by Tripp Ellis
"Denise scoffed. "As if I have time for a relationship. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't tell you two about it."
I pretended to be offended.
"Please, I get enough shit about the guys I date from my father. I don't need it from you guys as well."
"I would never give you shit."
"No, you’d just go beat the guy up if you didn't approve."
"Only if he was an ass."
"Believe me, I've dated a lot of asses."
"Well, maybe one of these days you’ll trade up," I said with a cocky grin, then took a sip of my beer.
Denise rolled her eyes. "Newsflash. The whole cocky, charming thing isn't going to work on me."
"If you say so," I said dryly.
She scowled at me playfully.
"Don't worry. I would never break Sheriff Daniels’s rule. Besides, you and I would never work, anyway."
Denise arched a curious eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"We just wouldn't. You wouldn't put up with my shit. I wouldn't put up with your shit. We'd be a disaster. I mean, it could be a fun disaster. Tempestuous. Stormy. Dangerous." I smiled.
Denise rolled her eyes again. "Well, I guess we'll never find out."
I acted disinterested, turning slightly away. "I guess so."
"How's Madison?" Denise asked, steering the conversation in a more benign direction.
"She's good."
"Does she know what she's having yet?"
"Nope. She still wants it to be a surprise."
"Do you know?" Denise asked, leaning closer.
"No. And I wouldn't tell you if I did." I flashed a smug grin.
She smacked my arm, playfully. "You're just mean."
"No. I'm loyal."
She thought about it for a moment, then sighed, "Okay. I can't argue with that."
"Can I get you another round?" Rose asked, strolling by at just the right moment.
"No thanks," Denise said. "I'm dangerously close to poor life decisions as it is."
Rose laughed. "I'll be back with the tab."
When Rose returned, Denise snatched the check before I could get to it. "I can pay for my own drinks."
“I thought I owed you a beer, or two?”
“I think I like having you in my debt.”
I raised my hands in surrender. "Far be it from me to pass up free alcohol."
Denise stuffed a wad of cash inside the leather folio and left a healthy tip.
We left Aqualung and stepped onto the sidewalk. It was a Saturday night, and the avenue bustled with activity. Revelers strolled up and down the sidewalks, hopping from bar to bar. The glow from neon signs painted the avenue in an array of colors. Music from live bands echoed through the thick night air.
We strolled down the block to her yellow SUV, and I climbed in the passenger seat. We headed back to the marina, and she pulled her vehicle around to the dock.
"Thanks again for the drinks," I said.
"My pleasure."
"Next round is on me. I insist."
I hesitated a moment before hopping out of the car. I wanted to invite her aboard, but thought that might be a bad idea. Fuck it. Why not? "You want to see the boat?"
Her eyes narrowed at me, skeptical. “I’ll see it tomorrow.”
“Good. Because I didn’t really want to show it to you tonight, anyway.”
She scowled at me. After a moment of thought, she said, "Just a tour of the boat. That's all. Not a tour of your stateroom."
I shrugged innocently. "You have a dirty mind."
She sneered at me, then looked out over the water. Her eyes widened, and she pointed to the super-yacht. “That’s not it, is it?”
7
“Holy shit, that’s big!” Denise exclaimed as we strolled down the dock to the Vivere.
I couldn't resist the urge to mutter, "That's what she said."
Denise smacked my arm, playfully.
“It’s only 8 feet longer than the Wild Tide.”
JD’s impromptu party had long since dissipated, and none of the original horde of revelers remained in Diver Down.
The waves lapped against the hull, and the boats in the marina gently swayed. We crossed the retractable gangway, traversing over the swim platform which held an 8 foot tender. We stepped aboard the aft deck of the Vivere and Denise’s eyes lit up with awe.
"Wow! This is nicer than your other boat."
"Thank you."
