Sleeping with the Fishes (v1.1)

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “You don’t get off that lucky,” Jonas muttered.

  Fred was about to retort when her cell rang. Irritably she plucked it off her hip and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

  “Dr. Bimm?” It was Dr. Barb. “I see by the sheet that you and Thomas are signing out the Lollipop today.”

  Oops. “Yeah.”

  “I think, in light of what happened last time, I feel strongly that—wait. I’ll come out.”

  “But—” Fred was talking to a dead line. “Dammit. Good thing you’re here, Jonas. I’m going to need you to distract—”

  “Good morning, Little Rika.”

  “Hey, Fred.”

  “Howdy, fellas.” She pulled Jonas to the side so the men could board the ship. “I’ll be right there.”

  She turned to Jonas. “Okay, now it’s really good that you’re not coming.”

  Jonas shrugged. “Who cares?”

  “Jonas, whoever the bimbo is, forget about her! She’s obviously a moron of the highest order and you’re way too good for her. So put the bitch out of your mind and focus on me now, please.”

  “Oh, it’s Fred time. Must be Tuesday. Or one of the other six days of the week.”

  “Sarcasm does not become you,” she said stiffly. “And furthermore—”

  “Hi, Dr. Bimm!”

  They looked. Madison was scampering up the ramp, waving. She wore a peach-colored shell (did she have a closet full of them, in all different colors?) and khaki pants that showed her pubic bone.

  “My God,” Jonas muttered. “I can see her five o’clock shadow.”

  Madison screeched to a halt in front of them. “Hi, you guys! Are you going out in the ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come with? I can look for dolphins.”

  “No.”

  “Besides,” Jonas said kindly, “there aren’t any dolphins in—”

  “Oh please please? I won’t be any trouble, I swear. You won’t even know I’m there!”

  “That,” Fred said, “is a lie.”

  Madison looked crushed. “Well… maybe your friend can keep me company.” She batted her long lashes at Jonas. Actually batted her lashes! Fred didn’t think women did that anymore.

  “Thanks anyway, honey,” Jonas said, “but I’m in mourning for my sex life.”

  “You—oh. Oh.” Fred watched while Madison jumped to the conclusion that Jonas was gay. Normally she’d be irritated for her friend and wouldn’t hesitate to correct the mistake, but in this case, Madison was doing Jonas a huge favor.

  Furthermore, Dr. Barb was here, approaching them rapidly. Jonas had his back to her, but from where she was standing Fred had a perfect view of—a navy blue suit?

  She stared. And stared more when Dr. Barb saw them and dramatically slowed her trot. In fact, she stopped altogether. And if Fred didn’t know better, she’d think Dr. Barb was standing like that to… pose?

  “Holy cow!” Madison peeped. “Dr. Barb got a haircut! And new clothes!”

  Jonas’s eyes bulged and he whipped around like it was the boogeyman coming up behind him instead of good old Dr. Barb.

  “Jeez,” Fred said, impressed. “She looks really good. I had no idea she had such a cute figure under those lab coats.”

  He whipped back around and now he was glaring at her. “Well, if you’ve noticed, it must be a bona fide transformation.”

  “Easy there, Bitchy McGee. Don’t take your bad week out on me. I’m in charge of taking my bad weeks out on you.”

  Dr. Barb was slowly(?) making her way up the ramp leading to the loading dock. The clipboard she was holding was forgotten, hanging from one hand down by her side. Jonas turned back around to watch her walk up to them.

  “Hi…Jonas.”

  “Hi, Barb.”

  “I, uh, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “You, too. You look beautiful.”

  Dr. Barb—eh?—blushed.

  Blushed?

  “It was, um, a little scary to come in today. I’m afraid I’ve been avoiding you.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve been avoiding you, too.”

  Fred turned to Madison. “Go clean out the lobster tanks.”

  “But this is much more—”

  She gave the younger woman a helpful shove, almost knocking her into the bay. “Bye, now.”

  Meanwhile, Dr. Barb and Jonas were staring into each other’s eyes, oblivious of the nauseating picture they presented.

  “I’m so sorry I ran out like that. It was all just such a—”

  “That’s okay,” Jonas said, coming to life for the first time all day. “I kind of sprung it on you.”

  “Oh, no! I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was too silly to realize the enormous compliment you were paying me. I’d—I’d really like to go somewhere private and talk about it.”

  “You—you would?”

  Fred, who had been staring back and forth like she was watching a tennis match, broke in. “You would?”

