by L. A. Knight
Olivia swept in from the galley entrance, the millionairess dressed in a scarlet Tony Bowls evening gown, its deep V-cut neckline accentuating her bulging tan breasts, the tiered draped skirt opening up in a side split that revealed her bare left leg and spiked high-heeled shoe.
She kissed Jacob full on the lips, and then turned her attention to Cyril. “I could scratch your eyes out for snagging this baby grizzly from me, but fair is fair. Be a dear and fetch us something to drink.”
Cyril turned to Jacob. “Bourbon, darling?”
Jacob’s eyes flashed a warning. “Ginger ale . . . dear.”
“You two are adorable. Seven and seven for me, Cyril.”
Jacob watched the gay man squeeze his way through the crowd to get outside to the bar. “Olivia, have you spoken to Ruby? I dropped her off at the doctor’s this morning and haven’t heard a thing.”
“She texted me earlier and said she was still waiting to get her test results. Don’t worry about her; I’m sure she’s fine. Before I forget, I have something I want you to wear tonight.” Fishing through her purse, she removed the dive watch and handed it to him. “Consider it a good luck charm.”
“A dive watch? You know, I don’t really dive. Wait . . . is there something wrong with the yacht? Do you think we could sink? Is that why you’re giving me this? So I can find my way back to shore?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous when you suffer from extreme hydrophobia like I do. Sometimes I have to take a Dramamine just to take a shower.”
“You’re hysterical. Save it for the show.”
“The show—Olivia, is there any way you’d let me do my stand-up while we’re still docked? I’d be much more relaxed.”
“Sorry, pet, but the cruise is the best part of the night—except for those lucky guests rocking the boat from their staterooms.” She winked. “Go on, try it on.”
Removing his old watch, Jacob secured the bulkier dive watch to his left wrist. “Feels kind of heavy.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Drinks!” Cyril pushed his way through the crowd. He handed Olivia one of the two drinks in his right hand -- handing the ecstasy-laced soda in his left hand to Jacob. “A toast—to the wild evening ahead.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Olivia clinked her glass.
Jacob gulped down the flat soda, glancing out the tinted window in time to see Nancy ascending a spiral staircase that led to the upper deck.
* * * * *
NANCY CLIMBED THE aluminum steps, seeking to avoid the mid-deck crowd. Occupying the open upper deck were sixty folding chairs, arranged in rows, facing a small stage situated beneath a banner: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRUMAN. She located the guest of honor seated alone in the bow, nursing a beer.
Nancy accepted a glass of champagne from a waitress and joined him. “How are you feeling?”
“Old.” He looked up. “You? What are you doing here?”
“Your daughter invited me. Truman, I’m so sorry about what happened. I don’t want your money, but I still want to help you get together with Carmella.”
“She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. Me she hates.”
“I could make her happy if she’d let me.”
“Not everyone wants to be happy.”She looked around. Night had taken the Intracoastal, tempering the South Florida heat. A few couples were standing by the starboard rail; otherwise the upper deck was deserted. “Where are all your friends?”
“Dead. Just like this party.”
Thunder rattled the air as the yacht’s powerful engines came to life. A horn sounded its warning.
Looking down, she saw a familiar figure hustle past security to make her way on-board. Ruby . . . What’s she doing here?
The blades engaged, churning up the bottom and they lurched ahead, moving steadily through the Intracoastal Waterway, heading out to sea. Nancy inhaled the briny air, the wind tossing strands of blonde hair across her forehead. “Truman, are you cold?”
“I’m eighty-three. That old enough for you?”
“No, no—are you cold? Can I get you a sweater?”
“Nah. Maybe I’ll get lucky and die of pneumonia.”
“I need to warm up. Be back in a bit.” She headed for the pilothouse, pushing open the steel door of the ship’s command center. The captain nodded from behind the wheel, his eyes lingering on her breasts.
“Excuse me, why are we headed out to sea?”
“Only way to get to Fort Lauderdale. Why don’t you sit on my lap and I’ll let you steer the boat.”
