Seeing her sit up and watching as her tan, flat abs tightened up, Troy felt himself mentally stutter…as well as stumbling over his words.
“Uhh…um…I might have some of the…um…that is…have a bottle of…”
His voice trailed off as she inhaled. As her bare chest rose and fell, he felt sure she was doing this on purpose. He gathered himself and sucked air in over his teeth.
“I think I got a bottle of that frog stuff down below.”
She smiled; proud of the discomfort she was causing him.
“Tell you what, I’ll roll over and sun my back a bit until you get back. Then we can talk about all the ways you can apply that…frog stuff.”
“Oh…” was all he could muster as he jogged down the ladder into the boat.
He rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen and found a green bottle of sunscreen mixed with bug deterrent spray and shook it. He opened it and sniffed. Fresh enough, he thought. He closed the lid and took the steps two at a time back up to the deck.
Troy was shocked to find that Meira was sitting up, holding her tank top over her chest and looking very concerned.
“Hey, now, I wasn’t gone that long. What gives?” he joked, but she didn’t smile.
She pointed off to the East, slightly farther out in the ocean. Perhaps a mile away, Troy could see a boat. It looked like it might be a tourist boat or something like that. There had to be at least twenty people on the deck moving around. Some were waving their hands frantically, but from this distance, he couldn’t make out what the situation was on board.
Above their deck, flapping in the breeze, Troy saw a flag waving. It was bright orange with a black circle and a black square—the universal boating symbol of distress.
“Hold on, darlin’.” Troy jumped into the captain’s chair and fired up the boat. “Oh, and you might wanna get your shirt back on. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
Meira pulled her top back on and sat in the seat opposite Troy.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” he said. “But I think their boat might’ve quit on ‘em. Looks like a bunch of tourists.”
She nodded and squinted into the distance trying to get a good look. The wind whipped her hair around her head and Troy couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she still looked…even when she was windblown. As they got closer, Troy realized he recognized the boat. What in the world is he doin’ out there? he thought, and why are all those people—
Meira seemed to finish his thought out loud. “Naked. They’re all naked, Troy.”
“Looks like we weren’t the only ones gettin’ some sun,” he grinned and eased his boat within a few feet of them.
The people on board looked to be young—maybe twenties and thirties. Some were waving their hands frantically and calling out to him. All were naked…and some were red—sunburn red—really, really sunburned. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he waved and jogged up to the deck to throw out bumpers. When they got within a few feet, he saw an old, gray man push his way through the crowd.
He tried his best to stifle his laughter as old Mel tried to wave and cover his bare body at the same time. Mel was tanned and ruddy over most of his body, but his midsection that would’ve normally been covered with his shorts, was white as snow…er, actually, bright pink with a sunburn of his own.
As his boat drifted in, Troy began to see that some of the millennials were holding poster board signs, most of which had some sort of message scribbled in heavy marker about saving the whales, or the environment. All of them looked weary and exhausted.
“What gives, Mel?” Troy asked as the old man tottered forward to tie their boats together.
“Protest group,” he grunted. “We were just supposed to make a few rounds up and down the shore so they could get on the news or some foolishness. Damn boat had other plans. She quit twenty friggin’ minutes into the cruise. Unfortunately, the news helicopter was long gone and we’ve been drifting ever since.
Mel reached out to help Troy step over onto his boat.
“What’s your deal, dude?” one of the protestors, a skinny kid with long, dirty, dreadlocked hair, leaned toward Troy and jabbed a finger in his chest.
Troy grabbed the kid’s finger and twisted it backward. He could feel it start to crunch as the boy buckled and fell to his knees. He let it go and shook his head as the kid cradled it with his other hand.
“Just like a fascist,” the kid groaned. “Oppression at it’s finest, you guys. The big man with the big boat wrecking the environment and stomping on the little guy.”
Troy arched an eyebrow. “Listen junior. From the looks of it, you are the little guy.”
