"Hallo Adi, are the guests on board?"
We had been booked by a women's choir from Nebraska who had come to sing in the baptist church of Hamburg.
"Yes! And so is your boyfriend!"
Do you sometimes want to hug a stranger and cry helplessly in their arms?
But what could I do? There was no way around it anymore.
Ryan was lounging against the doorframe leading up to Adolf's cubicle, in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, a pair of converse shoes and Ray Ban sunglasses. Had it not been for the forty-five middle-aged women excitedly beaming at me from the aft-deck benches, I would have crossed over to Heidi's port-side rail and would have jumped head first into the river.
Instead, I waved back at them calling out "Hello! Good Morning! Are you ready?" and grabbed the wireless microphone from its usual box on the safety-vest container.
"Hello, darling," a voice murmured into my ear and I swirled around. Before I could say anything Ryan had wound his arm around my waist. He pulled me against himself and he kissed me right on the mouth.
The women's choir was hooting and clapping.
"What was that?" I whispered.
He smiled. "How do you think I greet my girlfriend in the morning?"
I coughed and turned on the microphone.
"Yes. Good morning again. My name's Jude and this is my crazy boyfriend."
More Applause.
I bowed.
This was my turf and as long as the microphone was on, I was in performance mode. Things only got critical when the audience was gone. I believe actors feel the same way too.
"Our captain's name is Adolf and he has a moustache, but don't worry, he's completely domesticated and he won't come down from his command bridge at all. In fact, I'm going to join him up there now to make sure he knows where he's going."
I turned off the microphone and hurled myself into the tiny cubicle where I could sit next to Adolf on a bar stool.
"Your boy knows a lot about ships."
"Ah…" I mumbled. "What did he tell you?"
"He owns an old barge and he loves working on it. He asked me some questions about Heidi and the other ladies, how we maintain them, you know, technical stuff."
"Adolf," I sighed, "I don't see why you don't do the tours in English yourself if you're able to discuss such matters with him."
"Ah, no. You do it so much better. Anyway, I'm happy when I can shut up for a while."
As if he ever did.
Adolf and Heidi made it to ten harbour cruises a day in the high season and even when I was there to do a foreign language tour, he would prattle on and on, telling me all the old jokes over and over again. He had retired from life at sea twenty years ago, when he got belatedly married and fathered a daughter, his pride and joy. Before, he had been a real captain to vast bulk carrier ships crossing the Atlantic and he was also a walking marine encyclopaedia.
I was breathing deeply to get my heart rate down to a bearable limit.
"Anything interesting in today?"
"We have a few big container ships over at the Eurogate terminal, an aircraft carrier by Dock 17 and oh, finally, finally we can see the old lady. She left her hangar."
"Who?"
"The Myrtle! You'll see. A luxury yacht from 1951, incredible!"
"Ah. I see."
I glanced around and saw Ryan sitting among the elderly choirgirls, merrily chatting up a chubby blonde Nebraskan and her emaciated friend. He looked up, saw me and winked.
So much for my heart rate.
Heidi moved away from the quay and off we went, first towards the old warehouses, then on to the futuristic concert hall, a three-hundred feet high crystal body resting on top of a massive brick storehouse.
It was the city's unfinished symphony, almost done, throwing mind blowing reflections onto the water, but still missing half the roof.
I made all the usual jokes about the cost explosion and the delay. At the same time Adolf kept reporting his daughter's progress at university to me. She wanted to take a term in Korea.
We crossed into a sidearm and underneath the impressive suspended bridge called Köhlbrandbrücke, towards the container terminals where ships with a length of over a thousand feet and a capacity of up to sixteen-thousand containers were loaded and unloaded.
We could also see the elegant residences and villas at the opposite bank, with the L'Oiseau D'Or figuring prominently among them.
Adolf gave me the exact details on every barge, tugboat, crane or lorry we encountered. I knew a lot of it myself by experience, but he was an infinite source of new information. He proudly showed me how he now researched the ships and their movements directly on his tablet computer which he could connect by satellite to locate any registered ship with a precision of 3 inches, no matter where in the world it currently was.
Actually I wished he was spending more time looking forward at the river traffic than at his silly tablet's screen.
Whenever I glanced back, I saw Ryan busily taking photographs with his phone or pointing out something to the ladies. He obviously had a good time. So, I thought cynically, his weekend's entertainment package was still to his satisfaction. Well. Maybe I would get a good tip.
I explained the fish market and the former Danish border houses until we turned into another sidearm, leading up to the shipyards.
And there she was.
Myrtle.
We were still half a mile away and she did not look as big as I knew her to be. But when we got closer, I saw a van parked next to her and I perceived her true proportions.
Of course, nowadays, there are mega-yachts three times as big as her. Some sheiks and some russian oligarchs seem to make it their personal game to own the biggest yacht on the planet and anyway, I see a lot of yachts in my profession, I had even been on one or two, so I was detached enough when talking about the how long, how big and how much, but Myrtle was something else. Myrtle was somehow alive.
