Drunk on a Boat

by Zane Mitchell

  I puffed air out my nose. “Like I’d believe for a second that you’d just let her go?”

  “Oh, Drunk, you’ve got my word. You were right about Ms. Calcara. She’s been quite the demanding one. A little whiny for my taste. Perhaps that’s why you decided not to marry her, huh?” He looked at me as if waiting for an answer.

  Instead I shook my head. “Nah, let me tell you what’s not going to happen. I’m not wiring you a goddamned penny.” I flicked the card he’d handed me into a spiral in the air before continuing, “While I go about rounding up cash, you’re going to keep your filthy mitts off of Pam. Got it?”

  Harry stared at me. The slit in his mustache and beard duo was slightly wider than it had been previously. I could tell he didn’t like me changing the plan, but I could also tell that he was listening.

  “We’ll do the money transfer the old-fashioned way. I hand you a suitcase of cash and you hand me Pam. That’s my last and final offer.”

  The man chortled into his hand. “Your last and final offer? As if you really think you have a leg to stand on here, Daniel?”

  I shrugged. I might be scared of sharks, but I was prepared to swim with the fishes. I’d earned my swimming merit badge in the Scouts. I could tread water and wait for a boat to find me. Or I could swim to that little boat out there. If they expected me to paddle back to Paradise Isle, we couldn’t be too far off its shores. And if ultimately I died, at least I died with seven million dollars in my bank account. My parents would be set for life with that kind of money.

  “Your call. Take it or leave it.”

  Harry Potter glanced over at Smitty, who lifted a shoulder. Harry frowned at me. “Fine. We’ll figure something out. I’ll call your cell phone in twenty-four hours. I assume you’ll be back to your place by then. But you sure as hell better knock off the smart-ass routine.”

  “I thought you said I was going to need my sense of humor.”

  “Well, I…” He frowned again. “Just shut the hell up.” He pointed at me then, a bastardly sneer creeping across his face. “Throw him overboard.”

  I glanced over at Smitty, who was already coming towards me, his weapon aimed for any of the myriad vital organs and veins I held in my torso. The two nameless guards stood rigidly by the desk with their beefy arms crossed across their chest, feet shoulder-width apart. I hated the idea of leaving Pam alone with these bumblefucks, but I wasn’t the one with the gun.

  “Oh! Before you leave, Drunk.” Harry held up a finger as if he were stopping me from leaving of my own volition. “A couple more things. I’m going to need you to play by the rules until we’ve made our exchange. First of all, no cops. Absolutely no authorities of any kind. Second, you may not contact the media. In fact, you may not speak about this to anyone. Got it?”

  I fought back a smile. “Why? You shy? I mean, with looks like those, you really shouldn’t be.”

  He puffed air out his nose. “Once again—the smart-ass routine is gone.”

  “Is that one of the rules too?”

  Harry nodded. “It is.”

  I stubbed my toe into the deck, swiveling it like a little kid. “Aww, shucks.”

  “And finally, because we’re dealing with cash, there will be no funny business.”

  “Yeah? What constitutes funny business in your book?”

  “No fake bills, no tracking devices, no dye packs. I want the money in US dollars, and if you screw any of that up, Pam’s wearing concrete heels straight to the bottom of the Atlantic. Got it?”

  I stared hard at Harry then. Memorizing every little detail of his face. I was going to make this man pay. I didn’t know how, but I was going to do everything in my power to make it happen.

  He pointed to the exterior railing that ran around the hull of the boat. “Now. Walk the plank.” He squinted one eye shut and added an “Arrr” for good measure.

  Big and Burly spun me around and shoved a gun between my shoulder blades. I glanced at Harry over my shoulder as I walked towards the ship’s deck. “You’ve been waiting your whole life to say that, haven’t you?”

  Harry grinned. “I have, as a matter of fact. I’ll be in touch, Daniel.”

