by Rima Jean
The Noble Pirates
Rima Jean
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Rima Jean. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Cover design by Adam Sund.
Ebook ISBN
Print ISBN
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition 2011.
To Papa.
Chapter One
I hate boats.
I sat on a pink bench, the painted wood hot against my thighs. Holding a bottle of water in one hand, I tossed the white pill into my mouth with the other. I eyed the catamaran warily as it bobbed up and down in the harbor. The pill went down hard. Just watching the catamaran float on the waves made me nauseous.
I glanced at Sky and Tanya. Sky was reading a history book about pirates and Tanya was putting on lip gloss. Neither one of them had thought about my propensity toward sea sickness when they’d signed up for this, and I hadn’t reminded them. I was enough of a drag as it was.
I sighed, looking back up as a group of college students sat down across from us, laughing loudly. I leaned toward Tanya. “I can’t believe we’re going on a booze cruise,” I muttered.
She pressed her lips together and flashed a coy smile at one of the frat boys. Not looking at me, she said, “It’s not a booze cruise. It’s a day-long excursion to Rose Island, which happens to serve alcohol.” She handed me her lip gloss. “Can you put this in your backpack?”
I had insisted that we only take one bag – my backpack – on this trip. I figured it was a better way to keep track of our belongings, and only one of us had to carry anything. Plus, it allowed me to sneak my Blackberry along. I had to stay in touch with Linda, my secretary. What if she needed me? I shifted the backpack from one shoulder to the other. I hadn’t anticipated how much crap would get loaded onto my back. I felt Sky unzip the backpack behind me and slip her book into it as someone called us to attention.
“Ahoy, me hearties!” We turned to see our captain—a young man in his mid-twenties with bleach-blond hair. He was dressed in a pirate’s outfit he must have gotten from a Halloween costume store: red handkerchief tied around his head, white shirt with billowy sleeves, tight striped pants tucked into black boots, a sash around his waist. And of course, an eye patch. The shirt, as expected, had no buttons, and lay open to reveal a “V” of very tan, very muscular, very hairless chest. He explained to us what our trip would consist of, his words enhanced by the lilt of an accent. Australian. I wanted to roll my eyes. Of course he was Australian. This guy must get tourist “booty” like nobody’s business.
As we and the eight other passengers followed the Aussie, named Bryan, onto the 40-foot catamaran, Tanya hooked her arms around Sky’s neck and my waist, pulling us close. She growled into our ears, “Wow. He can shiver me timbers any day of the week.” Sky and I smiled at each other. The minute Captain Bryan had appeared, we knew that Tanya would be lost to us today. Just as well. One less person to notice if I spent the trip puking over the side of the boat.
The instant we were seated on the catamaran, a young Bahamian woman hurried out with cocktails, grinning playfully at us. Jesus. It was, what, eleven in the morning? Who wanted to drink anything but coffee at this time of day? I sighed. I knew that, unless I wanted to be harangued mercilessly by Tanya, I would have to start drinking soon. I stared at the dock, trying to focus on the lack of movement there. So far so good.
“I hear the Bahama Mama is awesome,” Sky told me, handing me a fruity-looking drink as she took one herself.
I tried not to look disgusted. “What’s in it?”
Sky grinned. “Rum, rum, and more rum.”
Of course. How stupid of me. I settled back, holding the cup in my hands, my eyes focused on the shore as we set off. The speakers blared some calypso, and the college kids seemed to go through the drinks faster than the girl could bring them out. It was a particularly steamy day, steamier than yesterday, and a haze had settled on the horizon. It was neither cloudy nor sunny, just hot. Had we not been moving, there would have been no breeze.
I leaned forward, my eyes still on the shore, my drink still untouched. I wanted to have a good time for Tanya and Sky, God help me, I did. They had planned this girls’ trip to the Bahamas for me, to take my mind off of things. But every time I closed my eyes, I heard Jake’s voice. Telling me that this wasn’t the life he’d imagined for himself, for Sophie. That he hoped a separation would give me time to think, to prioritize. I clenched my jaw, remembering how he’d sat there on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his usually good-humored blue eyes rimmed with red, his handsome face crumpled from sleepless nights.
