She was feeling low; on a rational level, she knew that it was a backlash from the coke. She'd kept herself on a pleasant high for the last few days while they had been looking for crew positions; now Jimmy had cut her off.
He said it was to keep Connie from kicking them off the boat, but she knew he just did it to be mean. She could snort a couple of lines every so often and Connie would be none the wiser. This was going to be a long dry spell. She had to figure something out. She could find his stash; there weren't too many places it could be. If she did, though, she'd have to cover her tracks. She shuddered at the thought of what he would do to her if he caught her sneaking hits.
Maybe she could take half of it; cut what was left with sugar or something so he wouldn't miss it. She could tell he had the hots for Connie. Maybe she could help that along. If he was distracted by trying to get in Connie's pants, he'd be less likely to notice what she was up to.
The problem with that was that she liked Connie; she really didn't want to get her mixed up with him. Connie projected the kind of confidence that Kirsten wished she could muster. If she were strong like Connie, she could kick this coke thing and ditch Jimmy.
She yawned and looked at the time on the GPS display at the top of the steering pedestal. She stood up and scanned the horizon. She saw nothing except the lights from a freighter that had passed going in the opposite direction a few minutes ago.
She'd go below and put on a kettle of water. By the time it was hot, she could wake Jimmy and give him a cup of coffee. She'd make herself a cup of the herbal tea she'd bought when she and Connie were in the grocery store.
* * *
Chapter 6
Jimmy was fighting to stay awake. He'd only had a couple of hours of sleep when that bitch Kirsten stuck a cup of coffee under his nose and woke him up. Who the hell could go to sleep at eight o'clock in the evening, anyway?
This Connie was a real hard-ass. They coulda stopped somewhere for the night, but no, she wanted to go all the way to Norfolk. That's okay. Once they were at sea, she'd be stuck with them. Then he could straighten her ass out, all right. He looked forward to that. He'd never had a Mexican before, and she was one hot babe.
All he had to do was keep that dumb-ass junkie, Kirsten, from messing things up for a couple more days. She had crashed hard yesterday. Served her right; spoiled bitch. "I can quit any time I want to," he mumbled under his breath, mocking her.
He looked around, studying Diamantista. He ran his fingertips along the smooth, varnished teak of the cockpit coaming. It felt like he imagined the skin along the inside of Connie's thigh would feel. He smiled as he felt a stirring in his crotch. A few more days, and he could find out. Meanwhile, he'd just keep giving her the look; he knew that would make her hot after a while. It always worked.
This was some kind of fine boat she had. Where the hell would a Mexican girl Connie's age get the money for something like this? He wondered if she was maybe hooked up with one of them Mexican cartel bosses, or something. She looked good enough.
If she was, he'd be better off not messing with her. That gave him pause for a moment. This didn't seem like the kind of thing one of them would let his woman do, though. She'd most likely kept some rich old fart company and inherited his money. That was more likely. If that was how she got her money, she'd probably be ready for a young stud like him to help her make up for lost time.
****
Connie glanced at her wristwatch in the gray light that filtered through the porthole over her berth. It was 6 a.m. She'd had six hours of sleep; she might as well get up and see how Jimmy was coping with his first watch.
She stopped in the galley before going up on deck and made herself a cup of coffee. As an afterthought, she made a second cup and put it in a thermal mug. If Jimmy didn't want it, she'd drink it. She was going to be awake for a while.
She took the coffee and climbed into the cockpit, noticing as she came out of the companionway that Jimmy was slumped behind the helm, snoring. Angry, she set the coffee down and made a visual sweep of the horizon. They were well into the lower Chesapeake Bay, out of sight of land. There were no other vessels in sight, and the autopilot had kept them running parallel to the ship channel, just as she had intended.
She considered how to handle this. If she were Dani Berger, she'd give him a vicious chewing out -- maybe even slap him around a bit. Thinking of Dani brought a smile to her face. Her style wasn't Dani's. She could put in at Norfolk and try to find another couple, but then she'd miss the weather window. Besides, Norfolk wasn't as good a spot as Annapolis to find pick-up crew.
She'd checked the weather before she turned in last night and made her decision; she was going to skip Norfolk. She'd talk to Kirsten about it. They could alternate checking on Jimmy every hour or so during their off watches to be sure he stayed awake. Once everybody got into the rhythm of the watches, it would be less of a problem. Also, there wouldn't be much traffic to worry about once they were across the Gulf Stream.
She stepped back behind the helm and reached down, putting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder and shaking him. He jerked awake and rose to his full height, grabbing her upper arms in a painful grip as he tried to wake up. Remembering her self-defense skills, she thrust both hands up between his forearms, every muscle in her upper body and legs behind the movement as she knocked his arms aside and stepped back out of his reach.
"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You startled me; I don't like it when somebody touches me when I'm sleeping."
"I don't like it when the man I've trusted with my boat goes to sleep on watch, either, so I guess we're even." She turned and retrieved the coffee, offering him a cup.
He took it, raising it to his lips and sipping carefully. "Sorry I dozed off; I couldn't get to sleep last night. I'll do better."