  Jonas reached out. Dr. Barb put her small, chubby hand in his. They started walking down the ramp together. Suddenly Dr. Barb turned, waved the clipboard, and said, “Have a nice ride, Dr. Bimm!”

  “Have a nice ride? Don’t you remember what happened last time? Don’t you care about my welfare? And why are you holding hands with my best friend?”

  Jonas waved without even turning around. “Bye, Fred.”

  “Stop that! Stop that immediately! I don’t have time for more complications right now! Jonas! Get your hands off my boss! Jonas! Joooonaaaassss!” Then, in a near whimper, “Dr. Barb?”

  Luckily, Jonas obeyed, dropped Dr. Barb’s hand, and raced back to her. Now that was more like it!

  He sure had gone above and beyond in this whole “distract my boss” thing, but now—

  “Give me the key card,” he hissed.

  “What?”

  “Thomas’s key card! I know he gave you a spare. Hand it over. You guys aren’t going to be back for a while, right?”

  “I’m not giving you the key card to a hotel room that isn’t mine so you can bang my boss!”

  “Yes you are,” Jonas said. “Or I’ll kick your fishy ass right into this harbor. With all the shit.”

  “Fine, take it.” Fred sulkily handed it over. “Unnecessarily complicate my life, see if I care.”

  “Okay. Bye!” He scampered back down the ramp, toward the woman he’d had a crush on for six years.

  “I didn’t mean any of it!” Fred shouted, but the lovebirds ignored her.

  Stifling the urge to kick something, she stomped the rest of the way up the ramp.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Captain O’Donnell was not at all happy to see her.

  “Get this nautical menace off my ship,” he said by way of greeting to Thomas.

  “Calm down, O’Donnell. This is official NEA business.”

  “And my father’s,” Artur piped up, interrupting his conversation with a dazed-looking first mate.

  “Low profile, dumbass,” Thomas snarked.

  “That goes for you, too, dumbass,” Fred said. She turned back to the captain and gave him her nicest smile. He recoiled. “Now, captain, all that stuff is behind us, right? I was a completely different person back then… ignorant, willful—”

  “It was two months ago, Dr. Bimm.”

  “But we’ve both aged decades since then in wisdom, haven’t we.” At his look of disbelief, she added crossly, “Well, I have!”

  O’Donnell turned to his first mate. “When was the last time we had a VSC?”

  Artur sidled over to her. “The king of the ship seems agitated.”

  “It’s a long story, Artur.”

  “What is a VSC?”

  “Vessel Safety Check.”

  The first mate checked a chart and said helpfully, “Two weeks ago yesterday, cap’n.”

  “Hmm. I guess that might be all right.” He shot Fred a distrustful look. “Possibly.”

  Now Thomas was on her left. “Why
is the crew treating you like you’ve brought the plague on board?”

  Fred waved away his concern. “A silly misunderstanding that led to, uh, the sinking of his last boat.” At Thomas’s incredulous stare, she added, “But this one is much nicer than the Fiona. Bigger, prettier. Insurance paid for the whole thing, too.”

  “Dr. Bimm.” O’Donnell had approached her carefully, like she was a rattlesnake. “Please go over there. Sit in that chair. Do not move from that chair until you need to throw up. Those are the circumstances that will allow me to overlook the fact that your name was nowhere on my paperwork for today’s runs.”

  “No problem at all, Captain!” she said with a heartiness she didn’t feel. She was getting off lightly, and she knew it. He had the power to order anyone—even Dr. Barb—off his ship.

  “Little Rika, what did you do?”

  “A trifle. I swear!” She started to head to the chair, tripped over a coil of rope, and went sprawling. She would have skinned her nose on the deck if Artur hadn’t moved like lightning and caught her. “Uh, I hate to trouble you, but if you could carry me over to my assigned chair?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Rika.” He set her down in the chair from which she wouldn’t move until the puking started. “There you are.”

  “Thanks.” To Thomas: “Stop staring and close your mouth.”

  “But—you’re a marine biologist.”

  “I’m aware, Thomas.”

  “But we’re only in the harbor.”

  “I’m aware, Thomas!” She leaned over the railing and tossed the rest of her breakfast into the waves.

  “Little Rika, how is it that you’re ill?”

  “Seasick,” she groaned, and threw up again. Oh, this was just lovely. Just perfect. Two guys had weird crushes on her and she was sexily throwing up.