My chest ached as I remembered Sophie’s face, her wide blue eyes, so like her father’s, flickering from me to Jake as we tried to explain to her what was happening. It’s not that Mommy and Daddy don’t love each other... We love you more than life itself... Anxiety swelled into fear, and I could tell that she wanted to rush into Jake’s arms, to be sure that he wasn’t leaving her.
“...and Sabrina grew up in Haiti. But we all live in Houston now.” I looked up at my name to find that Tanya and Sky had befriended the college students. Let me rephrase that: Tanya had befriended two athletic-looking frat boys in baseball caps and Sky had been unwillingly drawn into the conversation.
One of the boys, a tall guy with shaggy brown hair, looked at me and grinned. “Haiti, huh? Do you practice voodoo?”
Idiot. I gave him the iciest stare I could muster. “You sure you want to know?”
His grin didn’t fade. I could tell he was one of those guys who didn’t get the hint when a girl wasn’t interested in him, one of those guys who went around saying, “Dude, she totally wants me,” even when he’d been slapped in the face. “You’re cute,” he said. “You married?”
Tanya replied cheerfully, “She and her husband are separated.”
“Tanya!” Sky hissed, looked worriedly at me.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, even though it wasn’t. Separated. The word cut me like a shard of glass.
The shaggy-haired frat boy pointed to my drink. “You gonna drink that before we get to the island or what? You haven’t even had a sip yet.”
I set the drink down in irritation. “Don’t think so. Feel free to drink it.” I stood uneasily, wondering if going below deck was a terrible idea. I really had to pee, and I wanted to escape this conversation immediately. I deliberated for exactly one second, deciding that I’d rather vomit non-stop than continue my conversation with the shaggy-haired kid. I stumbled clumsily to the cabin, trying unsuccessfully to shut out the playful laughter of the college kids.
Chapter Two
I dug my feet further in the powder white sand, grinding my teeth. The relief I’d felt at finally being off the boat was swiftly replaced with anxiety: Rose Island was secluded, pristine, and void of distractions. Nothing but the turquoise beach stretching endlessly before us, nothing but relaxation on the agenda. I glanced at Tanya, who was giggling with Captain Bryan. Well, nothing but relaxation for most of us.
Sky and I had found a quiet place on the beach to sit, and she rummaged through my backpack, pulling out another book. Realizing the torture I was in for, I pulled out my iPod. Sky looked around for a second, leaning back on her elbows. “This place is gorgeous,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, tucking the earbuds in my ears. “It’s really perfect if you’re looking fo
r some privacy.” I rolled my eyes meaningfully in Tanya’s direction, where she and the Aussie were already wandering off together as she tossed back her head and laughed, touching him lightly on his arm.
Sky watched them walk off and then turned to me, a smile playing on her lips. “This is going to sound all kinds of messed up, but I’m kind of living vicariously through her. He’s pretty hot.”
I chuckled. “It’s the accent.” Then I added, “That’s not messed up. You’ll get back home and jump Dave like a hormonal teenager. He’ll love that.”
Sky grinned. “I may dress him up as a pirate for fun.”
I shook my head, smiling widely. “You do realize pirates were not like...” I grabbed the book out of her hands, opening it up to a random page. “...like Lord Lance.” I jumped up as Sky tried to snatch the book back, scrabbling from her beach towel and laughing. “Jesus, Sky, what on earth are you reading? The Pirate’s Fire? Are you serious? What happened to that history book you were reading earlier? It was just a cover-up so you could read this smut, wasn’t it!”
Sky was still laughing, wrapping her arms around my calves. “Come on, S, don’t lose my place, okay? I have an abnormal obsession with pirates. I can’t help it if being here makes me want to read about buccaneers. Historically speaking, Nassau was a pirate haven.”
I laughed. “Don’t you start lecturing me! I already know all that. And don’t try distracting me from the fact that you’re reading about being ravaged by a pirate.”