“Why don’t you sit on the throttle and go fuck yourself.” She pushed past him, heading below.
* * * * *
JACOB FELT WOOZY and a bit warm. He found himself staring at the pretty lights, which seem to be dancing as they melded together in his vision.
Cyril touched his arm and it felt good. “Somebody need a hug?”
“Yeah.”
Ruby pushed her way between them. Her purple strapless chiffon dress was topped by an ivory jacket, the fabric stretched tight over her breasts.
Jacob stared at the swollen bouncing mounds of flesh, his heart racing. “Ruby Tuesday.”
“Hi, Jacob. Thanks for earlier.”
“Earlier what?”
Cyril winked. “He’s a little buzzed.”
“Jacob, are you drinking? I need you on your ‘A’ game—I invited a booking agent from The Tonight Show.”
“Honey, that’s so exciting.” Cyril leaned in and kissed Jacob on the lips.
From across the crowded stateroom, Nancy spotted her boyfriend seconds before a man in a white tuxedo jacket kissed him passionately. What the hell?
“Cyril, I need to speak with Jacob . . . in private.” Ruby grabbed Jacob by the wrist and dragged the giddy man through the galley and down the grand stairwell that led to the lower deck sleeping quarters.
Nancy pushed through the crowd after them—only to be intercepted by Olivia Cabot.
“Dr. Beach, I’m so glad you made it.” She fake-kissed Nancy, cheek to cheek. “Come with me, I want to introduce you to a dear friend of mine who can get you syndicated in New York and L.A.”
Olivia worked her way aft through the crowded stateroom.
Nancy hesitated, glancing toward the stairs. Screw him. I’m not going to allow another man to cheat on me and ruin my career.
Squeezing through the crowd, she followed her boss to the stern.
* * * * *
RUBY LED JACOB down the carpeted stairwell to a foyer that flowed into a starboard study. A forward corridor separated two V.I.P. suites, the aft corridor leading to three smaller staterooms and the crews’ quarters.
She opened the cabin door to the suite on the starboard side, flipping on the lights. The chamber was decorated in the same cherry wood motif as the rest of the yacht. A king-size bed faced a large flat screen LCD television. The starboard wall was a tinted oval window looking out to sea. A connecting door led to the master bath—all marble, with wood trim.
“Must be enough cherry wood on-board this ship to fill a Pennsylvania forest.” Jacob said, lying back on the bed, his dress pants stretching beneath his hard-on. “Speaking of wood.” Unbuckling his belt, he pulled his trousers down to his knees, exposing his Sponge-Bob Square Pants boxer shorts, which were now animating.
“Jacob, what are you doing?”
“What do you think?”
“Jacob, I didn’t bring you down here to have sex—did you forget our conversation this morning?”
“No. Yeah. Is it getting brighter in here?”
“I brought you down here to talk. Your brother got the test results back from my pap smear.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“What? No.” Her eyes welled-up with tears. “I have uterine cancer.”
“Oh, shit.” Jacob sat up, his suddenly flaccid penis flopping inside his shorts. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad.”
* * * * *
NANCY FOLLOWED OLIVIA through the stateroom and outside to the aft deck bar. Seated on a sofa shaped like a giant lifesaver was a couple in their late thirties. The man was Venezuelan, possessing an athletic physique beneath his ivory suit, his dark hair slicked back into a pony-tail. The woman was his equal, her long platinum-blonde hair pulled into a stylistic weave atop her head, exposing her well-defined shoulders and upper back.
“Dr. Beach, I want you to meet Mercedes Duggan, the producer I told you about, and this is her fiancé, Sebastian Bastidas.”
“Nancy?”
Nancy’s eyes widened in the dim light. “Sebastian?”
Mercedes smiled nervously. “Darling, do you know this woman?”
“You might say that,” Nancy interjected. “Your fiancé and I were engaged two years ago when I found out he was fucking my roommate.”
Instead of reacting, the platinum blonde playfully tugged on Sebastian’s earlobe. “You are such a bastard, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.”