  20

  I was lucky enough to hit the water feet first, but the impact knocked my hat off. So the first thing I did after resurfacing was to swim after my hat and then to dig my glasses out of my pocket and put them on my face. I already had a splitting headache. The culprit, of course, could have been one of many things: tension was high on the list; perhaps another blasted hangover; lack of food and caffeine; quite possibly the concussion I’d likely suffered after being lambasted in the head in the back of my cottage earlier that morning; and then there was also the beating I’d taken in the unicorn stateroom. I certainly didn’t need the blinding sun to exacerbate my already-throbbing skull.

  And now here I was, treading water in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Harry Potter’s yacht had already taken off, heading for deeper waters, I assumed. I’d watched it go, hoping to find any notable clues about the true identity of Harry or his yacht. But it was simply a large white yacht with no visible lettering, at least not on the stern. Nothing gave me even the slightest inkling as to who Harry Potter might have truly been or where he’d come from.

  The little johnboat they’d left for me was dozens and dozens of yards away. I only knew the general direction based on the proximity to the yacht’s hull and the sun’s position. I couldn’t see it from where I bobbed, spitting salty water out of my mouth and feeling the biting sting it caused my split lip.

  While I knew I was a decent swimmer, anxiety had already set in. Despite the opinion of Bruce of the Finding Nemo crew, sharks most definitely weren’t friends. So before I took off on my swim, I had to pause, taking several deep breaths to calm myself. And then the pep talk came.

  You got this, Danny.

  It’s like what? A football field? Maybe two? No sweat.

  Sharks are probably out in the deep end of the ocean anyway. This has got to be the shallow end, the kiddie pool really. So get it together. You don’t want Ma and Pops to have to have an empty casket for your funeral, so you gotta make it to that boat.

  Got it?

  Swim.

  So I’d taken off. Wishing I’d had time to eat brunch before I’d been hit over the head. I might have had more in me then. But I swam until my shoulders burned. I stopped several times to correct myself, especially once I was finally able to see the boat. I was thankful the water was warm and it was a calm day. If the water had been choppier, there was no way I would have been able to catch up to it, but I could definitely tell I was gaining on it.

  After what felt like hours, I caught up to the small flat-bottomed boat. Thankfully, they’d left the mooring rope dangling over the edge, and I was able to use it to pull myself up into the boat. Drenched, fatigued, and incredibly hungry, I fell onto one of the three welded bench seats and took almost a full five minutes to catch my breath, let my pulse return to normal, and to soak up the warmth of the Caribbean sun before I explored the contents of the boat.

  Boat exploration turned out to be brief. I looked to the front of the boat and saw nothing. I looked to the back of the boat and saw the same. My shoulders crumpled inward.

  Fuck.

  I was quite literally up shit creek without a paddle.

  21

  I waved at Captain Butch Camron and his crew as they motored off, leaving me off at the mouth of Angel’s Bay. Cap’n Butch had taken me in as far as his fishing charter boat could make it without getting hung up on the coral reef, and I swam the rest of the way to the shore, back-floating much of the distance. Because by the time I’d been rescued by the four-man crew, night had begun to fall, and not only was I burnt to a golden crisp, but I was also beyond ravenous and almost completely dehydrated.

  Cap’n Butch’s first mate, Cale, a young twenty-something fellow with waist-long blond dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail, had shared the extra lunch he’d packed: a bologna sand
wich and a bag of Flamin’ Hot Funyuns. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have eaten the Funyuns, but at that point, I probably would have eaten a live cat if someone had put one in my lap. Cap’n Butch had also kindly given me two bottles of water, which I’d absorbed almost as soon as they’d been handed to me.

  Despite that gourmet supper, by the time I made it back to the Seacoast Majestic’s sandy shoreline, I was so starving I thought I might pass out. Barefoot, after having lost my flip-flops when I’d been sent overboard, I staggered up the beach to the swim-up pool bar, where I discovered both Mack and Al seated in front of Manny.

  Mack was the first to lay eyes on me.