Sky’s lips twitched as she held out her hand. “My book, please?”
I handed the book back to her, pointing to the bronze-skinned Adonis on the cover. He was embracing a pale blond woman who looked to be in mid-orgasm. “Fine. But let me just remind you that in real life, pirates were nothing like this. They were filthy, had rotting teeth, and serious dingle-berries.”
Sky shook her head defiantly. “Don’t ruin my fantasies, S. I’m not listening.”
I plopped down, leaning to speak in her ear. “They suffered from scurvy and malnutrition, were probably more interested in each other than in women, carried all kinds of fun STDs like syphilis. And all that bullshit about pirates being vigilantes. They were, and still are, thugs, Sky, just plain thugs who raped and murdered and – ”
Sky clapped her hand to my mouth, smiling. “Shut. Yo. Face.”
I leaned back, deciding I’d annoyed her enough. “Just keep your hands where I can see them, okay?” Grinning to myself, I went back to my iPod. Sky continued to read her Harlequin while I scrolled through my list of songs, wondering if I had any new e-mails. The air was breezeless, and it felt abnormal, stifling, almost. The sea was eerily still, the azure waves lapping gently at our feet. I was starting to feel restless, wondering if I would get grief from Sky if I checked my Blackberry, when I spotted Tanya jogging down the beach towards us, her clothes in disarray, her hair flying loosely behind her. “Guys! We have to go. Now.”
Sky and I jumped up. “What happened?”
Tanya scowled. “We were about to, you know, when he got paged. A thunderstorm is coming through here, and we have to leave, like, now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The pirate carries a pager? How authentic.”
Sky looked up, confused. “A thunderstorm? I don’t see anything.”
Tanya shrugged. “Yeah, nobody did. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to leave this morning. In any case, Bryan wants us all back on the boat pronto.” As we started back, Tanya reached for my backpack. “Hey, S, can I have my lip gloss? And my eye liner? Actually, just give me my whole makeup bag.”
“You have an entire makeup bag in here?” I cried. “No wonder it feels like it weighs ten tons!”
Sky archly yanked a strand of Tanya’s wild hair and asked, “So? Is the pirate a good kisser?”
Tanya’s face stretched into a wide smile and she gurgled as she broke into a run. We chased after her, screaming obscenities at her, teasing her. Up above, the clouds quickly but soundlessly thickened into a gray fog, blotting out the sun.
Somehow, Bryan the Aussie Pirate managed to get every last drunken passenger on board in record time, and we were off. Bryan didn’t bother to unfurl the sails this time – he was trying to beat the storm, and the engine growled unpleasantly, coughing gasoline fumes that made my unsettled stomach all the more unwilling to keep down my lunch.
I looked up at the sky, watching an ominous patch of clouds move over Rose Island. How odd that no one saw this coming. Because it looked like it was going to be pretty bad. I tried to swallow the bile in the back of my throat, wondering if we’d get hit by the storm while at sea. I would definitely end up puking then.
“Hey, Voodoo Lady!” Shaggy Hair was smiling lopsidedly at me, a beer in his hand. “You’re the only sober one left. How pathetic is that?” I looked around me. Yup. Everyone was having a blast, completely oblivious to the danger we could be in. Even Sky was swaying giddily, her eyes not focusing on anything in particular.
“I’d better not be the only sober one,” I called back over the engine, jerking my thumb at Bryan, where he stood steering the boat. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his upper lip, and underneath his tan his face was bloodless. Several empty plastic cups lay crumpled at his side, and I realized with a flash of horror that I was, in fact, the only sober one on board.
“Come on, you prude,” he said, his voice suddenly in my ear. I jerked around to find that Shaggy Hair was standing right next to me, smiling. “One shot, and I’ll leave you alone.”
My eyes widened. “You promise? Because that’s all I really want – for you to leave me alone.” I kept glancing back at Bryan, fear swelling up inside me. I looked at Tanya and Sky, where they were laughing and dancing like nothing was wrong. Our captain was drunk, we were about to get hit by a monumental storm, and I was the only one who was worried. I snatched the shot glass from Shaggy Hair. I tossed it back without hesitation, and then said huskily, “Get me another one, would you?”
