Capsized

by Julie Cannon

  I loved my house. I’d bought it, remodeled, and furnished it after Ariel. It had taken me years to get it the way I wanted it, and it was my retreat, my energy source, and my place. I expected to be glad to be home, have my things, my own clothes, sleep in my own bed, and take a thirty-minute shower if I wanted to. This was my home, but it didn’t quite feel like it. I felt a little detached, like I was just a visitor in a familiar place. My water was too hot, my clothes too restrictive, and my bed too big and lonely.

  Maria and Mark had arranged to have a Welcome Home party for me, which was the very last thing I wanted or needed. I was sad to have left a great group of people, and I was having a hard-enough time coming to grips with the fact that I probably would never see them again. I guess it was like mourning a loss.

  My friends and employees were thrilled to see me and wanted to hear every detail. They, like Maria, preconceived Bert’s crew as a bunch of belly-scratching, beer-drinking, fart-and-belch guys that were one step down from low class. After correcting that impression about a dozen times, I gave up. No way could I describe the crew in ten words or less. It took me weeks to learn about them, and then I’d only scratched the surface of who they were. I liked and respected every single one of them. And then there was Bert.

  No way could I adequately describe Bert the way I saw her. No way could I, nor did I want to. My relationship with her was mine, and I wasn’t going to share, not even with my BFF Rachel.

  “Come on, Al,” Rachel said one evening shortly after I returned. We were having wings and beer at a local dive we both loved. “What was she like? Was she a bitch? A butch? A dyke?”

  “No, she wasn’t anything like that.” I adamantly defended Bert’s reputation.

  “Then tell me.” She was persistent.

  How would I describe Bert? Confident, strong, fair, smart, witty, handsome, charming, cute, sexy, beautiful, stunning? A woman who could take your breath away with one look and set you on fire with another? I probably could go on and on if I wanted to. Before I had a chance to say anything, Rachel jumped in.

  “You fell for her,” she said, suddenly very excited.

  “I did not,” I replied quickly but admittedly with very little conviction.

  “You did too. I can see it all over your face.”

  “What you see is fresh air, sunshine, and hard work.”

  “And lust.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Rachel knew about my Ariel fiasco and my determination to remain single. “Pull your head out from between your legs, Rach. I did not fall for Bert. I admit she is attractive in that rough-and-tumble way, but I do not and will not fall for anyone. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rachel said, obviously not convinced.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, somewhat testy.

  “I mean your face lights up when you talk about her. Your voice goes up a notch, and you talk really fast.”

  “My face does that when I land a new client too,” I said, effectively refuting her insane observation.

  “Same kind of thing—see it, go after it, and capture it.”

  Okay, maybe not so effective, but Rachel was way off base and I told her so.

  “We’ll see,” she said before reaching for the check. I hated it when she said that. And now here I was, two months later, going back out on the water with Bert, where it all began.

  My flip-flops flipped and flopped on the pier as I walked back toward my car. I felt Bert watching me. The urge to turn around was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to keep my eyes forward. What would it say if I turned around? Would it convey that I wanted to know if she was watching me? Was I interested or just following through on a vague invitation I’d made to her? If so, then why was I so nervous? Why had my knees shook when I boarded the Dream? Why had my heart pounded and the butterflies in my stomach taken off in flight?

  When I’d approached the bridge I’d heard music, so I knew it had to be Bert. She’d said she spent most of her free time on the Dream, and when the gangplank was down I knew it would be her.

  Bert had been lying on her back under the console to the left of the captain’s chair. The weather was warm, and she was wearing a pair of cargo shorts I remember seeing in her drawer and a pair of well-worn deck shoes. Her legs were sticking out of the cabinet, and I’d flashed on a memory of them wrapped around me. That erotic memory had been sidetracked when she started cussing.

  The sound of her voice had been like an accelerant to my frayed nerves. My heart beat faster and my hands were clammy. And when she’d scooted out from her small workspace and her eyes traveled up my body to mine, I was a mess. It was as if her eyes had transmitted some sort of heat ray or something equally bizarre, because my skin burned wherever she looked. By the time she reached my eyes I was about to melt or explode, I wasn’t sure. But Bert didn’t need to know that, and I didn’t want to think about it. I’d fought too hard to put those thoughts out of my mind and failed miserably.

  Our conversation had been ridiculous: small talk, benign, awkward chitchat. I’d thought a lot about what I’d say to her, but as soon as I’d felt the slow rock of the Dream under my feet, my practiced words completely dissolved into nothing. When I’d touched the captain’s chair and flashed to what happened one particular night in that chair, I wasn’t sure I would have remembered my own name. Jesus, when I’d asked her to visit my boat, I’d made my invitation sound as exciting as standing in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

  The chirp of the security system on my car reminded me of just how much I hated it. A man walking toward me turned around to find the source and smiled at me when he realized it was my car. We nodded in polite greeting as we passed. I opened the door and practically fell into the driver’s seat. I grabbed the steering wheel and dropped my forehead to my hands.

