YOLO_You Only Live Once

by Sue Seabury

  “Here we have a Juvenile Grunt, then a Smallmouth Grunt. This is a Dusky Damsel—”

  “Well I can see why a juvenile might have a small mouth that would lead to grunting, especially if he took on a Dusky Damsel!” Queenie screeched again at her joke, then shimmied closer and poked Pete in the shoulder with her enhanced boobs. “Would you consider your mouth to be small or average? Think you’re up to dusky damsel?”

  Pete was already pink from the sun, but his face flushed a deeper shade.

  He was saved from having to respond when Ramsey called for everyone to take a seat. “Gotta stay inside the cabin ’til we get out to Roca del Mar.”

  Queenie put on a theatrical pout. “Aw, why?”

  “Lots of sea spray and the decks get real slippery. You don’t want to get all soaked, do you Miss Queen?”

  “Only with booze!”

  “I got your number.” Ramsey winked at Kat.

  Kat returned it, feeling good about what she had accomplished. With any luck, the storm would turn decisively away while they were out. They would return to the resort to hear the happy news, and the topic could be dropped for good.

  After more jockeying for position than took place on a middle school field trip, everyone settled. Queenie took one side of Pete while RuPTA took the other. Not to be left out, Kat sat across from Pete. The remaining PTAs claimed triumphant-yet-not seats with Stan and the other two Cigarbellies who were discussing something boring and business-related, and totally ignored the PTAs. The women soon countered by talking loudly of their vast experience at snorkeling, none of them listening to anyone else.

  Roca del Mar formed a more romantic backdrop from a distance. Up close, it was just a giant, steep-sided boulder. Kat had thought she might explore it, but Ramsey informed her there was nothing to see on top.

  “That’s why it’s called ‘Sea Rock.’”

  Her disappointment didn’t last long. In the clear water surrounding La Roca, bright fish darted along the coral beds.

  Ramsey explained how to blow the water out of the snorkel and how to walk backward in the flippers. “Best thing to do though is to put them on right before you go in. And keep away from the coral. One, it’ll slice you up, and two, it’s protected.”

  “Have you ever snorkeled before, Cathy?” Pete asked.

  “Tons of times,” RuPTA interjected.

  Kat plastered on a smile. “Is your name Katherine too?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Kat waited for her to reveal her name. She didn’t.

  Pete continued, “Allow me to act as your guide today, then.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” RuPTA said. “Maybe I can show you a thing or two.” She winked at Pete.

  Kat slid her eyes sideways at the woman. Again, she would have let it go, but RuPTA really was insufferable.

  “Thank you, Pete,” Kat said. “That sounds nice.”

  “Okay, well, we can all stick together.”

  “I’m good, thanks. Want to get some laps in anyway.” RuPTA flounced off.

  Kat shrugged, but Pete’s attention was on RuPTA’s back end.

  “Here you go.” Ramsey handed them each a pair of flippers. “Water’s real salty. Practically no work at all to float. Like I said, just keep clear of the coral.”

  “Coming, boys?” Queenie called from a bent over position as she attached her flippers. Kat was starting to love her sense of humor.

  “All set.” Pete strapped his phone to his chest. “This cellphone case is amazing. Waterproof, shockproof, dustproof—”

  “Yeah, we remember,” Queenie said.

  Pete deflated, which seemed to remind Queenie she was supposed to be flirting with him. She patted his phone, then let her fingers wander further afield. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

  Pete slid, or perhaps fell, into the water. Queenie gave the remaining men one final rear-end show by rechecking one flipper. “What’s taking the rest of you so long?”

  “We’ll watch from here,” Stan said.

  Kat nudged Queenie. “The only marine lifethey’reinterested in are the ones in bikinis.”

  “I believe I just spotted a Queen Angelfish!” Pete called. Excited, he forgot to paddle and swallowed some sea water.

  Queenie gave Kat a knowing nod, then turned and jumped off backward. Her breasts bobbed like neon pink buoys. “Here’s a real Queen Fish!”

  Kat made no ceremony of her descent.