There was a U-shaped lounge in the aft deck with an alfresco dining area. The Hi-Lo table was topped in carbon fiber. There was aft storage under the settee and several refrigerated compartments about the cockpit. A summer galley with a grill made cookouts on the water a breeze. Steps on either side led down to the hydraulic swim platform. A port-side staircase led up to the flybridge which was complete with a second helm, a lounge area, minibar, and a jacuzzi.
Through the sliding glass door, we entered the salon.
Buddy greeted us with excitement, tail wagging, bouncing like a maniac. Denise knelt down and loved on the energetic pooch.
There was a sofa to port and starboard, and a Hi-Lo flatscreen TV to port. Forward, there was a minibar with glassware stowage, a refrigerator, and an ice maker. To port was the dining area. Forward of that was a day head to port, across from the galley. There was a two-seat helm control with touchscreen displays, joystick control of the bow and stern thrusters, and every conceivable nautical gadget. To port of the helm was another small lounge area with an L-shaped settee and a Hi-Lo table.
The boat had elegant curves and sleek lines. Large windows bathed the interior with light on sunny afternoons. A centerline staircase led to the lower deck, which contained a full beam master suite with a queen birth and en suite. There were two VIP guest suites with queen births and private en suites, and another guest suite with four stacked twins and an en suite. Two crew compartments were located aft of the engine room.
The overall length was 80’6” with a 22’4” max beam. The draft was 6’2” at full load. Two 1800 MHP V12 engines gave the Vivere a max speed of 28 knots.
There was another lounge on the foredeck with a U-shaped setee, carbon fiber cocktail table, and large sunpads. A retractible electric awning provided shade when needed.
The craftsmanship was impeccable, and only the finest materials were used.
The boat was a wreck after the party—empty beer cans and drink glasses everywhere.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” I said.
Buddy finally calmed down. I gave Denise a tour, and her luscious green eyes took in the opulent appointments.
"I have to admit, this is really nice. You two have outdone yourselves."
"Not bad for a starter yacht," I said with a grin.
She chuckled. "I'd say."
There was a long pause as our eyes lingered on each other.
"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow?"
"We’ll have fun! JD can regale you with tales of pirate treasure."
"Is he still looking for that?"
"Oh, he's serious about it. We lost our remote sonar scanner on the Wild Tide, but he's got another one on order. He’s determined to find the lost fortune of the great pirate Jacques De La Fontaine."
"And what are you two going to do when you find it?”
I shrugged. “Raise hell, drink margaritas, chase women.”
“Isn't that exactly what you do now?"
I smiled. "Pretty much. But the hunt is half the fun."
She grinned. "Yes, it is."
Denise spun around and sauntered toward the aft deck. She had a nice saunter.
"Sure you don't want to stay for one drink?" I asked.
She looked back over her shoulder as she reached the glass sliding door. "Like I said, I'm one drink away from poor life decisions."
"Then maybe you should have two?" I suggested.
"Good night, Tyson."
She slid open the door and stepped into the cockpit. Denise traversed the gangway, and I stepped to
the aft deck, watching her as she strolled to her vehicle. There was no longer a serial killer running around Coconut Key, but you could never be too careful.
Buddy's paws clacked against the deck as he joined me. I knelt down and petted him, and he basked in the attention. I leashed him up and took him for a walk. Afterward, I cleaned up the boat, then settled into bed for the evening.
Buddy curled beside me.
I was still getting used to the new digs. The boat didn't quite feel like home yet, but that was only a matter of time. I watched a little TV, catching a replay of the MotoXP race before sacking out.
The morning sun burst through the array of square portholes, filling the room. I yawned, stretched, and staggered out of bed. I pulled on board shorts and made my way to the galley and fixed breakfast.
JD arrived as I downed the last of the scrambled eggs. His face crinkled. "You didn't save any for me?"
“You should have told me you wanted breakfast.“
Jack frowned.
He moved into the galley and poured himself coffee, then sauntered back to the dining table and took a seat across from me. "Do we have enough beer?"
"I think we have plenty enough to get us through the day."
"One can never be too prepared."
