by Ellie Rowe
It’s Captain Green scarf. And he looks royally pissed.
Twenty
Hank
What the hell is she doing?
I had the captain eating out of the palm of my hand. When headed for (I thought) the head, I ramped up the charm with the captain. The guy was so close to spilling his guts about where we were headed. Which would allow me to figure out where we were. Which meant I would know how to get us home. Because I was about twenty minutes away from Veronica and I being able to make a break for the motorboat and get the fuck out of here.
Instead, before I get to any of that, the captain gets suspicious about what’s taking Veronica so long. He gets up to check on her despite my insistence that she’s fine, maybe it’s taking a little longer ‘cause it’s that time of the month or something, and then what happens?
Then shouting starts coming from the bridge. I’ve only known Veronica a day or two, but I’m certain that the only person who could be making the captain that angry is her.
I hurl my napkin onto the table and race for the bridge. Veronica’s got the radio in her hand. Green Scarf has his gun trained on her and is shouting at her. This lady really has an effect on people.
Who is she trying to radio? I think about her first SOS call, the non-emergency. Maybe she’s just got some sort of radio fetish? Like a kid who loves using his CB to reach out to truckers? Whatever her obsession is with putting out calls into the ether, this time it could get us killed.
Green Scarf looks like he’s going to have a conniption. “What were you doing?” he shouts at her. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing! Nothing! Just hold on!” she pleads with him, her hands in the air.
Time for ol’ Hank to come to the rescue again, I guess.
“And… cut!” I shout over them both. In return, I get two looks of utter confusion. “OK, Veronica, good take. How did that feel?”
She stares at me like I’m speaking in tongues. The captain’s anger at Veronica gives way to suspicion toward me. I smile at him, put an arm around his shoulders. I hold out my hand toward Veronica in a gesture of admiration. “She’s really come a long way as an actress, am I right? She even got you to believe her.” I needle him playfully in the ribs.
Veronica’s eyes widen. The question behind them is, What’re you doing?
I shoot my eyes back at her. The direction behind them is, Play along.
Then I take the radio from her and return it to the unit. “Good job on getting those lines down.”
I watch her catch on. Better late than never. “Oh, yeah!” she says. “That was a great acting exercise. Thank you.”
“Didn’t I tell you, sometimes the only way to see if you really know the lines is to do them in a real-life situation. I wish I’d known you were planning to do it now.” I added through gritted teeth.
“Well, y’know. The inspiration just struck me all of a sudden,” she improvises.
I shrug at Green Scarf. “Actresses.”
Green Scarf lowers his gun, but not his guard. “She was… practicing for a part in a movie?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, man.” I smack my head. “I didn’t tell you yet.” I go back to stand with him. I make a rectangle like a camera lens with my two hands and train it on Veronica. “I’ve cast Veronica to be in my next picture.”
“Your next picture?”
“Pretty cool, right?”
“What is it called?”
“What is it called?” I repeat stupidly. I look at Veronica, who stares blankly back at me. Never a helping hand when you need one. “It’s called The Sailor Lady on the Radio,” I tell him.
Green Scarf wrinkles his nose. “That is a stupid title.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just a working title we’re using for now. The marketing folks at the studio will come up with something more commercial once it’s finished. Anyway,” I plough ahead, “Veronica’s going to be a star, don’t you think?”
The captain eyes her, then leans toward me and mutters, “She is too smart for a leading lady, no?”
I try not to giggle at the look of rage that comes across Veronica’s face. “Well, it’s a movie aimed at a more mature audience,” I concede to the captain. I’ll probably pay for that later. It’s worth it.
“Also,” the captain points out, “she is a travel writer, not an actress.”
“Yeah, well, she’s playing a travel writer in the movie. I wanted to go for authenticity. Some things you can’t act, you just have to know in your bones.”
“Like me,” the captain says. “If there are pirates in the movie, I should play one.”