Shaggy Hair hooted, his face flushed. “Yes, ma’am!”
After choking down another shot of whatever that was, I started to feel a bit calmer. I made my way to Bryan and asked, “Um, is there something I can do to help?”
Bryan didn’t even look at me as rain droplets started to splash against the control panel. “Could you get everyone to put on a life jacket and get below, mate? This is gonna be a bad one.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I answered doubtfully. I grabbed a few life jackets and stumbled back out to where the drunks had finally noticed it was starting to rain. The women started laughing, their faces upturned into the now rapidly falling droplets. This was going to be like herding cats. I started with Sky and Tanya. “Guys, the storm is here. Let’s try and get everyone below before someone ends up overboard.”
Tanya glanced at me, and I could tell what she was thinking. Of course I was the only person not having a good time. Of course I was the only person with a stick up her ass. Of course I was the one trying to ruin everybody’s fun. I would have been rigid with fury, but those two shots were working their magic. My joints were made of rubber. I pointed to Bryan, who was mopping his brow with the tail of his shirt. “T, your boy asked that you put this on and get down below. Don’t fight me.”
That convinced her, and before I knew it, I had managed to get everyone below deck, if not in a life jacket. The cabin was small, stuffy, and crowded with, well, drunks. Body odor and the smell of alcohol mingled in the stagnant heat, and I felt my stomach leap into my throat. The storm was getting worse, and the waves tossed the catamaran like a toy in the bathtub. The boat pitched from side to side, and as I stood pressed between Shaggy Hair and Sky, I suddenly knew I was going to throw up.
“Sabrina! Where are you going?” Sky cried, her own face a light shade of green.
“I’ll be back,” I mumbled. “I’m going to be sick.” At that moment, one of the frat boys retched noisily on the floor, and I knew I had to get the hell out of the cabin. I squeezed past the sweaty
bodies and up the ladder, nearly falling as the boat rocked to the left. Above, the rain pelted down mercilessly, and Captain Bryan, drenched and panicked, was trying to radio someone, anyone.
“Get back below!” he yelled at me as I rushed to the metal railing and puked up a combination of hard alcohol, Bahama Mama, and chicken fingers. I wiped my mouth and looked at him, shaking my head. The rain felt good, and I wasn’t just about to go back down there. He yelled a series of incoherent curses at me, saying something about the compass not working.
As the cabin door began to push open – probably by the passengers who didn’t want to sit amongst the heat, sweat, and vomit – Bryan kicked it shut forcefully, leaning against it and padlocking it with one swift movement. “No one else is getting out of there until this storm is over,” he yelled angrily, flashing a look at me.
I lay down on the slippery deck, gripping the railing with one hand. I just wanted it to stop. I would do anything for this feeling to go away. Anything. I tried to roll on my back, but my backpack, which I had so cleverly strapped on over my life jacket, prevented me from doing so. I didn’t have the energy to tear it off, so I just lolled on my side, my hair matted to my face, looking up into the most frightening sky I’d ever seen. The clouds reached down to the sea like ghostly hands, illuminated from behind by an unearthly glow.
Suddenly the boat lurched violently. I felt my skull crack against the fiberglass hull, my body thrown like a ragdoll into the air. I’m not sure if I screamed. I’m pretty sure I didn’t, considering I couldn’t even get up the energy to flail or grab for something. I tasted salt water, felt it burn my eyes. It filled my ears and nose, pulled at my limbs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tell which way the surface was. The life jacket and backpack pulled in opposite directions, one dragging me down, the other trying to break the waves, both riding up around my neck. I shook my head in distress, and the backpack covered my face. Suddenly, death seemed like a welcome reprieve to the sea sickness, to the battering of the sea. My head hit something hard again, and the next thing I saw was my daughter Sophie’s face when she was four or five months old, smiling her toothless smile, her chubby hands reaching for me...
