8. This Isn’t a Pleasure Cruise
This Isn’t a Pleasure Cruise
MATTHEW
Istare at the bubbles on the inside of my glass, the white foam creeping down until it joins the beer in the bottom. I’m out with the guys, but my brain is somewhere else entirely.
Since the second Lillian drove away from the airport, I haven’t been able to shake her. She cares about what she’s doing. I know she does. That much became obvious to me through our time together, and the way she went from buoyant to crestfallen in an instant.
But clearly, she just wants something from me. It’s not earnest or genuine. It’s business.
It’s all just business.
Still, my rationalization can’t eclipse the way I feel about her. Those fluttering feelings in my stomach. I haven’t had those in years.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Matt.”
I look up at my brother across the table. “Long day,” I say. “You know how flying takes it out of me.”
Tuma leans in with a smile on his lips, his thin eyes growing even thinner. “You got the new radio?”
I nod. “Yeah, I installed it this afternoon.”
“Finally,” Jesse says, holding his hand up to flag down Fred, the namesake of the bar, Fat Fred’s.
I glower at my brother.
“You should have let me know you were going. I would have gone with you,” Tuma says.
“Thanks man,” I reply with an earnest smile. “But um . . .” Might as well tell them. It’s not like they can do anything now that Lillian’s been up in the air with me. “I ran into that scientist the other night, and she asked about using the boat and?—”
Jesse balks. “Don’t tell me you said yes.”
Now I wish I had just to piss him off. “No, I didn’t say yes. But I offered to take her up in the plane and show her the bay.”
“That was nice of you, mate,” Ian says.
“Ian!” Jesse snaps.
“What? Just because we don’t like what she’s doing doesn’t mean we’ve got to treat her like a leper, Jesse,” Ian shoots back, running his thumb over the corner of his horseshoe mustache then adds with a dry smile, “Besides, I’d think you’d be champing at the bit to get a moment alone with her.”
A flame of jealousy alights inside me.
Jesse guffaws. “Sure, she’s good-looking, but no. I’m not interested in smart girls.”
“You’re missing out, you bastard,” Ian replies.
“I think what Jesse means is that smart women are too smart to fall for his bullshit,” I mutter.
Jesse narrows his eyes at me. “Jealous much?”
I finish off my beer. “Not at all.”
Fred cuts through the tension with a replacement beer for Jesse. He goes to grab my drink, but I hold up my hand to signal I’m done. It’s too easy for one to turn into five if you’re not careful. Just to feel something. Especially, when it’s still light out at ten o’clock.
Once he’s gone, we are quiet as the gears shift. There’s no use getting into arguments, but it’s hard when you work with family. And, given the way things work around here, everyone becomes family at some point.
“You’re too nice, man,” Jesse finally says.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Everyone’s giving her a hard time for being an outsider, and I thought maybe I could get a good read on her instead of all this fearmongering.”
“Fair,” Tuma says.
Ian sits up, his eyes zeroing in on the door. “Well, what do you know, here comes your girl now.”
“She not my—” Wait. She’s here? I whip around in my seat.
My cheeks flush when I see Lillian in the doorway of the bar.
Her hair is up out of her face now, making her look a bit taller.
Although, that could be the heeled boots she’s wearing.
She shuffles to the side to let a couple of guys leave.
I watch her inhale sharply, her chest puffing like she’s putting on her armor.
I’ll give her credit. She’s brave to keep on showing up, even though she knows how people respond to her.
“Please tell me you didn’t invite her.” Jesse groans.
“I didn’t,” I say. But I sort of wish I had, so she’d be walking over to me. It was close to impossible to tell her I wasn’t sure about the boat, but I had to. After that lunch, I just knew being close to her was going to make me act stupid. And I don’t act stupid. Can’t afford to.
Lillian heads to the bar as she scans the tight, dingy interior. Despite the brightness outside, Fred still turns on all the neon signs and branded Tiffany-style lamps. It’s got ambiance. Not necessarily a nice one, but an ambiance for sure.
“She looks so . . .” Tuma trails off. “I don’t know. Alone.”
That’s because she literally is, as she waits for someone to notice her waiting to order a drink. She’s got a book tucked under her arm. She really came out here to read? No wonder she’s not Jesse’s type.
But she’s mine. That’s obvious, and there’s no use lying to myself about it.
I like a woman who is interested. Interested in everything.
The world around her; the world she doesn’t know yet.
Because I’m curious too. I think you have to be when you spend your life out on the water.
You’re always looking at the horizon, wondering what’s just beyond. Forcing fear to take a backseat.
Maybe we’re more similar than we are different. Those differences, though, are huge.
“God, she brought a book to a bar. She’s one of those.” Jesse snorts into his beer.