“Absolutely. You know, we’ll talk about with The Union and see what we can do. But as for Veronica, you’re right, she’s still new to the intricacies of the movie business.” I shoot Veronica a look so she knows what I’m really saying is, You’re really screwing things up. To the captain, I add, “Which is why I’ve been insisting that she work on those lines. Which is what you caught her doing.”
Finally, Veronica joins the charade. “Oh, Hank, it was incredible!” she raves. It’s a little much and I worry the captain is going to realize there’s no chance this lady’s an actress. Then she adds, pointedly, “Doing it this way was much better than just doing it with you.”
She always gives as good as she gets.
“Well, that’s nice to know,” I respond innocently. “Maybe this casting will work out after all.”
“I do have some questions about the rest of the cast,” she says. Can we get out of here? her eyes plead.
“Yes, of course,” I say, my double meaning clear to her. “We can discuss that at another time. I’m sure the captain doesn’t want to hear about it.” I turn to Green Scarf. “So. We all good here?”
He finally starts to look convinced, but it’s clear he still has his doubts. “You were not radioing for help?” he asks Veronica.
“Nope. I never even pushed the talk button on the thing.”
“She had you fooled, huh?” I tease the captain. “Guess she’s a better actress than even I realized.”
“Yes… very good.”
Something else occurs to me. “By the way, let me ask you, what did you think of the script?”
The captain hesitates before saying, “I did not hear everything perfectly. I heard her voice from the bridge and came to find her on the radio. But, I do not know exactly everything she said.”
“That’s too bad, captain.” I say even as I think, Thank God for that. If he didn’t hear her on the radio, then we might actually pull off this high-wire act. “Tell you what,” I go on, hoping to seal the deal on this latest escape, “I’ll get you the pages. It’d be great to have your expert input on the script.”
His face lights up at that. “Really? You would let me do that?”
“Sure, man. You’ll bring a really authentic perspective to it. Maybe we’ll get you a cameo in it and everything.”
“Yes, yes. That would be very nice!”
Hook, line, and sinker.
I clap my hands loudly. “OK! Well, I’m stuffed and I think we got some good work in for the day. Captain, thanks for the meal. Veronica, you and I should probably go back to our room and keep working on that big scene.”
“You’re the director,” she says. How about that? Nice of her to finally give me some credit.
I take her hand. We head off the bridge and duck belowdecks before anyone can ask any questions. “I’ll get you those pages,” I call over my shoulder to the captain as we go.
Another messy scrape avoided thanks to the ol’ acting chops of cinema’s own Hank Wilder! I kind of wish the Oscar Academy could have seen my performance. They’ve always preferred West’s work to mine. But you know what? I’d like to see West fucking Joilet pull off a scene like that!
As we descend the stairs toward the cabins, I hiss at Veronica. “What is it with you and radios anyway?”
“I was trying to call for help,” she hisses back.
“
Of course you were, it’s your favorite pastime. I’ll tell ya, if this is what you’re like around a radio, I’d sure hate to see your cell phone bill.”
She yanks her hand out of mine and I can tell she’s about to lay into me. Her second favorite pastime.
So I kiss her. The fire leaves her eyes. “I’m glad you’re OK,” I say.
“You know I’d never be in one of your stupid movies, right?”
“I wouldn’t cast you in one in a million years.”
We share a smile, another moment of tenderness in this life-or-death predicament we’re sharing. Then we dip back into the relative safety of the cabin.
Twenty-One
Veronica
“If you’re waiting for me to say thank you again it’s not gonna fucking happen.” I roll my eyes at Hank. He’s acting like my sneaking off to call for help was actually a bad plan. Okay, I’ll admit, it wasn’t the most thought out plan. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment plan, but since I’ve never taken a course in “how to survive a pirate hostage situation” I’m not beating myself up about it.
Hank just shrugs and gives me that stupid smile I’ve come to hate less than before. We were even able to nap peacefully beside one another after calming down from yet another sticky situation. A situation he did get us out of. Sort of brilliantly. Even with that ‘aging actress’ comment.
