Chapter Three #3
“I’ll ask them when they come up for air.
” He walks over and taps a hand on the wire railing that circles the boat.
“Watch the lifelines. They are low on a boat like this, and we don’t want anyone leaning over too far and ending up in the ocean.
” He points at the long horizontal piece the big sail is attached to.
“That there is the boom. It shifts back and forth when I turn the wheel. If you aren’t paying attention, you could get knocked on your ass by the boom’s swing.
Keep an eye on that at all times while walking around.
It’s safest if you stay seated while we’re underway to avoid that problem. ”
He points at the life preserver. “There’s a life ring in case of an emergency—but please, no emergencies.
I have snorkel equipment below deck for later.
Please no sunscreen spray on your feet. Nobody likes a slippery deck, and it’s terrible on the teak.
The head is below, straight back through the galley.
Door on the right. You can put your bags in the cabin or keep them up here with you; just don’t put anything near the side or you’re likely to lose it.
Boats are bumpy on a good day, and we’re likely to rock a bit more than normal because of the weather.
Like I said, if you have to puke, aim for the ocean. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy the day.”
Huh. Okay. Captain Keith sounds pretty legit. Maybe Ben’s desperate last-minute selection isn’t a total lost cause. Jackson adjusts the sunglasses on his face and leans back in his seat. I wonder if he feels any better about this.
The sailboat’s motor whirls to life. Captain Keith releases the last rope keeping us in place, the boat jostles a bit, and we’re free of the dock. We pick up speed once we clear the marina, slowly cruising into the bay.
Captain Keith messes with some settings behind the wheel and speakers kick on. A high-tempo David Guetta song blasts across the boat. I watch the marina get smaller and smaller behind us, and I don’t realize my knuckles have turned white around my water bottle until Jackson pokes one of them.
“You okay?”
I nod, but I don’t meet his gaze. “Yup. I love cruising straight into the eye of a storm with California Keith, captain of the bros. This is fine. I’m great,” I say under my breath.
Jackson scoots forward until he’s in my line of sight. His pretty hazel eyes bore into me. “If it gets rough out there, I’ll make this guy take us back. Everything will be okay. Besides, he seems fairly competent.”
We both turn to Captain Keith, who’s donned a pair of aviators and shed his Hawaiian shirt. He stands at the wheel, grinning into the wind, bare chested. His smooth waxed skin is a little too shiny to be natural. A large tattoo stretches beneath his puka shell necklace that says, “NICKELBACK.”
“I should have stayed behind when I had the chance.” I grip the edge of the cushion for dear life. “Puka Shell Keith is the stuff of nightmares.”
Jackson nudges my shoulder with his. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”
My teeth grind together. “I don’t need you to protect me.”
His laugh takes me by surprise, and when I glance at him, his expression is part annoyance, part humor. “Oh, believe me, I know that.”
Snippets of unwelcome memories fly through my mind. Jackson standing with a sobbing Emmy in the middle of a dark, deserted road. A driveway illuminated by a single floodlight. Me towering over smashed pieces of plastic and wire.
He looked at me the same way that night. Like he was both shocked and amused by his sister’s quiet best friend causing a—well-deserved—scene. At the time, I was thrilled to surprise him. That look on his face felt like a quiet victory in my near-constant quest for his attention.
But now? Now it pisses me off.
“I’m going to take some pictures.”
Jackson starts to say something, but I get up and move to the opposite side of the boat before he can speak.
At the helm, Captain Keith tugs a few ropes, and the sails raise, catching the wind as he aggressively sings along to “#SELFIE” by The Chainsmokers, which is quite possibly the most annoying song on the planet.
Captain Keith winks at me as we rocket out toward the open ocean.
I fold my arms. “How exactly did Ben find you?”
“He caught me as I was pulling into the marina—I’d just sailed up from Manzanillo.
He was walking up and down the docks, knocking on boats, and helped me tie up.
Offered me a thousand dollars for the day.
Half up front, half when I get you all back in one piece.
” He laughs. “Just like that. A thousand bucks. Saved my ass, honestly. I was running low on supplies, and it can be tricky to find private charters these days. Everyone wants the affiliated tours with the fancy polos and the catering and the amenities. Nobody wants to appreciate the simple beauty of the sea anymore.”
I realize my mouth is open and snap it shut. Sure, sure. Who wouldn’t pass up a fleet of shiny new boats full of food and a professional crew when you can have…
Nickelback’s biggest fan?
“Lucky us,” I say.
“Watch the boom!” he shouts to nobody in particular.
He turns the wheel while pulling on a rope.
The horizontal arm swings to the left, and he scurries off to secure the rope in place.
“With the cash I can make some much-needed repairs to my baby before our next adventure.” He pats the fiberglass tenderly.
“She’s been a little neglected lately. When we get back to shore, she’s getting a spa day, let me tell ya. ”
“Did you just say ‘neglected’?” Jackson asks, his voice tight.
Keith shrugs, walking back to the wheel. “Usual wear and tear. Nothing to panic about.”
I catch Jackson’s eye across the boat.
What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?