  She’d swiveled around casually on her barstool, holding a peach-colored drink and haphazardly taking in the beach scene. That was when I came into view. Her eyes widened and she nearly choked on the sip she’d just taken.

  “Drunk!” she squealed before leaping off the stool to throw her arms around my badly sunburned shoulders. “There you are!”

  “Ouch!” I winced and peeled her arms off my shoulders. “Easy there.”

  “Oh my God, what happened to you?” Her brown eyes were big as she gave me a once-over, noting my ragged, soaked clothing, bruised and swollen face, and my sunburn.

  “Ay, ay, ay, Drunk! You look like shit,” said Manny, leaning over the bar.

  “Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” added Al, who also looked shocked to see me in my present condition.

  Mack pulled out a barstool for me and scooted over so I could sit between her and Al. “Everyone’s been looking for you. I wanted to call the cops, but Artie wouldn’t let me.”

  “Gimme a tall water, Manny,” I said before shooting Mack a pleading look. “And I’ll take one of Trin’s chicken bacon wraps too, if you don’t mind.”

  She hopped off her barstool. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll be right back. But don’t start the story till I get back.”

  “Hey, and some fries!” I added, not making any promises about saving my story for her.

  Manny, Al, and I watched as Mack strode around the pool to the snack bar on the other side. Trinity wasn’t working, but I knew someone else would hook her up for me.

  “So what the hell happened?” asked Al. “Everyone’s been looking for you. You left your phone in your room. You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving the resort property. We were all worried.”

  “I left my phone here because I didn’t know I was leaving resort property,” I barked, swallowing down the tall glass of water in two big gulps. I tapped my glass on the top of the counter and slid it to Manny. “I was hit over the head and taken.”

  “Get out!” Manny practically hollered.

  My eyes widened and I ducked, as if there were spies everywhere. “Shhh,” I hissed. “We gotta keep this on the down-low, or else they’re gonna kill her.”

  “The guys that got Pam are the ones that got you?” asked Al.

  I glanced up at Manny. While I didn’t have a problem with Manny knowing what was going on, I wasn’t sure that spreading the information was such a good idea.

  “Al already filled me in,” he admitted before refilling my glass.

  “Sorry, kid,” said Al. “I wasn’t sure what to think when you went missing.”

  “It’s fine. We just can’t let this get out. Alright?”

  Al and Manny both gave nods but were silent and ready to hear my story.

  “So, yeah, the guys that have Pam are the guys that got me. Motherfuckers. I was in the back of my house, picking up my pillows, and they hit me over the back of the head. Next thing I know, I’m on a fucking yacht.”

  “What were your pillows doing in the back of your house?” asked Al.

  I gave him the side-eye. “Slightly irrelevant, considering the fact that I just walked outta the Atlantic Ocean, don’t you think, Al?”

  Al shrugged. “I was just curious. I mean, it matters why you were in the back of your house.”

  I swiveled my barstool to look at him full-on. “Why in the hell does it matter why I was in the back of my house?”

  “I mean, how’d these guys know you were gonna be in the back of your house? How’d they know they could nab you there?”

  “Fuck if I know.” I swallowed the remaining water in the glass and slid it forward again. “Hit me again, Manny.”

  “I’ve never seen you drink this much water, Drunk.” Manny took the tall cylinder and refilled it once again. Ice clinked against the glass.

  “I’m fucking dehydrated. I just about died!” I took another swig of water. “Now, can I finish my story before Mack gets back? I can’t have her knowing all of this. She might tell some of the rest of the girls at the front desk, and then it’s all fucking over. Pam’ll be dead and it’ll be all my fault.”

  “Finish, finish,” said Al, rolling his gnarled hands, like he wasn’t the one interrupting my story.

  “Fine. So I wake up on a fucking yacht.”

  “A yacht?” cried Al. “What were you doing on a yacht?”

  I gave him the side-eye again but didn’t respond. “Some guy named Smitty is responsible for this mess,” I said, pointing at my split lip and swollen face. “And I met the mastermind behind this whole fucking situation,” I growled into my third glass of water. “Awkward-looking little punk ass.”