“There’s whiskey and rum once the beer runs out.”
"Do we have any idea about this friend of Denise’s? Do you think she's hot?"
I shrugged. "They tend to run in packs, so I'm guessing so."
A devious smile curled on Jack's lips.
"How did things go with the brunette last night?" I asked.
"Dude… Have I got a story for you."
"I can only imagine."
"So, I get over to her place. One thing leads to another, and we're going at it hot and heavy on the couch. Her little Chihuahua is sitting there watching the whole thing, looking up at me with those eyes, thinking you mother fucker. I usually have a rule about women with small yappy dogs, but that's another story entirely. Then the roommate walks in the door.
“We’re buck naked.
“Sasha doesn't even stop. She's going for broke.
“The roommate, Tasha, is 5’3”, blonde, got one of those fitness bodies. She's wearing a lacy black top, a black miniskirt that barely covers her hootenanny, and 6” fuck me pumps.
“She stops and watches for a moment. Then she says, looks like fun."
"And...?" I asked.
JD was about to continue the story when Denise showed up with her friend, Jordyn.
Wow!
Jordyn was nothing short of stunning. A blonde haired, blue-eyed goddess with all-natural assets that defied gravity.
Jack and I both lost our trains of thought, and our jaws hit the floor. We tried to shovel our tongues back into our mouths as the girls strutted across the gangway and into the cockpit.
The two girls wore skimpy sundresses and carried tote bags with beach towels, sunscreen, and whatever else they might need.
This was certainly going to be an interesting day.
8
Denise introduced Jordyn, and JD got the girls a beer.
“This is an impressive boat,” Jordyn said.
“Thank you,” JD replied.
“I could get used to this.”
“I’m sure we could get used to you being here.”
Jordyn smiled.
We disconnected shore power and water, then cast off the lines. JD took the helm and idled out of the marina. It was a beautiful start to the day. Gulls hung on the breeze overhead. The sun glimmered across the water, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
JD throttled up the boat, and we plowed through the water like a freight train, leaving a frothy trail of white water.
Jordyn peeled off her sundress, and the ring spun cotton hit the deck.
I tried not to stare.
The fabric of her skimpy bikini screamed for mercy. Her pert breasts begged for liberation. They were determined to spring free of the overstuffed teeny bikini. I was sure a wardrobe malfunction would happen at some point during the day.
Not to be outdone, Denise followed suit.
My God, the two of them standing there, wearing barely nothing, was almost too much to handle. I wasn't complaining, mind you. I used my best covert skills to soak in every sumptuous curve without being too obvious about it—I pretended to act thoroughly disinterested.
The girls knew better.
"Denise tells me you work together at the Sheriff's Office."
I nodded.
"You’re the guy who caught the Sandcastle Killer, right?"
I nodded again.
Her eyes brightened. "That sounds so exciting!"
I shrugged. "I guess."
"I can see why Denise has been keeping you all to herself."
Denise’s cheeks flushed, and she glared at Jordyn.
Jordyn knew she was embarrassing Denise and decided to keep going. "She can't stop talking about you, you know?"
I pretended to be surprised. "Really? I had no idea."
I gave a cocky glance to Denise.
"Jordyn has an overactive imagination," Denise said.
"Oh, come on! You're always going on about him. Tyson this… Tyson that…"
I tried not to grin too much.
Denise squinted at me and shook her head. "Don't pay attention to her. She likes to cause trouble."
"Who me?" Jordyn asked, innocently.
"Yes, you!" Denise replied. "You promised to behave."
Jordyn smiled. "Please, a little mischief is good for the soul." A naughty glimmer flickered in her eyes. "If I get out of line, Tyson can always handcuff me and throw me in a cell for bad girls." She said in a pouty voice. Jordyn jiggled her bum. “I don’t mind a little punishment.”
Denise shook her head.
“I’ll go look for my handcuffs.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Denise said.