  “Over this way, Cathy, and Queenie, I think we’ll have some luck. There’s a nice little reef close to La Roca. Did you know that coral is actually an animal? They’re polyps that grown on the previous year’s exoskeleton. If you were to cut them open, you would see rings, like on a tree. . .” Pete talked on. Kat listened while they swam, but once the real snorkeling began, she was glad to discover it blocked out all noise except the sound of bubbles as she exhaled underwater.

  “You know what, I think I’ll stick closer to the boat.” Queenie winked hard in Stan’s direction.

  Kat waved her agreement. One talker was enough company for this excursion.

  Ramsey was right; she hardly had to do any work, just float and observe. When she came up to clear her goggles, she found Pete still talking.

  “Ideal water temperature is between seventy-three and seventy-seven degrees . . .”

  Kat went back under. Too much information would ruin her enjoyment of the otherworldly shapes, and the way gravity didn’t apply. Her body rocked in time with the plant life bobbing in the current. The unusual plants reminded her of Hugo’s hair.

  A flash of blue and orange swam right in front of her eyes. A juvenile dusky damsel? She didn’t want to ask. From time to time, she peeked her head up to check that everyone was okay. Silly, seeing as the women were clearly competent swimmers, and the salty water kept everyone afloat, but she had promised Hugo.

  17

  “Coral can live for hundreds of years, which means some of this may have been here when Christopher Columbus made his first voyage.” Pete said.

  “Fascinating.”

  Kat was ready for a break when Ramsey called out, “Lunchtime!”

  The spread was limited but very fresh. All the food she’d ever eaten at home seemed bland in comparison to the things she was having here. “What is this raisiny stuff?”

  “Tamarind,” Ramsey said.

  “Delicious.”

  “We got the trees growing all over the resort. I’ll get Hugo to point them out to you.”

  “Or I’d be happy to show you.” Pete got busy with his phone again.

  Kat nodded politely, but Hugo was her preferred tour guide.

  After lunch, the others prepared to head back out. Apparently, the PTA crowd was planning on getting in a couple of miles of swimming. Even Queenie was eager to go.

  “Coming, Cathy?” The way Pete cocked his head reminded Kat of Josie’s spaniel, Nosykins.

  “Um, I’m going to wait a few minutes and digest. I might have overdone it on the tamarind sauce.”

  “I found a nice reef if you’d like me to show you around.” The beads hanging from strings of RuPTA’s black bikini rustled as she swayed her hips.

  “Um, okay. That sounds nice,” Pete’s forehead creased. “So, Cathy, you know where to find us?”

  “Yes, sure, go have fun.”

  The one problem with staying behind was the cigar smoke. Even at the far end of the boat, it wafted up. She had to laugh that she ever worried the Cigarbellies would get drunk and drown. They hadn’t even gotten their toes wet. So much for her free massages. Maybe she’d give one of them a shove?

  She’d just about made up her mind to go back in the water when she saw Ramsey cleaning up the lunch remains. Lending him a hand gave her the perfect excuse to delay her return to the water.

  Ramsey had his back to her, loading leftovers into a cooler. Kat had stacked a pile of plates before he turned around.

  “Hey, whoa, whatcha doin’? This is your vacation.”

&nbs
p; She collected a stray napkin. “Can’t help it. I like to keep busy.”

  “Well, in that case.” Ramsey sat down and put his feet up on one of the tables. His shiny eyes and loose laugh told her he’d helped himself to the bottle of rum.

  Kat swatted his bare feet with the napkin. “Lazy bones. I’ll tell Hugo!” It was meant to be teasing, but Ramsey scowled.

  “Just like Gianna,” he muttered, then his eyes went big like he’d just tattled. He recovered quickly with a sly smile. “ThenI’ll tattle, too. Tell him you were workin’ when you s’pposed to be relaxin’.”

  Kat’s heart beat fast all of a sudden. She used the napkin to wipe up some condensation. Tracing circles on the smooth Formica was soothing. She saw why Hugo did it so much. “You let me pitch in and I won’t rat you out. Deal?”

  He squinted at her in mock consideration. “You and Hugo, always working. Okay, Miss Kat. We all have our own ideas about how to relax.”

  Kat traced a few more circles, then handed the stack of used plates to Ramsey. Her heart sped up again. “He told me about her, so you don’t have to worry.”