Nancy’s blood boiled. “Yeah? Well he not only fucked her, he got her pregnant!”
“Really?” Olivia said. “Boy or girl?”
“A boy. Little bastard has my eyes.”
Sebastian’s sheepish grin poured gasoline on the fire flowing through Nancy’s veins. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have your dick!”
“Dr. Beach—”
“No, I’m sorry Olivia, but this creep ruined my life. Asshole!”
“Is your life really ruined?” Mercedes asked.
“Yes. No. Not anymore.”
“Would it have been better if you had married Sebastian?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Then his cheating with your roommate turned out to be a blessing . . . yes?”
Nancy felt her cheeks flush. “I suppose.”
Sebastian nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Nancy stomped on his right shoe as hard as she could, the heel of her pump crushing his big toe through the Italian leather.
* * * * *
JACOB HUGGED RUBY, his skin tingling against hers. “When’s the surgery?”
“Monday morning. I’m scared, Jacob.”
“Listen to me. You know how it seems like everyone has that one thing they do very well. Surgery is what my brother does really well. The guy was on-track to become a great brain surgeon when he switched to women’s plumbing after Helen’s mother died of breast cancer. But she didn’t have a surgeon as good as Vince. So don’t be scared, okay?”
“Okay.”
He massaged her shoulders, his hands becoming two spider-like creatures, working their way toward Ruby’s—
“Sweetie, what are you doing?”
“Feeling fig newtonie.”
“What?”
“Remember that old commercial jingle? Ewwie gooey, rich and chewy inside. Golden flaky-bakey on the outside . . .”
Ruby pushed him away. “That little shit, Cyril—I bet he slipped something in your drink.”
“I need to suck on something. Can I suck on your lips? They look eewie-gooey.” Jacob tried to kiss her, only Ruby ducked away. She didn’t get far – Jacob’s watch catching on her strapless dress, causing her left breast to flop out—just as the cabin door opened.
Nancy covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”
Jacob smiled stupidly. “Nancy, hi. This is Ruby and this is Ruby’s tit. We had an itty bitty titty of a wardrobe malfunction.”
Disgusted, Nancy backed away, slamming the door shut.
“Your girlfriend?”
“She was.”
Ruby repositioned her breast, and then slapped Jacob hard across his face. “Sober yet?”
“No, but my face hurts . . . ow.”
“Go after her!”
“And say what?”
“Apologize, Jacob.”
“For what? Never mind.” Jacob ran out of the stateroom—
ZAP!
He collapsed in a heap, his legs twitching.
Olivia helped him up. “Darling, are you all right?”
“What happened?”
“You must have tripped. Come with me, your head is bleeding.” She led him across the passage to the portside master stateroom—a gaudy bedroom with ropes around the bedposts and sexual devices adorning the walls.
Olivia hit a switch, causing music to play, the cabin darkening with mood lighting.
The music pulsated in Jacob’s veins, the lights melding into pools of colors in his eyes. “I . . . I should go.”
Olivia shut the door, the dress slipping off her shoulders.
Jacob glanced out the tinted window. He saw Nancy by the guard rail, hailing a water taxi. “I have to go—” He struggled to rise off the bed . . .
ZAP! He went down again, the colors in his vision sizzling like fireworks.
Olivia straddled him. “Cyril thinks he’s so clever—I knew you weren’t gay.”
Jacob flung her off his waist onto the floor. He made it to the door when . . .
ZAP! He was suddenly on the floor, his legs rubber.
“Stud-muffin, I’m gonna ride you until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.”
The cabin door was forcibly opened, smashing him in the head.
It was Truman.
“Another rabbit, caught in your trap, eh Olivia?” Reaching down, he grabbed Jacob by his jacket collar and dragged him to his feet. “Go find your girlfriend before you lose her.”
Jacob nodded, then rushed out of the cabin and up the stairs—in time to see Nancy speed away in a water taxi. Distraught, he glanced across the dark waterway.