It didn't take long to reach Barracuda Key Island. The sandbar party was in full effect. Hundreds of small boats were anchored in the shallow water. A sea of revelers waded in the teal sea.
The draft of the Vivere was too deep for the shallow water above the sandbar. We anchored the boat offshore and took the tender into the shallows. We loaded up with beer, snacks, and bottled water.
People mixed and mingled in the waist deep water, drinking beer and taking Jell-O shots. There were all types, ranging from tanned hard summer bodies to soft couch potatoes. There were jiggling fleshy mounds, rippled abs, beer bellies, oversized bodybuilders, bald sunburned heads, and pasty white tourist skin that hadn't seen the sun in a year. It was mostly locals, but a few vacationers had been clued into the scene.
A live band cranked out classic rock from a pontoon boat.
The sandbar was maybe 50 yards from the pristine beach—white sand and palm trees.
The water was warm, and the air smelled like barbecue. People floated around on giant ducks, inflatable pink flamingos, inner tubes, rafts, and floating lounge chairs. A massive beach ball bounced around the crowd.
I climbed out of the tender into the waist deep water, and the girls followed suit. We anchored the inflatable boat, grabbed a few beers from the ice chest, and mingled through the crowd.
Partiers bonged beer, funneling 12 ounces down their throats in less than a second. They swigged from bottles of whiskey or tequila, bounced in rhythm to the music, and let their cares float away.
This kind of thing happened every weekend, though the crowds were always bigger on holidays.
The sandy bottom conformed to the soles of my feet as I trudged through the shallow water.
A tanned brunette strolled by, wearing a skimpy bikini and carrying a giant squirt gun. “Do you want a shot?"
"Hit me," Jordyn said.
She opened her mouth, and the brunette aimed the squirt gun which looked like a futuristic space weapon. Her manicured fingers squeezed the trigger twice, squirting an unknown liquor into Jordyn's mouth.
Jordyn guzzl
ed it down and gasped afterward. She shouted an excited, “Whooo!”
It wasn't even noon yet, and Jordyn was ready to get rowdy. She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the water. "Let's go see the band!”
I looked over my shoulder at Denise, who had a perturbed look on her face.
I shrugged innocently and flashed an apologetic smile.
We weaved through the crowd, moving closer to the band barge. Jordyn bounced around, dancing to the beat.
"So, what's the real story between you and Denise?" Jordyn asked.
"No story."
"She swears you two haven't hooked up, but I'm not sure I buy it."
"We're coworkers. That would be against office policy."
She scoffed. Then she asked with a mischievous grin, "Don't you ever break the rules, Mr. Wild?"
I didn't answer.
"Well, it's a good thing we don't work together." She grabbed my arm and pulled herself close "I don't know how long I could hold out."
She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue eyes and batted her lashes. This girl oozed sensuality.
"Don't you think that might upset Denise?"
"So, there is something going on?"
"No."
"I mean, she told me you were fair game. She wasn't going to break office policy," Jordyn said with air quotes.
“Fair game, huh?”
Jordyn danced away with a grin, putting in extra jiggle in her assets, taunting me.
Two girls floated by on a giant pink flamingo and handed her an orange Jell-O shot. Jordyn slurped it out of the plastic container. It was probably safe, but I never ingested anything from strangers. You never really knew what was in it.
Jordyn was definitely a free spirit. She bounced back toward me with a devious glimmer in her eyes. She twirled around, parked her glorious cheeks against my hips, and twerked. She bent over and ground her assets against me.
Too much more of that, and I might have to take her up on her offer.
The last thing I needed was to create an awkward situation with Denise. We had a good working relationship, and I didn't want to screw that up. Banging her friend at a sandbar party might not be a good idea.
Jordyn was quite enticing, and I don't think too many men ever told her no.
She stood up, raised her hands in the air and twirled around, then backed away a few steps, teasing me. She was working it pretty hard. And for a moment, I wondered if this was a setup? Did Denise tell her friend to hit on me to see if I would take the bait?