The kid jerked his head from side to side and covered his midsection with his hands.
“And if you want this big boat with its big ‘ole carbon footprint to get you and your compadres back to shore, you need to show a little respect.”
The dreadlock kid huffed and turned away with his nose up in the air.
“We’ll ride on his boat,” he said to his fellow protestors. “But we don’t have to like it.”
A chorus of agreement rumbled through the bedraggled group. Some of them were staring longingly over at the boat that had a working motor. Meira had come over to lean against the rail of Troy’s boat. She grabbed a pair of shorts – apparently some she’d raided from his bunk – and tossed them over to him.
He caught them and handed them to Mel. “Get these on and we’ll start loadin’ up your passengers over here. We’ll get ‘em back to shore, but I reckon you should drop anchor and leave your boat. You can get a tug and come back out for a tow.”
“Much obliged, Troy, though I ain’t sure I can pay for a tug. I’m bettin’ these little shits will stiff me on the payment for the job.”
Troy scratched his chin and thought for a moment. After a moment he looked over Mel’s shoulder at the group and leaned close to the old man’s ear.
“Who’s the leader? Is it the dread kid?”
“It’s more like a commune type thing,” Mel said. “I reckon there are two or three of ‘em that are runnin’ this little show.”
“Okay, as we get them on, point ‘em out to me.”
Mel’s face took on a confused look but he agreed. As the sunburned protestors began to file over onto Troy’s boat, it turned out that the group of four people who were in charge of the mission came over last. Two girls and two guys, all looking like they stepped out of a seventies hippie commune, stood in front of Troy.
“Folks,” he said to them with his hands in the air. “According to regulations, I’ve only got enough room for ten on the boat.”
They looked at each other, each wondering what he was talking about.
“And y’all have fourteen.”
He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. He let the silence hang between them as they tried to discern where he was going with this.
“So, four of you will have to stay behind. I suppose it’ll be the four of you.”
“What the hell?” The dreadlocked kid had a stunned look on his face. “We’re on the boat. Let’s just get back to shore.”
“Sorry, amigo,” Troy held up his hands in surrender gesture. “No can do. If the Coast Guard stops us and counts our life preservers, I’ll go to jail.”
This was an exaggeration. At best, he’d probably get a warning. At worst, they might write him a ticket and assess him a fine of fifty bucks. But these yahoos didn’t need to know that.
“We can’t stay out here, Todd,” one of the girls threw her hands up.
“Sweetie, let me handle this,” the kid with dreadlocks – Todd – shushed her to her apparent disgust.
“Look, bro,” he said to Troy. “What can we do to work this out? Is this about money? Because I’ve got enough to buy this hunk of junk if that’s what it takes.”
Troy sniffed. Hunk of junk indeed, he thought. Time to set the hook.
“No money
for me, kid.” He leaned closer to Todd and inhaled. “But let’s give Mel here a pay raise. Whadda ya think?”
“For getting us stuck in the middle of nowhere and giving us the worst sunburn of our lives??”
Troy moved closer until the brim of his straw cowboy hat was almost touching Todd’s forehead.
“I’m thinkin’ double.” Troy lowered his voice and added a bit of menace to his tone. “Doncha think that’s about right…Todd?”
“Just do it, Todd.” His girlfriend poked him in the back. “If we stay out here any longer, we’re going to have third degree burns.”
“Shut up, Clarice,” he snapped, turning toward her. “I’ll handle this.”
And without warning, she kneed him in the crotch. Todd screamed like a girl and dropped to his knees. She looked up at Troy and licked her lips.
“We’ll double his fee. Just get us the hell out of here.”
Troy arched an eyebrow. “Fine, fine. But we still need to resolve the issue of the life jackets.”
Mel, who’d been watching the scene play out, leaned in. “If I get the raft from my boat, we can tow them behind. Then they won’t need life preservers.”
This was patently false, but that was not a fact Troy was going to dispute.