  “So what was the point of them grabbing you only to let you go?” asked Manny.

  “I think they wanted me to see the condition that Pam’s in so I’d take this more seriously,” I said, my heart heavy. “They’ve got her chained up. That ponytailed guy that nabbed her put hands on her. Her face was all swollen and bruised. She looked like shit, and she was absolutely terrified.”

  Al nodded. “You gonna pay them now or what?”

  I rubbed my still-throbbing head. “I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of this, and there’s got to be another way to rescue her without giving them the money.”

  “Another way? Drunk! Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? The money’s not worth it! Pam’s life is at stake.”

  “I think I can save both,” I said. “I just have to figure out how. I mean, at least now I know where they’re holding her. I feel like I’ve got more to go on now.”

  Mack reappeared with a chicken wrap basket and fries. “Alora gave you a double scoop of fries and said she’s happy you’re back.” She wrinkled her brow at me. “Did you and her ever have a thing?”

  I chuckled. “No, I can honestly say we haven’t had a thing together.” Taking the basket, I shoved four fries into my mouth. “Mmmm, thanks, Mack. I needed this so bad.”

  “So are you going to tell me where you’ve been all day?”

  “Where I’ve been all day?” I shot a glance at Al and Manny and then looked at Mack again. “Oh, I just went to visit a few friends, that’s all.”

  “A few friends? Friends did this to you?”

  “You know, sometimes friends play rough,” I said with a shrug.

  Mack’s face glowed red beneath the dimming light. She put her hands on her hips. “Tell me the truth, Drunk. Did you really go to see another woman?”

  I let out a chuckle. If only that was who I’d been to see. “Nah, Mack. There’s no other woman. But it’s a long story, and I’m fucking exhausted and my body hurts like hell. I just wanna go crawl into bed. Let’s save the story for another day.”

  Mack smiled sweetly. “Okay, well, how about I take you back to your cottage?” She cozied up to my side. “I’ll nurse your wounds.”

  Every fiber of my body ached, from my hair follicles on the top of my head all the way down to the hair on my big toe. Being nursed back to health sounded good and all, but all I really wanted to do was to sleep and figure out how I was going to save both Pam and my seven million dollars. I gave Mack a half-grin. “How ’bout a rain check on that offer?”

  22

  I awoke the next morning stiff as hell in all the wrong places and keenly aware that someone was staring at me.
I whole-body flinched, my legs and arms jerking upwards and my eyes flickering open, ready to take on whoever had come to bean me over the head and abduct me for the second time in as many days.

  “No morning kisses, no morning kisses, rawck!” cracked Earnestine, staring down at me from the headboard of my bed. She flapped her wings and walked along the top edge of my bed, bobbing her head to music only she could hear.

  I stared up at the bird, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Shit!” I screamed at the bird. “You fucking scared me!”

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she chanted while jumping up and down at the peak of the curved headboard.

  Damn, the bird had attitude.

  Women!

  Knowing I had a big day ahead of me, and for once not hungover, I gingerly eased my way out of bed and headed for the shower. I figured a nice cool shower and a handful of ibuprofen ought to ease some of the aches and pains Smitty and the day of swimming, dehydration, and sunburn had caused, and I was right. The shower was exactly what I needed to feel remotely human again.

  When I was done, I walked, dripping wet, into my bedroom, only to remember that I had no clean clothing left to put on. But after a careful exploration of every drawer, I discovered a pair of lime-green-and-blue swim trunks in the bottom drawer. I sighed. They’d have to work.

  The bathroom mirror revealed the damage the day before had inflicted on me. Though my hat had taken a beating and was now slightly discolored courtesy of the saltwater bath we’d both taken, I was thankful I’d been able to save it, as it had protected my face from the blisters my shoulders now sported. I fingered my lips. They were both chapped, split and swollen, and they hurt to move. I also had some bruising along my jawline, but I managed to shave anyway.