  “Well, that went well,” I said to myself. “Bert could tell you were thrilled to see her again. That you didn’t sleep at all last night because you were so nervous about today.”

  Did Bert really want to go out on my boat, or did she just agree because it was the polite thing to do? She probably still considered me an idiot with more money than sense when it came to piloting a watercraft. Who else would let their boat catch fire?

  The insurance adjuster had been a complete ass. He simply couldn’t grasp the fact that Adventures was somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. I’m sure he’d seen his share of insurance scams, especially by an owner who wanted to pay for a boat they didn’t want or no longer could afford. After many, many conversations with him and signing a document that said if my boat was found I’d go to jail for insurance fraud, I’d finally gotten my check and my new boat.

  I’d christened her the Smoke Alarm, for obvious reasons, and had her out only twice so far. Because she was just a newer model, she handled about the same, and I was sure I could handle her with Bert aboard. Now all I had to do was prove it to myself, and I wasn’t so sure I could do that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Alissa

  The brisk knock on my office door startled me, and my lawyer Paul walked in without waiting for an invitation. He closed the door behind him and hurried to my desk.

  “What is it, Paul?” I was concerned. I’d never seen him this rattled, and I was still recovering from seeing Bert two days ago.

  “Ariel’s been released.”

  The room started to spin and I felt like I was in a vortex. I saw flashes of light behind my eyes and wasn’t sure I could breathe. “When?” I managed to choke out.

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “And we’re just now hearing about it?” My mind was racing. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she plotting her revenge? Was she poisoning my clients? The list went on. I felt sick to my stomach.

  “When I called, the parole board explained it as a bureaucratic error.”

  “Bureaucratic fuck-up is more like it,” I said, getting my feet back under me.

  “She is to have absolutely no contac
t with you, any member of your staff, or any previous or current clients. If she violates any of those stipulations, she goes back to prison to serve out the remainder of her sentence.”

  I could care less about the terms of her parole. She was out. “Maria!” I yelled loud enough so she would hear me through the closed door. It didn’t take long for her to stick her head in and for me to start rattling off instructions. “Paul will get you a picture of a woman who is not allowed into this building under any circumstances. Send the same photo to the guard at the front gate to my neighborhood and the guard at the pier where my boat is docked. I want everyone in the conference room in fifteen minutes, no exceptions.” Maria nodded and hustled out the door, closing it behind her.

  “Do you think she’ll do something?” he asked seriously.

  “I have no fucking clue,” I replied. “If I didn’t know she was stealing from me when we were together, no way in hell will I know what she’s up to now.” I stood to go to the conference room. “She’s had four years to do nothing but sit and think. And she’s not stupid.”

  *

  Bert

  It was a long three days. A very long three days until it was time to go to Alissa’s. I couldn’t remember a time I was ever this nervous. I ironed my shorts and T-shirt twice, pulled out my new pair of deck shoes, and got a fresh haircut even though I didn’t need one.

  I locked the door behind me and told myself that this was nothing more than a boat ride with an old friend on a beautiful day. I tried not to think about the chance that we might pick up where we left off. Based on our stilted conversation the few times we’d talked since we returned, that was obviously not going to happen. Then why was I walking so fast? Why was my stomach in knots and my knees a little weak? Why was my mouth dry and my hands clammy? I was so jittery I decided to walk to pier twenty-one. It wasn’t far, but I couldn’t sit in my living room any longer. Step after anxious step brought me closer to the unknown with Alissa and further away from what I knew best.

  I stopped at the gate that would lead me down the dock to her boat. The gate was unlocked, so I pushed it open and stepped through.

  The pier was lined with boats of all sizes, though a few empty slips had signs that they were normally filled. Those folks must have gotten an early start this morning. Alissa was in slip fourteen, which, since the odd numbers were on my left, would be on my right. I passed slip eight and counted ahead to fourteen.

  The first thing I saw was Alissa, and then I didn’t see anything else. That showed just how far my interests had changed. Most of my life I’d been as focused on boats as teenage boys are on cars. I could tell you the manufacturer and class of every boat I saw. But as I walked down the dock I didn’t see any of them. All I saw was Alissa.

  Silhouetted by the morning sun, she looked like a vision from some futuristic, fantasy place. White shorts exposed tanned legs, and a royal-blue tank top showed off everything else. She’d pulled her hair through the back of her cap, and she looked, well, for lack of a better word, furious.

  She was arguing with a woman standing on the deck of her boat. The other woman was dressed stylishly in white pants and a dark-gray tank top. Her shoes were completely impractical for walking on the floating pier, let alone on any boat.

  I didn’t want to interrupt but I stepped forward anyway. It didn’t take long before I could hear every word they said.

  “Get off my boat.” Alissa had more than a little anger in her voice. I would know. I’d heard it before.

  “Lissa, please,” the woman said.

  Lissa?

  “Don’t call me that,” Alissa said through clenched teeth. “I have nothing to say to you, Ariel. Oh, wait, that’s not right. I have nothing to say to you, Cindy.” She said the woman’s name with a sneer.