They were back in the Intracoastal, cruising at ten knots past the private docks and yards of luxury homes—land a good hundred yards away across a forbidding, dark chop.
Cyril joined him, holding an inflatable life vest. “Sorry about the ecstasy, but you’ll need it to overcome your fear.”
“You think I’m swimming at night? In that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on how much you like the girl.”
Still a bit high, Jacob removed his tux jacket, his heart pounding as he slipped his arms through the vest, securing it around his waist.
Cyril yanked on the cord, inflating the vest. He leaned in, pursing his lips. “For luck.”
Jacob punched him in the mouth. “Thanks for a wonderful evening.” Climbing over the rail, he jumped from the moving vessel.
He sank into thundering blackness. For a frightening moment he was caught in the suction of the passing yacht, dragged deep underwater.
Somewhere in this maelstrom of panic his consciousness latched onto a memory.
“Fears actually create what we’re afraid of. It’s always the guy who’s afraid of amputees that runs into a VA hospital. The people who are afraid of flying—those are the ones who always find themselves on the planes experiencing turbulence. Fear manifests a negative energy field that brings the actual situation to life. When you panic you’ve shut yourself off from God. Instead of drowning in fear, focus your mind on swimming to the solution.”
Swim asshole!
Jacob kicked and paddled against the current—his head breaking the surface in time to be washed over by the yacht’s wake. He gagged and fought his way to another breath even as he looked around frantically to make sure there were no other boats bearing down on him.
Sharks . . .Olivia said my head was bleeding!
Shut-up and swim!
He targeted the pier of a restaurant and started swimming, no longer afraid.
DOG TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE
LESSON FOURTEEN: UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
The water taxi had taken Nancy to a restaurant where she had caught a cab back to the Bridge Hotel to get her car, burning through an entire Adele CD on the drive home.
It was after ten by the time she keyed into her house—only to be bulldozed by Sam. Enraged, she dragged the dog into the kitchen by its cinch collar, tossing the German Shepherd out back. �
�I don’t need you in my life anymore either!”
Entering her bedroom, she stripped off the cocktail dress and donned her running clothes.
The dog leapt at the sliding glass door, demanding to go with her.
“Forget it!”
She grabbed her house key and stormed out the front door, her mind replaying the events of the last two hours. After a minute sprint, she settled into a steady pace, her jog fueled by anger.
How did I allow the dog up on the couch this time, Lana? I held the leash tight, kept Jacob in total control, gave him wild sex . . .and he still cheated on me!
Rounding the block, she continued on a second lap.
Lean in . . . Be in control – bullshit! There is no control. Who we’re born to . . . who raises us . . .who lies to us . . . who gets cancer. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about her father.
Nancy slowed. It was late, the night quiet. She reached the end of the block and continued running.
Push through the pain. The only thing we can control is ourselves. Like you have any control . . .big hypocrite. Ratings, job, boyfriends, birth parents . . .it’s all bullshit. Life is bullshit.
* * * * *
TWO BLOCKS WEST, an unmarked police car drove slowly through the neighborhood, its lights off. The cop riding shotgun signaled his partner to pull over to the curb behind a 2005 Buick LeSabre. “This vehicle wasn’t here ten minutes ago. Let’s run the plates.”
* * * * *
IN THE BACKYARD, Sam whined, pacing nervously by the fence. The dog was agitated by a familiar smell in the air.
* * * * *
NANCY APPROACHED THE end of another block, the sidewalk disappearing behind a seven foot hedge. Still moving at a brisk pace, she followed the path—startled by a cat that jumped out from behind the row of shrubs. Her heart beating wildly, she stopped and bent over, smiling at her own fear—
—her hair suddenly tearing from her scalp as she was forcibly dragged backwards through the bushes, her skull bludgeoned by an object that flooded her vision with blinking purple lights.
Nancy opened her eyes, confused. She was on her back in the wet grass, the night sky spinning, her skull throbbing.
She felt her assailant before she saw him – he was straddling her hips, his weight pressing down on top of her, his red buzz-cut familiar beneath the dark hood of his running suit.