A nap was definitely one of our brighter ideas, especially since we kept each other awake for quite some time last night. Besides reviewing the same old information on the whereabouts of the motorboat and how it’s tethered and all the same old rehashing, we’ve drawn a blank. There wasn’t much else to do but sleep.
“I hate being cramped down here without sunlight. You never know what goddamn time it is.” Hank grumbles as he stretches out in his chair. “If it’s dinner time, and you’re nice to me, I’ll see if they can grill us up some of the steaks I got locked away in the back freezer.”
“I’ve had quite enough red meat thank you.” I reply dryly which makes him grin even more.
“Now I know you don’t mean that.” He starts to sit up from his chair, his dark eyes locked on my little khaki shorts. But a loud knocking sound makes us both jump.
“What the hell was that?” I look around wildly. Shit there it is again. “What, are there warring pirates?” Suddenly there’s a loud clamor of giggling from near our door and we can hear the muffled voices of the crew.
“No no no you fool it is through this door! No this door!” The lock on our door gets twisted open and Hank jumps up in front of me. He’s got a nasty habit of that, but I’ll chide him for his chauvinist bullshit later.
The door flies open to reveal the young kid and another cronie and oh my sweet pirate jesus they are fucking drunk.
“Sorrybouthat!” One of them slurs. “Juss looking for the rest of the booze.” The young kid chimes in.
“Thanks For all the stuff Mr. Hank. We’re having a great time!” He gives Hank a toothy thumbs up before the crony slaps the kid on the back and whispers something in his ear about the wrong door.
“Okay goodbye now Mr. Hank!” They yell on top of one another, and with that they slam the door shut again and race off down the hall giggling like mad. Hank is frozen to the spot and for a second, I’m afraid they’ve somehow hurt him.
“Hank…?” I reach for his arm and he turns to face me, dumbstruck.
“Those little bastards got into my private stash!” You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s somehow turned into a mind reader because he takes one look at my face and gets all huffy. “That’s my best stuff ,Veronica, that’s a salary worth of hooch, good hooch that they’re guzzling down their filthy throats!”
If this were an animated flick, he’d have steam coming out of his ears. It’s actually kind of funny. I’m about to remind Hank what a privileged whiny child he is when a thought strikes me.
“Hank.”
“They’re up there getting shit-faced, raiding my best stuff—”
“Hank.” I repeat a little louder this time.
“Bet they don’t even know it’s for sipping not slamming—”
“HANK.” I grab his collar and pull his face down to mine. Well that got his attention. His eyes are immediately blackened with lust and looking down I see a familiar rise in his pants. “Easy tiger.” I laugh and release him. “You’re missing the big picture.”
I put my thumbs and finger together in a square like he so rudely did to me.
“They’re shit-faced. Stumbling, slurring, tripping over themselves drunk.” Hank still looks at me blankly. I think his brain’s waiting for the blood to rush back upwards.
“They’re incapacitated Hank. Now’s our chance.” Finally, something registers in him like the bell from the Price is Right. He wastes no time in springing to action.
“I don’t think those chumps were sober enough to close the door right...” He steps back and before I can tell him it’s a stupid plan, he kicks the door down with all his might and it busts open, bending at the part where the lock didn’t quite make it back in place.
Okay that was fucking hot. Now my blood rushes elsewhere. Hank is clearly pleased with himself but trying to ‘act like he’s been there’. I watch him breathe, looking for any signs of injury but he seems alright. He turns to me with a meaningful look in his eye.
“Let’s Do This.” He says and reaches for my hand.
“I hate you.”
We peek out the door, but there’s no sign of pirates. Just a trail of empty booze bottles leading up to the deck. We take to the stairs keeping an eye out for any sober wanderers. The sounds of a raucous party are prevalent but it sounds closer to the front of the boat. For fuck’s sake, is that T-Pain?