Connie nodded. "I'm counting on it." She took a sip of her own coffee, inhaling the heady aroma.
"Is it already eight o'clock?" Jimmy asked.
"No. It's around 6:30. You're on duty for a while yet."
"Just checking up on me, huh?"
"Yes, that's right. If you're awake, I'm going back below. I've got to check our position and get an updated forecast."
"Okay. So how long until we hit Norfolk?"
"I've decided to skip Norfolk, unless the forecast has changed. We've got a perfect shot to make our easting over the next few days. I don't want to miss it."
"What does 'make our easting' mean?"
"It's a phrase from the days of sail. It means getting far enough east in the northern latitudes so that we don't have to fight the trade winds to hold a course to the islands."
"You ain't just pretty to look at, you know? You got some smarts, too."
Connie locked eyes with him and glared until he looked away. She continued to stare at him, watching as his discomfort built. He took another sip of coffee and sat down behind the helm. "Try to stay awake this time," she said, turning and going below.
****
By mid-afternoon, they had the seemingly endless span of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel in sight, and a moderate breeze was filling in from the southwest as they got farther away from the protection of the western shore. They had secured the engine and raised the sails an hour ago, enjoying the silence after listening to the rumble of the engine for almost 24 hours straight. Everyone was in the cockpit. Connie had the helm and Kirsten and Jimmy were taking turns studying the 23-mile-long structure through the binoculars.
"That's really somethin'," Jimmy said, as he handed the binoculars to Kirsten. "That break in the bridge where the ships go through ... that's where the tunnel is?"
"That's right," Connie said. "In another hour or so, we'll go through and you can get a close-up look. It's kind of weird to watch the cars and trucks. It looks like they just drive into those big blocks of whatever that mark the beginning of the tunnel and disappear."
"Did you ever drive through the tunnel?" Kirsten asked.
"No," Connie replied. "Did you?"
"That'll stop once we get through the bridge, right?" Jimmy asked, looking uncomfortable.
"No, we'll have that motion until we get to the Virgins," Connie said. "You okay? You look a little queasy."
"Me?" Jimmy asked. "Nah, I'm all right. Maybe that lunch didn't set so well with me."
"There's Dramamine, if either of you needs it," Connie said.
"I'm fine," Kirsten remarked. "Once we got the sails up and shut the engine off, I felt right at home. I didn't realize how much I missed this."
"How long since you've sailed?" Connie asked.
"It's been years since I sailed like this. Racing dinghies isn't the same. I mean, it's sailing, but ..."
Jimmy shoved her to the side and hung his head over the downwind lifelines, heaving painfully until there was nothing left in his stomach. He sat back down where Kirsten had been.
"Are you ..." Connie was interrupted as he leapt up and leaned over the side again.
When he was finished, he said, "I'm not feelin' so good. I'm gonna lie down for a minute."
"That's probably not a good idea, Jimmy," Kirsten said.
"Just shut up," he grumbled, staggering to the companionway and disappearing below decks.
Connie shook her head. "He's out for a while. Looks like it'll just be the two of us until he gets his sea legs."
"Big Navy man," Kirsten giggled.
"The motion's a lot different on a big ship, I imagine, but I know people get sick on them, too. I'm surprised he didn't say something about being prone to seasickness. It's too late for Dramamine now. I would have expected that he'd know after his Navy experience. If he's seasick in this, he's going to die once we get offshore."
"Oh, well, he'll get over it in a day or two," Kirsten said. "Meanwhile, we can enjoy sailing without mister macho."
"How long have you been together?" Connie asked.
"Well, um ...,"
"Sorry. I don't mean to pry. I was just making conversation."
"No, that's okay. Really. It's just, I hadn't, like, thought of us being 'together,' like, you know?"
Connie nodded.
"It just kind of happened, I guess," Kirsten said.
"Sometimes it's like that," Connie said. "Were you in school together?"
"Oh, no. Jimmy worked on campus. He was, like, a handyman, kinda. That's where I met him. How about you?"
"Me? What about me?"
"Is there a man in your life?"
"Oh," Connie said, pausing to think about that. "Not really. I ended a bad relationship a few years ago, and I've been on my own since then."
"I can't imagine going without a guy around for years," Kirsten said. "I'd climb the walls if I didn't have somebody to, to ..."
Connie laughed. "I used to be the same way when I was your age. I guess I look at it a little differently, now. I'd like to get it right the next time, you know?"
"You mean, like, mate for life?"
"I think so. At least, if I take up with another man, it has to have that possibility. I'm tired of the guys looking for another notch on the bedpost. After I got free of the last jerk, I decided to take it slow. It'll happen, or not. Meanwhile, there's life to live, you know?"
"Yeah. That's cool. I mean, you're, like, really lucky to be able to live like this, with this nice boat and everything."
"I am indeed. I just discovered sailing in the last year. I have two friends who run a charter yacht down in the islands. That's where I got the idea. I'd been just taking it easy since I split up with my ex, and I was bored, so I decided to give it a whirl. I've got a guy lined up to help me who's a first-rate cook and an experienced sailor, too, but he can't join me for a few weeks yet."
"He hot?"