She looked incredibly friendly with her tubby white body and the two red stripes along her hull, one burgundy and one cherry red.
Her windows were an assortment of square eyes, watching our progress. It actually looked as if the boat was smiling!
I turned around to see what Ryan was up to.
He was standing now, arms crossed, and leaned against the rail. His face was impassive and totally calm, but his eyes never left Myrtle.
I had seen him look like that before, last night at the hotel lobby. When he had been looking at me.
"Ah, yes…" Adolf beamed. "There she is. Come on, I tell you all about her and you can translate directly."
"Okay," I croaked and brought the microphone up.
"The Myrtle, originally named Lady Blanche, was built in 1951 by Zanetti yachts in Genoa and went under a Greek flag."
I translated.
"She has a length of 69.3 metres and a beam of 12.5 metres, a draft of 4.50. - Make that 225 feet in length, 40 feet in width and a draft of almost 14 feet."
I repeated it in English and saw Ryan nod appreciatively.
Adolf had got it right.
"She has last been officially sailing under the name Aisha in 1972, when she was owned by the Lebanese arms dealer Hani Al-Sharif."
This time Ryan looked up to us, an incredulous smile on his shockingly, shockingly handsome face.
I really wished I could shake myself but I was being watched.
"She was completely refitted, making her now a nice holiday home for eight guests and a crew of twenty."
Ryan nodded some more.
"Her refit with a miniature submarine, six jet skis, four tender boats, two speed boats, a carport for two cars, armed defence systems and eco-friendly technology has come at a cost of eighty million euros, or to you one-hundred-twenty million dollars."
Now Ryan was waving his head from side to side, pulling a face.
I shrugged visibly in order to explain I was only translating what Adolf had told me.
He lifted his thumb upwards.
So it had cost more than that.
My stomach reared.
"The owner is a British entrepreneur who remains anonymous and she's registered in St. John's and therefore now sailing under the flag of Antigua and Barbuda."
I did not translate it.
I still had to get back at my imaginary boyfriend for his pseudo-romantic declaration of love at the L'Oiseau D'Or.
"Today Myrtle is owned by a Saudi-Arabian sheik who has bought her exclusively for his harem, consisting of Czech, Brazilian, Italian and Russian supermodels."
"What are you talking about?" Adolf asked puffing his pipe.
"Nothing."
"So she belongs to that handsome boyfriend of yours, eh?"
I blushed and nodded.
He laughed.
"Well done, little Jude. A girl as clever and as pretty as you— you deserve a billionaire."
I felt terrible about lying to him and I nearly told him the truth, but then Ryan stuck his head in.
"Is my game up?" he asked.
"Yes." Adolf declared. "I hope you'll invite me to a cruise with her when the two of you are married."
"Uh, yes," Ryan mumbled. "Of course."
"Well, Mister," Adolf said, "You have to sit down now and hold on tight because we're coming back to the quay and sometimes that's a bumpy affair with a small ship like my Heidi."
"Aye, aye, Sir…"
Six
"You should be an actress, well done, love!"
One of the Nebraskans pressed a five dollar bill into my hand.
"And your man… ooh, makes me wanna be young again."
I tried a smile.
"Was she the last one?"
My man, who as we all know was nothing of the sort, came up behind me.
"Yes."
"How's the booty?"
"Thirty-two euros and twelve dollars."
"Not bad, you can buy me a calf's foot smoothie at the abattoir. I've been thinking of nothing else."
"Really."
"Well, almost."
He turned me around, smiled deviously and wanted to kiss me again.
"Wait! What are you doing?" I breathed.
"Practising," he whispered. "You know, I've been thinking about it last night, we need to practise or it won't look authentic tomorrow."
"Aha… I—"
One of his hands came up behind me and settled at the nape of my neck so I could not pull away.
An army of butterflies took flight in my body.
He kissed me very softly at first, his lips only brushing mine. Then the tip of his tongue was there and gently nudged against my upper lip, teasing me to join in.
Every cell in my brain was buzzing until one of them signalled the nerves in my jaw muscles to stop clenching.
I opened my mouth ever so slightly and there I was, kissed for real, by Ryan Corvera-Fabergé on board of barge Heidi. At Pier 6.
"Get a room, you two," Adolf rumbled, "Heidi has to work again in ten minutes, you can't distract the old girl."
"What does he want?" Ryan asked and let go of me.
"He's kicking us out."
"I see. We need to practise some more, you're still too tense, my dear."
I crinkled my nose.
He took me by the hand and dragged me off the Heidi.
"You can't stand there stiff as a celery when I kiss you. Corinna will think you booked me for the night."
"Would we have to kiss at all?"
He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."
"There's still time to call it off.
"What? And spoil all the fun? Come here."
He pushed me against a pylon. "Put your arms around me."
I obeyed.
Right away I felt the hardness of his body against my own. There was not an ounce of fat on the man!