“Why are you such an asshole?” I ask without pulling any punches.
Jesse’s face curdles, ready to give it back to me. However, Tuma intercedes before anything can happen. “You say that like it’s a new thing, Matt.”
Now Jesse turns his attention to Tuma, but no one can stay mad at Tuma. He’s like Winnie the Pooh in an Aleut body. Softspoken and kind, even when people don’t deserve it. “Alright, give me your hand,” Jesse says, waving at Tuma.
Tuma rolls his eyes and holds out one hand. Jesse grabs it, and instead of arm wrestling like you’d expect brawny sailors to, they start thumb wrestling. Like two little worms rolling around, trying to pin the other down.
“I’m too old for shit like this,” Ian mumbles.
While Ian refs the thumb wrestling, I watch Lillian leaning over the bar to talk to Fred over the din.
Her ass is right there, and even I am easily distracted when it comes to an apple bottom.
My god, I can just picture my hands fitting around her, pulling her onto my lap. Not the time or the place.
I pull my eyes up to keep my desire from getting out of control. Fred saunters off to get her a drink and, as if sensing I’m watching, Lillian looks over her shoulder at me. Her surprise lasts only a moment before she smiles and gives me a little wave.
Something expands in my chest. I smile back.
“Having fun?” she mouths at me. At least I think that’s what she mouths. I get a little lost thinking about how her lips would feel against my neck.
I shrug and then glance at a chair at the empty table next to us. I put my hand on it and nod toward it.
Lillian frowns for a moment. “Are you sure?”
I shrug again, letting my lips dip down.
Lillian considers my offer. She smiles. “Okay.”
I shouldn’t have invited her over, but I can’t deny how good her acceptance feels.
“Dammit! Unfair. Your thumbs are too long!” Jesse exclaims.
Tuma scoffs. “You’re the one who challenged me!”
“Fair is fair, Jesse,” Ian says.
I grab the bottom of the empty chair and yank it between Tuma and me. “Move over.”
“What? Why?” Tuma asks but obliges.
“Lillian’s coming to sit with us.”
My brother’s entire body tenses. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
“No, you need to learn a little bit about respect. You don’t have to get along with her, but you?—”
Lillian appears over Jesse’s shoulder. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Jesse says as I eagerly say, “No.” I give my brother an angry look.
Her eyes widen, cheeks going slack. “I can go,” she says, backing a step away.
Thankfully, Ian manages to wrangle up his English politeness. “Nonsense, love. We’ve got a seat for you and everything.”
Lillian takes the seat next to me and gives me a thankful smile.
“Watcha reading?” I ask, placing my hand on the back of her chair and then quickly retracting it for fear I’m crossing a line. Tuma clocks me and snickers behind his hand.
“Oh!” She looks at the book in her hand as if she forgot it was there. “It’s a book about Alaskan flowers I got while I had a layover in Anchorage.”
“You read that for fun?” Jesse asks.
I sigh. “Lillian, this is my brother Jesse. Sorry, he never stopped being an angsty teenager.”
“Yes, we met briefly before, but nice to make it official,” Lillian says.
Jesse merely looks at me. I ignore him. “And this is Tuma and Ian.”
Tuma and Ian exchange pleasantries with Lillian. At least they haven’t forgotten their manners.
“Lillian’s here for research,” I say to give the illusion they didn’t already know.
“You study plants?” Tuma asks, playing along, while Jesse grumbles, “I know.”
“No, marine life,” Lillian says. “But it’s good to have a comprehensive knowledge of an environment. Plus, it genuinely interests me.”
Tuma’s smile brightens. “My wife would like you. She knows all about plants and . . . well, everything,” he says.
The way Tuma talks about Katoo makes me jealous. I haven’t been lucky enough to meet my match. They’ve been together since they were kids, shared so much history, and a few children too at this point. Tuma might be my best friend, but his is Katoo.
“She’s also the reigning queen of the salmon-filleting contest,” Ian adds with flair.
Lillian laughs. “There’s a salmon-filleting contest?”
“Don’t see what’s funny about that,” Jesse says.
“Weren’t you just leaving, Jess?” I say in a voice verging on a growl.
My brother glares at me. He takes his beer and lopes off into the bar to hopefully find people who appreciate his bad attitude.
“Sorry about him,” I murmur to Lillian.
She touches my arm. “It’s okay.” And though she releases me, I still feel her touch, nerves remembering the exact position of her fingers on me. “I don’t mean to sound judgmental. If anything, I’m the pleb here. I just love how no matter where you go, there are special customs and cultures and?—”
“Well, Tuma is Aleut,” I say, gesturing at my friend. “His family are Native Alaskans.”