He talked for three hours.”

“So, everyone knows he has diarrhea of the mouth.”

“It got edited down to about six paragraphs.”

“Lemme guess, they were pretty controversial paragraphs?”

“Even Mr. Hunter got pissed this time.”

“Shit…”


After smoking a couple of bowls and finding my mind in a state where another of BC’s self-destructive, emotional wig outs might not seem too freaky, I relaxed a bit and enjoyed the ride and the Peter Tosh CD.  Caroline got all chatty and started babbling to Samhara about nothing in particular and Sam would grunt on occasion.  We got off of Alligator Alley at Everglades City and drove to a parking lot at a marina.

“Uh, where are we?”  I asked.

“The boat dock.”

“Is the house boat here?”

“No, a skiff, I have the boat moored out hidden among the 10,000 Islands, BC insisted.”

“Are there really 10,000 of them?” asked Caroline.

Ignoring her, “So, BC has you hiding your house boat somewhere in the actual wilderness?”

“He’s really nuts this time.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to help?”

“He says you’re the only one he can trust.  You and Hunter but he’s off in Central America on a very secret mission.”

“Trust me to do what?”  I asked as we stepped into the 22 foot center console.

“And what about me?”  Asked Caroline.

“I’m not sure.”

“This is going to suck…” I added.


I love fishing and the Florida outdoors but I also like being near a Starbucks and other life affirming signs of civilization.  The little island where the house boat was hidden would be overstated if we called it rustic.  This was as it had been left when the Calusa had abandoned it.  There were a lot of snook popping bait though which meant both the catch and release and the table fare would be excellent.  Over the roar of the Mercury outboard, I heard what was distinctly a rifle shot as we pulled toward our hide away.

Samhara cut the engine to idle and flipped on her loudspeaker.  It’s just Samhara, Gonz and girlfriend!”

“Prove it,” yelled someone from the little island and I heard another rifle shot that sounded like it was in our direction.

“BC, its Gonz, if you don’t stop shooting at us I will have to really fuck you up!”  I yelled into the microphone as I grabbed a Glock 9 from Sam’s storage hatch.  I really didn’t want to kill BC but I wasn’t too keen on getting my own ass shot either.

“Ok, ok,” yelled BC, “I believe you.”

As I stepped off the bow of the skiff the X-Dog jumped into the shallows and started splashing around like a puppy.  Caroline jumped in to play with the dog and Samhara tied up the skiff.


“So, why are we spending CSUN in hiding?” I asked BC.

“Isn’t this more pleasant than LA?”

“Yes, but we’re not making any money here,” I added.

“Who needs money when you’ve got snook and a G. Loomis rod?”

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

Samhara and Caroline decided to play in the water with the X-Dude so I might be able to extract something of what was going on from BC.  Samhara told me in the car that he starts to rant and then trails off and talks about soft plastic shrimp and the perfect twitch to catch snookies.

“Really Christian, what’s going on?  Why in hell are we in hiding?”

“Who’s hiding,” he replied.

“Let me see, we’re in the 10,000 islands when we’re supposed to be in LA.  We’re either in or at the edge of the National Park.  We’re heavily armed, loaded with chronic and weighted down with fishing gear and enough Deet to last the Marines for a few seasons in the jungle.  We’re dug in, this ain’t camping, it’s hiding.”  I tried to explain.

“Maybe it’s a lifestyle decision,” inserted BC.

“A what?”  I asked incredulously.

To be continued…

--End