He kissed me again and I held on to him as if my life depended upon it. I swear, he could have lifted my skirt then and there, I would not have blinked an eye.
But alas, he did not lift my skirt.
He let go off me and leaned his head sideways.
"Better. B minus."
I pushed him away. "I object to ratings."
"I'll give you a break. How do we get to the abattoir? I told the driver I wouldn't need him until much later but he's on standby."
"We can take the tube, it's only three stops."
"The tube!" he gasped.
"Have you never ridden on the tube before?"
"Yes, I have…"
"When?"
"Airports. And there was a convention area in Singapore where they had something like it."
I laughed. "You've never ridden on the tube!"
"Why would I? Why would I go on the tube when I can take a taxi or a limo?"
"Because it's cheaper and very often it's much faster too. No traffic jams."
"Okay, but you'll have to hold my hand and occasionally canoodle me to keep up my courage."
With an exasperated sigh I started walking.
"I played a lot of rugby in school and polo is rather physical as well. I'm prepared to be robbed."
"We won't be robbed. Come on!"
As predicted, we were not assaulted on our five minute ride to the old abattoir but the train was pretty crowded thanks to the aforementioned tourist invasion. It was a happy atmosphere.
"Not too bad," Ryan pronounced upon getting off. "But it smelled of fish rolls."
"That's because people were eating them."
"Why would they, when there are so many more delicious things to eat?" He put an arm around me and bit into my neck. "You have to stop jumping when I do that."
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
How I wished I could have stopped jumping when he touched me, but the voices in my head were loudly debating, demanding my full attention. It went something like this:
'He wouldn't kiss you if he didn't like you. He really finds you attractive.'
'No way, he's only having fun with you. You know exactly how little these things mean to men.'
'He enjoys making you nervous.'
'They all want to sleep with you. He wants free sex and that's it.'
'No, no. He's trying to help.'
'Face it. You're his weekend entertainment. Nothing more.'
'Come on, you'll never get a guy like that. Never.'
'He loves you.'
'SHUT UP!' all the voices shouted in unison at the last one.
"Where do we meet your friend?"
"Over there at the Coffee Factory. But we're a bit early."
The café was already heavily occupied by Hamburg's stylish youth and those who considered themselves stylish and young.
"Plenty of gays," Ryan whispered. "If you won't be more cooperative, I might change over to the other side."
"What, you're not gay? I didn't think straight men could dress as well as you do."
"Monster," he growled and pulled me close again.
I braced myself and told the voices in my head to sod off and let me judge things as they came up. I was a grown up woman, I could handle him. This shy maiden attitude was really quite silly.
Who cared if he just wanted to have some fun? I wanted to have some fun, too. The situation was beyond crazy anyway, why not have it all?
With this in mind I really leaned in and wrapped my arms around the low of his back.
"Hello, there…" His arms closed around me and we kissed for a minute or so with some abandon. When he let go of me, there was his strange look again.
"So, was this finally an A?" I inquired with exaggerated playfulness to overcome the awkwardness of his silence. In truth I was ready to faint.
"I think so," he replied curtly.
"JUDY!" A voice yelled into my ear. "Iiiih! That's YOU deepwater snogging in public! How disgusting!"
Tina stared at us, beheld Ryan's beautiful countenance and went white in the face.
She was a pretty, petite brunette, always glowing with a nice tan, but right there she looked like so
mebody terminally ill.
"That's Ryan," I blurted.
"Fuck off…" Tina mouthed, eyes wide open.
Suddenly she pursed her lips and pointed at him.
"Show me your passport," she said with her American accent acquired taking an MBA at Yale.
"What?" Ryan flinched.
"Show me your passport! I don't believe her."
He chuckled and reached into his back pocket, handing her his purse.
"I only have a driver's license and a few credit cards. The passport is in the hotel safe."
She opened it.
"This is sick. You don't exist."
"I had the same discussion with Poppy Jude yesterday."
She pulled out a black credit card. "THIS is sick." She held it out to me.
I nodded.
"I need chocolate," Tina concluded.
"I believe that can be remedied." Ryan took back his purse. "Look, there's a free bench over there. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you girls whatever you like with my black credit card. If it covers the expense."
As soon as he disappeared, Tina slapped me on the arm.
"Confess. When did you contact him? Did you track him down online?"
"I didn't! He simply stood there at the Deli yesterday!"
"And he agreed to play along, just like that, eh? Come on, Jude, you don't fool me."
"I swear, at first I thought you had played the prank on me and somehow got in touch with him."
"No, I didn't."
"I know, he's here to pick up Myrtle."
"Who's Myrtle? His wife?"
"His yacht."
"Holy shit. Listen, Jude. Whatever you do, don't sleep with him. You know exactly what's going to happen otherwise."
"Why does everybody think I want to sleep with him?"
"Oh please!"
"I just don't think he wants to sleep with me."
"I think he wants to sleep with you right here on this table!"
"You think so?"
Billionaire on Board Page 5