  Ramsey paused briefly, then threw the disposable plates into a trash bag. “Really.”

  “Well, he mentioned her. Then his mom told me she was sort of . . . flighty, so.” To hide her embarrassment about gossiping, Kat looked under the table. That was always a place people forgot to check. Sure enough, a cup and napkin were wedged against the wall. “You have a broom or something?”

  Ramsey handed it to her.

  “So, you think we’re a lot alike?” Kat said from under the table. It helped muffle her uneven tone.

  “You and G, yeah. I didn’t see it before, but with your hair wet and dark, and now that you got a tan going on. And always working, working, working. I thought ladies liked to sit around eating bonbons. Guess mymamá gave me the wrong idea.”

  Kat stayed under the table, pretending she couldn’t reach the napkin. “She must’ve been really upset when the catamaran sank. Gianna, I mean, not your mother.”

  “Yeah. She acted like it was Hugo’s fault, like he shoulda got it out. He tried, but everyone was getting their boat hauled. I mean, what did she think? He couldn’t pick up a fifty-foot boat with his bare hands.”

  Kat knelt on the floor. “That caused a big fight, huh?”

  A bottle sloshed.

  “Yeah, she took off with that dude from Miami not too long after. He was real broke up.” Ramsey’s rum-smelling face appeared next to hers. “Need help?”

  “Um, yes. I can’t quite nab that napkin.”

  He handed her a plastic cup half-full of rum and took the broom. He retrieved the napkin easily. “Break time.” He tossed the napkin like a basketball into the trash bag.

  Kat slid onto the bench seat and set the plastic cup down. Ramsey sat across from her and pointed at the cup. “Have some.”

  She held up a hand. “I’m good.”

  Ramsey drained it in one gulp. “I’m so glad you came, Miss Kat.”

  “Because of my help cleaning? That was nothing.”

  “Nah, to the resort. Hugo’s been so different since you got here. I think he likes you.”

  Kat laughed and knocked the table by accident, which made the cup fall over. She righted it automatically, and stared into it, half-wishing she hadn’t turned down Ramsey’s offer. “Oh, um, that’s nice. Well, I like him, too. He’s a very good host.”

  Ramsey shook his head. A tipsy smile highlighted his amazing bone structure. “You shy like him, too.”

  “Have you ever considered modeling?”

  “Nah. Mymamá says it’s real boring. Hot lights, standing around all the time.” He wrinkled his perfect nose.

  “So your mother was a model?”

  “Miss Puerto Rico 1988, yeah.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Nineteen eighty-eight, huh? I used to watch pageants, but I don’t remember . . .”

  “S’okay. It was a long time ago. No one remembers.” Ramsey tipped the cup back over his mouth and tapped it. A single drop fell out. “Ahh. You gonna get another run in, Miss Kat? Tide’s about to change. The waves start pushing toward the rocks and then you have to be more careful.”

  “I’d better head out then.”

  18

  Kat decided against joining Pete and RuPTA, and Queenie was splashing around in the area where she and Pete had already explored. The rest of the women were doing laps on the near side of the boat, so Kat stayed out in deeper water this time. There was less marine life, but she still enjoyed the underwater landscape and the quiet.

  Suddenly she was surrounded by fish. Swarmed, she might even say. Something plunked near her ear. It was a piece of bread. She lifted her head out. Ramsey was throwing bits into the water. “I figure I call them to you.”

  Once she got over the worry about being bitten, it was magical. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of them. The fish overcame their fear of her and swam right in front of her mask.

  She lifted her head out to call, “Thank—”

  A familiar screech ripped through the air.

  Ramsey dropped the bread and ran down the deck. Kat swam back to the boat. A dripping Queenie with her bikini only vaguely situated on her parts was being hoisted out by Ramsey from the front, with Pete giving helpful pushes from behind. Queenie’s deeply tanned calf was streaked with red.

  “Knocked into the coral,” Pete said. “I told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just get me a drink. Someone.” Queenie eyed Ramsey. He disappeared into the cabin.