Hank stops in his tracks and I barrel into the back of him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t made of solid muscle. Just the scent of him so close to me reminds me of scraping my nails across his shoulder blades. Fuck Veronica focus on the task at hand please?
“What’re you doing you?” The pirate slurs, barely grasping the bottle in his hand. “You’re not s’posed to be on top here.” The pirate’s eyes are stern and he starts to paw around his belt for the pistol. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
“What’re ya mean!” Hank roars and pats the guy on the shoulder sloppily. “We’ve been partying all night!” Hank pulls me to his side and slings his arm around me, almost crushing me with his weight. He eyes me with a look that once again says play along.
The pirate grins and points to Hank.
“You’re the man!”
“You’re the man!” Hank repeats poking the pirate in the shoulder and laughing along with him. I muster up a drunken giggle that I know won’t be winning me an Oscar any time soon.
“Ooo we’re thirsty my man!” Hank flicks at the bottle in the pirate’s hand. “You’re all empty there pal! What’re ya drinking? We’ll have what you’re having!”
The pirate holds his bottle up to his eye, and when nothing comes out, he looks back to Hank as if he’s revealed a magic trick.
“Why don’t you grab the lady and I a drink huh?”
“One bottle for Mr. Hank Wilder and Mrs. Travel Writer coming up!” He yells and dashes off down the steps for more booze.
Goddamnit. This jackass is the most valuable escape plan I’ve ever met. How many tight spots have we been in that he’s been able to charm his way out of? We should have been dead a few times over. But here we stand, alive and in one piece.
Well. Hank’s shirt is still torn. A not so gentle reminder that I’ve been the cause of quite a few of our tight spots. Looking at him now I can’t help but be overwhelmed by gratitude. This man didn’t know me from adam. He didn’t care (and frankly didn’t know) that I was a famous travel writer.
He just helped me. Saved me. Stepped up for me. I grab his collar and spin him to face me crushing my lips against his. He holds me back with the same fervor until I break us apart.
“You know we don’t have to pretend to be drunk anymore
sweetheart.” He smiles, his lips still hovering over mine. I decide to ignore that remark and hold on to my fleeting gratitude.
“Let’s go.” He’s a little dazed but he takes my hand and we race to the back of the yacht where the motorboat is tied up. We’ll have to take the ladder down but it’s only a few feet of water before we’re at the front of the pirate’s ship.
We manage to make it over the side without drawing any more attention. The sound of the party still raging gives me hope that this time we may just win. The water’s a lot warmer than I thought and though this is my first major ocean voyage, I’m a damn fine swimmer thank you very much.
Not that we were racing, but I did reach the pirate boat first. Though I’m not sure Hank’s ever had to play a marine biologist or a merman before. I take hold of the rusted ladder on the side of the ship and pray it doesn’t make some piercing squeak as we scramble up the side.
“Not a bad view.” Hank whispers up to me, his face inches from my ass as I hit the last rung and climb over the side. Unbelievable.
“Not the time you baboon.” I hiss as I grab his arm and help him on deck. I find a knife and Hank quickly saws at the rope towing the pirate ship behind the yacht. For once I’m grateful they’re such a murderous scary bunch. There’s pointy shit everywhere on this ship.
We don’t want to make too much noise so Hank and I both grab an oar and start rowing, hoping we can put enough distance between us and the yacht before we crank the motor up. When we’re far enough out Hank gives me a nod.
“Ready?” He asks as he takes to the wheel.
“Fire her up.”
Twenty-Two
Hank
“Hahaha!” When I finally allow myself to make sound, my joy erupts in ebullient laughter.
We’re a dozen miles away from my (former?) yacht. The Let’s Do This is now a speck on the horizon. Her lights are like a distant, low-hung star. The sound of the party is replaced by the vastness of night on the ocean, the roar of our captured vessel’s motor, and then our own throaty cheers.