Connie laughed. "Maybe so. He's pretty cute. He's older, though, and he's kind of in the same mode I'm in as far as romance is concerned."
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence as the big boat sliced cleanly through the swells and made her way past the Bridge-Tunnel and into the open water. Connie looked over to see Kirsten with her legs stretched out on the cockpit seat. Her arms were draped along the lifelines behind her; her head was back, eyes closed, a smile on her face as she enjoyed the last bit of warmth from the late-afternoon sun.
"Kirsten?"
"Yes?"
"Why don't you go below? Check on Jimmy and then get some rest. I'll call you in around three hours. We can just trade off until Jimmy gets over his mal de mer."
"Okay. You want anything to eat before I crash?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. Just hand me up one of those fruit yogurts that we bought. That'll hold me for a while."
* * *
Chapter 7
Kirsten passed Connie's yogurt up through the companionway. As she dropped back below deck, she held onto the handrail of the ladder for a moment, waiting until she grew accustomed to the difference in the boat's motion. The swells were much larger now than they had been when they passed the Bay Bridge-Tunnel.
Given the course they were steering, the motion wasn't abrupt, but it was constant. The changes in direction as the boat rolled were sudden, and they seemed more violent below deck than in the open. It was enough to make walking through the open space of the main cabin treacherous.
Kirsten was careful to always have a solid handhold before committing to take a step. She worked her way to the forward double stateroom which she had been sharing with Jimmy. He was sprawled across the queen-sized bed, rolling sluggishly from one side to the other as the boat shifted.
She knew from her time sailing with her father that this forward berth was the least stable, most uncomfortable place to sleep at sea, but Jimmy was unconscious. She decided that she didn't care whether he recovered from his seasickness or not.
She was enjoying her one-on-one time with Connie; she hadn't had a female friend since she'd dropped out of college. Jimmy wasn't a stimulating companion; his only attraction was that he had access to coke, which made up for some of his other faults.
Once she established that he was not about to wake up, she began to search through his duffle bag looking for his stash. She found his baggie of grass, complete with a couple of joints already rolled, stuffed inside a dirty sock.
While he smoked marijuana regularly, he wouldn't touch coke; he was vocal in his view that it was a sucker's drug. "I should know," he'd say. "I've sold enough of the shit and seen what it does to people."
As she plundered his bag, he rolled over and groaned. Startled, she shoved the duffle bag behind the door, which was held open by a hook that left about a foot of space behind it. "You okay, babe?" she asked, touching his clammy cheek.
When he didn't respond, she returned to her search. In his shaving kit, she found a Ziploc bag of the white crystals that she sought. She put the duffle bag back together and took her treasure to the galley. Checking over her shoulder to make sure Connie was still at the helm, she opened the clear plastic bag.
Bracing herself against the rolling of the boat, she scooped up a trace of coke with the nail of her right little finger and resealed the bag. She closed her eyes in anticipation and raised the fingernail to her nose, snorting. Her eyes watered and she stifled a violent sneeze.
She put the bag in her pocket and leaned back against the counter, waiting for the rush. When she felt the lift leveling out, she opened her eyes and took a new small Ziploc bag from one of the galley lockers. She took the bag of coke from her pocket and shook about half of the contents into the new bag. She sealed the new bag and put it in her pocket.
Opening one of the canisters that was secured to the galley bulkhead, she dropped several pinches of sugar into the original bag, shaking it to mix it and settle it. Satisfied that her theft couldn't be detected, she closed the sugar canister and made her way back to the forward stateroom.
Jimmy hadn't moved except for rolling with the motion of the boat. She put the bag of coke back in his shaving kit a
nd returned his duffle bag to the locker where she'd found it. She went back into the main cabin, where she loosened the waistband of her jeans and took off her shoes before stretching out on the settee on the leeward side of the boat.
Jimmy could roll around in the big queen-sized berth by himself. She knew that amidships on the downwind side of the boat would be the place with the least motion. As she drifted off to sleep, she was imagining what it would be like to work charters on Diamantista as Connie's cook.
****
Connie was enjoying her early evening watch. She knew she should be tired, but the excitement of the first day at sea was better than any stimulant she'd ever experienced. Her decisions were made; her worry about crew behind her. She was stuck with them now, and they with her. They'd just have to deal with the friction.
She had enjoyed her conversation with Kirsten. Jimmy was a problem, but she knew from years of dealing with people in the business world that working relationships were rarely smooth. She did wonder whether to take his clumsy flirting seriously or whether he was just trying to get under her skin for some reason.
She resolved to bring it up with Kirsten the next time she had a chance; after all, Kirsten was the one he was with at the moment. She should be able to assess his intentions.
Whichever way he intended his remarks, Connie knew she'd have to put a stop to them, and sooner rather than later. Allowing that sort of behavior to go unchecked would inevitably lead to trouble. Maybe Kirsten could help her sort him out.
After steering for a few minutes and getting a feel for the vessel's attitude through the helm, she decided the sails were trimmed well enough. She engaged the autopilot, setting it to steer a course relative to the wind. It wasn't critical to maintain a precise compass course at this stage of the trip; keeping the boat speed up was what mattered now.
Love for Sail Page 4