  Kat found a towel which Queenie accepted without thanks. She pressed the pristine white towel to her bloody leg. Although there was a lot of blood, it was clearly a surface scrape. “Doesn’t look too bad.”

  Queenie let out a sharp “shh” along with a couple of significant eye movements toward Stan.

  “Then again, I’ve heard coral can do serious damage,” Kat said louder.

  “You’re right, Cathy,” Pete said. “The bacteria in them can sometimes lead to infection. If you get a reef sting, you can get painful swelling and blisters. And if a sea urchin spine gets lodged under your skin, that can be deadly. But it’s pretty rare.”

  Ramsey returned with a cup of punch. Queenie swiped it from his hand.

  “This punch could use some punch, if ya follow.”

  “We kinda ran out.” Ramsey had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “Then I guess it’s good we’re headed back,” Queenie said.

  Ramsey hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll call in the others.”

  The others weren’t as keen on the idea, especially when it became clear Queenie was the reason why.

  “I’ve only logged a mile and a half, and I didn’t see a single sea turtle!” RuPTA whined.

  “Tide’s turning,” Ramsey said. “Gotta head back.”

  Special Snowflake started huffing about refunds again. Ramsey turned the charm on high and told her about a beach where the turtles lay their eggs. “You’ll love it. A long hike, at least a coupla miles, rugged terrain, rock climbing to get down to the sand. Great exercise.”

  “Really?” RuPTA said.

  “Yes, miss. As soon as we get back, I’ll run right up and get you the map so you don’t have to even come back to the resort. You can head straight out. It’ll last you for hours.” Ramsey winked at Kat.

  Back at the dock, Ramsey was true to his word and jogged up to the resort. Queenie demanded Stan help her. Pete looked like he wanted to assist.

  “Go on,” Kat said to him. “Stan could use a hand.” Even if Queenie really didn’t.

  He went. The other two Cigarbellies stood around smoking while the foursome of women did calf stretches. Their zeal to show off their flexibility made Kat never want to do another runner’s stretch, ever.

  The boat captain tossed the towels unceremoniously onto the dock. Some of them dangled off the edge of the pier. Kat pulled them to safety. She hated it when people at work messed up
her neat stacks. She decided to fold the two or three that were still clean. Save someone half a load of laundry.

  “You coming with us?” Rude Roots asked. Kat turned, but she’d been addressing the Cigarbellies. She clearly didn’t get it that these men were human turtles, disinclined to any exercise more strenuous than lifting a brandy snifter to their lips.

  Kevin condescended to unscrew the cigar from the corner of his mouth. “You can tell us all about it when you get back.”

  Ramsey returned. “I’ll show you which path to take.”

  The women followed him single file. Stepford Wives.

  “You see the ass on that one?” Liam said. “I don’t know how she fits that humungous pole up it.”

  The pair guffawed.

  Kat finished folding and headed up the sand, carrying her sandals along with the stack of clean towels. She didn’t know which to blame, going shoeless or the towels blocking her view, but she didn’t have time to analyze before white hot pain seared from her foot up her calf. She went down, fluffy white towels billowing.

  She’d stepped on a palm leaf, which, although green, was apparently as sharp as a knife. The extent of the damage only became apparent when she moved the towels aside.

  Blood pulsed at a steady rate from a long, thin line along the sole of her foot.

  “Help!” She gasped for air. “Can anyone hear me down on the dock? I cut my foot!”

  Kevin and Liam sauntered up. At least they had the decency to look guilty when they saw her foot. Cigars were removed from mouths.

  “Hm. Looks bad,” Kevin said.

  You don’t say? Kat extended a hand. “Could you lend me an arm so I don’t have to put this foot in the sand?”

  The cigars went back in.

  “Got this disc problem, ya see,” Kevin garbled.

  “S-I joint’s been acting up these past coupla days.” Liam grimaced and stretched.

  “I’ll go see if I can rustle up Hugo,” Kevin offered, thoughtfully puffing smoke in Kat’s direction.

  “And I’ll take a look for Ramsey, see if he’s back yet.” Liam strolled back down toward the water.

  Being angry with the Cigarbellies served one purpose: it dulled the pain. Kat took some slow breaths and wrapped her foot with a towel. It already had blood on it anyway.