“If we can have that thing up and tied on in ten minutes, I’ll triple your fee, old man,” Clarice said to Mel.
“Done,” he said and winked at Troy.
There was no reason to tow the extra four people behind his boat; Troy only had four life preservers anyway. But this would give the leaders of this group a chance to fry some more in the sun and breathe in the exhaust coming out the back of Troy’s carbon footprint. He turned to head back to the cockpit and found Meira standing in front of him…arms crossed and grinning.
“Evil,” she whispered. “Hilarious, but evil. I like it.”
“It’s gonna be a long tow,” he said conspiratorially. “Can’t risk tippin’ ‘em over.”
She pecked him on the cheek. “You dog.”
Troy barked at her and returned the kiss.
“Hey man,” one of the other protesters called to Troy. “You got anything for a sunburn.”
Troy scratched his chin and tipped his hat back on his head. “I might have a little aloe down below.”
The protestor conferred with another kid sitting beside him. After a furious discussion, he turned back to Troy.
“Is it responsibly harvested aloe?”
“Responsawhat?”
“Is it aloe that’s harvested in an environmentally responsible way so as not to deplete the current supply of aloe plants?”
Troy rolled his eyes and looked at Meira. “Will you check and see if I have any um…responsible aloe?”
“Sure thing, sugar.” She returned his eye roll with a grin and stepped down the stairs.
Troy pulled the raft so slow that the protestors on board were getting completely roasted. He tossed a few bottles of water to them at one point and wondered if they would drink it…the bottles perhaps not environmentally friendly. But they gulped it down and asked for more. Troy was happy to oblige. The third time he walked back to the captain’s chair, he found Mel and Meira laughing. For perhaps the millionth time, Troy heard the end of the story Mel always told about being on the river in India…or was it China…with all the guerrilla warlords cow-towing to him on the deck. Meira was eating it up, as did everyone who heard the story for the first time. Troy wondered if Mel consciously upped the exaggeration with every telling or if it was just the way old stories got told. He suspected it was a bit of both.
“Brother,” Mel slapped him on the shoulder as he relinquished the wheel. “This here’s a fine young woman. Maybe you’ll finally do what’s right and settle down with this one.”
Troy cleared his throat as Meira arched an eyebrow and grinned.
“This one, eh?” she jibed. “Mel, just how many others have there been?”
“Oh, geez, I dunno, ten maybe…er…fifteen…Troy what do you figure is the count up to by—.”
Troy interrupted him with an elbow to his ribs.
“Hey! Whatch where yer stickin’ that thing,” Mel complained.
But Troy wasn’t listening anymore.
“Uh oh,” he muttered and checked his speed.
He inched the throttle up, careful not to spill the passengers in the raft behind them. He looked over his shoulder and mumbled something about them being safe or not.
“What is it, Troy?” Meira asked.
He pointed south of the boat. She and Mel turned to look. A menacing looking cloud was dancing on the horizon. Streaks of lightning blasted the water, and the clouds rumbled toward them.
“It’s moving fast,” Troy said. “I’m not sure we’ll make it back before it gets us with those kids in tow.”
“Can we bring ‘em in?” Mel asked as he scratched his chin.
“We probably should.” Troy inhaled slowly.
And that was when the rogue wave decided to slam into the side of his boat.
It wasn’t the kind of giant wave pictured in disaster movies that wiped out Florida or California. And it wasn’t big enough to hurt his boat. Mostly it just tossed the passengers from one side to the other and knocked every dish Troy owned off the shelves in his kitchen below deck. And unfortunately, it dumped everyone who had been in the raft into the water.
“Dangit,” Troy barked as he picked himself up off the floor. “Mel, shut her down and hold her steady. Meira, come help me do a little fishin’.”
“You got it.” She struggled to find her footing but was able to make her way toward the back of the boat moving slowly, hand over hand on seat backs and side rails.