  Something was going on between these two, and I had no idea what. Clearly Alissa didn’t like this woman—what did she call her—Ariel? Cindy? What was that all about? But I did know it was about to get ugly. It was none of my business so I stayed put, ready to step in if needed.

  “Alissa, please let me explain,” the woman pleaded. “I loved you, I really did.”

  “Now why don’t I believe that? Let me ask, do you say the same thing to your husband?”

  Husband? WTF?

  “It’s not the same. Robert is—”

  “There’s no way in hell I want to hear about your husband. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Now get off my boat.”

  “You never gave me a chance to explain,” the woman said, her voice a little more whiny.

  “That’s because no explanation can erase the fact that you used me to take my money and my clients. Nothing can explain that away.”

  Now it was all clear. This was the woman who stole from Alissa, the one she labeled the million-dollar fuck. I thought she was still in prison. Hopefully she was an escapee, not out on parole. I’d be the first to dial 9-1-1.

  “It started that way, and then I fell in love with you.”

  Alissa laughed, her tone mocking. “You are so full of shit, Ariel. You lied from day one and you’re lying now. You’re a deceitful, conniving, manipulative bitch.”

  “You don’t need to get ugly, Alissa.”

  Oh my God. This woman actually had the nerve to sound offended.

  Alissa took a step toward the woman. “You don’t get to tell me anything. Now get off my boat.”

  “Alissa,” the woman said, her voice softening. She took a step closer and started to raise her hand. She was probably going to try to caress her cheek, but she could just as easily hit Alissa with a right cross. The first I didn’t want, and the idea of the second was abhorrent.

  “The lady asked you to leave,” I said, my voice firm and commanding. Both women turned to look at me. They had been so involved in their argument, they hadn’t seen me approach.

  “This is none of your business,” the woman said, looking at me dismissively.

  “Yes, it is my business.” I was almost snarling. “She asked you to leave. Now I suggest you go or I’ll help you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” the woman said, more than a little indignant.

  “Try me.” Oh, yes, please try me. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction that to toss this perfectly coiffed woman in the drink.

  “Bert,” Alissa said tentatively. “It’s okay.”

  “Yes, Bert, it’s okay.” The woman parroted her in a stickily sweet tone.

  I stepped onto Alissa’s boat and stopped inches from the woman.

  “Who are you?” She turned to Alissa after looking me up and down. “Is this who you replaced me with?” I could feel the distaste in her voice.

  I answered before Alissa could. “Who I am is none of your business. Alissa told you to get off her boat. I told you to get off her boat. Now get off her boat.” I didn’t raise my voice, which I found was a much more effective way of threatening someone. It worked, because the woman took a step backward.

  “This isn’t over, Al—”

  “Alissa already said she has nothing to say to you.” I took another step toward her, and she backed up another few steps.

  “This isn’t over, Alissa,” she repeated, stepping carefully out onto the dock. She turned, and I thought she might say more but thought better of it. She spun on her high heel, almost falling into the water. Then she stomped up the dock and through the gate.

  I turned to see Alissa standing by the wheel.

  “I am so sorry you were in the middle of that,” Alissa said, sounding subdued and more than a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t apologize. I put myself there. I know you’re probably going to bite my head off and say you had it under control and didn’t need me jumping in and rescuing you.”

  “No and yes,” Alissa replied quickly. “No, I’m not going to bite your head off, and yes, I did have it under control.”

  “I know you did,” I admitted. “I just couldn’t stand by when she didn’t leave after you told her to.”


  “That was Ariel, the woman who embezzled from me.” She laughed. “But I guess you figured that out.”

  “Yeah.”

  Alissa moved toward me. I soaked up the sight of her, knowing that after today I’d probably never see her again. I’d given up on any chance of being with her again, chalking up our time together as just a good time precipitated by circumstance. But when I’d seen her standing in the doorway to my wheelhouse last week, my heart had jumped.

  It was pretty obvious she’d shown up on my boat only to follow through on her invitation. She’d invited me on her boat in a passing comment, and I’d never intended her to follow through. When she’d committed to today, I’d leapt at her invitation even though I’d had to juggle a few previous commitments.

  God, I missed her. I hadn’t thought I would, but that was definitely not the case. I missed her smile, her wit and intelligence, the way she held her own with my crew, and the way she played cards. I missed our late-night conversations and pre-dawn sex. I’d admitted to myself weeks ago that I missed her in my bed. An image of her waiting for me wearing nothing but a mischievous smile flashed through my mind. We stared at each other for a few moments, and I watched, enthralled, as her face transformed from passive and expressionless to animated, then to something else. Her eyes burned, but she blinked a few times as if trying to regain control.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice sounding like light rain on a cool April afternoon.

  “Permission to come aboard.” I couldn’t have hidden my smile even if I’d wanted to.

  She stepped forward and held out her hand. “Permission granted.”

  Even though I was already on board, I wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to touch her again. A burst of heat shot through my hand all the way down to my toes when we touched. I almost stumbled under the sheer rightness of it all. “Welcome aboard the Smoke Alarm,” Alissa said. “Pretty appropriate, wouldn’t you say?” she added, seeing my amused expression.