As they looked out behind the rolling boat, they could see the raft had torn away and was floating far behind. And along the way, dotting the ocean like lost beach balls bobbing up and down, were the four leaders of the protesters. Todd was splashing around flailing his arms and screeching at the top of his lungs. To her credit, Clarice was swimming calmly toward the boat. Along the way, she grabbed Todd by the dreads and dragged him along with her. The others were treading water and making their way toward the boat as well.
By the time Troy had hauled them into the boat, it was beginning to rain. They had slowed down enough for the storm to catch them. He walked out onto the deck where the group of kids was huddling and addressed them with as much authority as he could in his voice.
“S’gonna get a little rough when the squall hits us. Boat’ll be fine, but you all will have to ride it out up here. There ain’t enough room below for everyone and it’s unnecessary anyway.”
“We’re all going to die out here, aren’t we?” groaned Todd.
Clarice slapped him across the cheek, and Troy was glad to see that maybe the young woman was beginning to see the true nature of her boyfriend.
“Nobody’s gonna die. Just hang on to the rails on the side and stay low. You’re gonna get wet, but in the state yer in, it’ll probably feel pretty good.”
Troy plopped down in his captain’s chair and clicked on his radio. The coast guard was sending out a warning and advising that all craft make their way to shore. They would be sending rescue teams out only in life-threatening situations. Troy glanced at Mel and the old sailor nodded. They both knew that meant things were a little more serious than they had thought.
“Straight line to shore,” Mel said. “Slow and steady will get her home.”
“Meira,” Troy said quietly. “You should go down below. It’s gonna get rough up here.”
“But I don’t want—.”
Mel interrupted her. “Darlin’, this is one time you should probably listen to Troy. Let the salty dogs handle this one. You keep tucked in down below.”
She nodded her head at the old sailor. She swallowed and kissed Troy on the lips, long and hard. With one last hug, she left his side and eased down the steps into the boat.
The ocean was rough. So rough that Troy was reminded of the time he�
�d ridden out the storm in the Gulf of Mexico with his brother, R.B. Hell, that’d been a tropical storm and it didn’t seem this bad. The rain pelted them in hard, knifing sheets and the wind buffeted so hard he thought his sails might tear off and fly into the water. But the boat held strong and they sliced a path through the rumbling skies. Twice, lightning hit the water so close that Troy felt the hair on his arms stand up. He exchanged a look with Mel and for the first time, the old guy looked nervous.
Troy thought about trying to walk up to the front and check on his naked, sunburnt, and now soaked passengers, but the boat rocked so violently, that he thought he might be thrown off. If they weren’t still on board, there would be nothing he could do for them anyway.
His knuckles were white on the wheel as he finally caught site of the shore. He was mentally preparing to beach the boat if need be when the storm finally let up. The wind calmed as they found the shallows and the clouds roared northward in search of more beaches to drown. Troy handed off the wheel to Mel and threw out his secondary anchor. He walked toward the front of the boat and found the group of millennials huddled together looking much like elementary school kids, wet, shivering, tired, and scared. He scanned the waves and saw no sign of his rowboat. The storm must’ve carried it away. Nice, he thought. I was hopin’ for a swim today.
“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Troy told them. “We’re safely in and we’ll get you all back to shore as soon as possible. I’ll have to go in to get a dingy to shuttle you in, so it’ll be a few minutes. Just relax and stay as warm as you can.”
“How will you get there?” Clarice asked him.
“I’ll be swimmin’ in, young lady.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said as she stood up.
Troy was impressed that the young woman could find such courage, being naked, sunburnt, and tired, to join him on a long swim into shore.
“I’m thankful that you’d come,” Troy put a hand on her shoulder. “But I think some of your friends need you more than I do right now.”
She glanced back at them. “I’m not really sure they’re my friends anymore.”
“Don’t be so hard on them,” he said with a wink. “They ain’t as smart as you are. Hang back with them, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The Complete Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Collection Page 101