  “But,” Thomas was hissing in her ear, “you’re a mermaid!”

  “I. Am. Aware. Now get away from me unless you want some on your shoes.”

  Thomas didn’t back away. Instead he leaned on the rail beside her and rubbed her back. “Why didn’t you take any Dramamine?”

  “Because I metabolize it too quickly. I’d have to take forty for it to work and even then I don’t know if—urrgghh.”

  “Fascinating. And disgusting,” he added.

  Now there were two hands rubbing her back. “Little Rika, perhaps we should go back and do this tomorrow when you are not ill.”

  “She’s not coming back tomorrow!” Captain O’Donnell yelled from his cabin, where he and the first mate were frantically counting life jackets, flame arresters, and visual distress signals.

  “Not even if you paid me a million bucks,” she snapped back. Then, quietly, “It’s no good, Artur. The same thing would happen tomorrow.”

  “Uh—how are you two going to get in with me without these guys seeing it?”

  “Trust me, O’Donnell will be thrilled to see me dive off his ship. As long as I stay out of his way, he could care less what Artur and I are doing.”

  “You’re kidding. He’s a maniac about boat safety, but he won’t care if you—”

  “He’s a manic about boat safety. Not passenger safety. Trust me.”

  Thomas shook his head and went to put on his scuba suit.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  They had narrowed down the suspects to the new seafood restaurant (”Cap’n Clammys!”), the new Sleepytime Hotel, and the old (but: recently massively renovated) World Trade Center. The plan was for the three of them to dive in, check out the underwater sites, pipes, and other detritus of construction, and see if they could pinpoint the bad guy. What they would do then, even if they could find a pipe pouring shit from one building, Fred wasn’t sure.

  Artur favored strangling the owner until his neck cracked. Thomas leaned toward ratting them out to the EPA. Fred was torn. Surely the culprit, whoever it was, knew what he (or she) was doing. So there should be a greater consequence than a fine. But neither did she favor murder (though Artur claimed it would be a simple case of self-defense).

  Talk about putting the cart before the horse, she thought, diving in beside Artur as Thomas went, in the scuba-approved fashion, over backward. First we gotta find the guy. (Or gal.) Right now, I’d settle for that.

  Instantly her uneasy stomach settled and she felt loads better. She playfully gave Thomas a pinch (which he probably couldn’t feel through all the rubber) and darted past both men.

  Feeling better, Little Rika?

  Thomas was giving her a cautious thumbs-up.

  Loads. Don’t use your telepathy to exclude Thomas. She gave him the thumbs-up back.

  Do not use my what to do what?

  Never mind. Keep your eyes open. And your nose.

  I confess I do not know how to feel. I have no urge to taste that particular taste again.

  Right there with you, Artur, Oh, look at this.

  Thomas was gesturing them over, shining his undersea light at what she assumed was Cap’n Clammy’s from below.

  Let’s get to it.

  Ah, Little Rika, your devotion to duty is commendable.

  Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was difficult to work the key card when Barb had already yanked his pants halfway down his knees, but Jonas managed. They staggered into the Presidential Suite, struggling with each other’s clothes, kissing, panting, groaning, gasping. Jonas tripped over a divan and down they went.

  “Ooof!”

  “I’m so sorry!” Barb cried, leaning over him. “Are you all right? Am I too heavy? I’ll get off.”

  “Not until I do,” he growled, and yanked her down for another scorching kiss. He heard the thud as one of her pumps hit the carpet (the other one, he was pretty sure, had been abandoned by the door). He undid the one button on her Givenchy jacket and saw the Victoria’s Secret matching navy bra beneath.

  “Don’t you think—” Gasp, moan. “—that this is—” Groan, kiss. “—much better than—” Slobber, sigh. “—lab coats?”

  “I’m not giving them up. I just might stop buttoning them all the way.” She was straddling him, tugging at his belt, when suddenly she went over as well. Now she was the one groaning, “Ooof!” and he was on top.

  Not that he minded being on top.

  “Fuck this,” he laughed. “Let’s go to the bedroom. “

  “A place this big must have one,” she agreed, and he stood and pulled her to her feet.

  In the ridiculously opulent bedroom, he carefully pulled off every item of clothing that he had so carefully picked out. She was considerably less careful; at least two of his shirt buttons were gone and he was afraid she had thrown his belt in the garbage.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Tug, tear. “For three days, I’ve been kicking myself for being such a fool.” Yank, pull. “I had a perfect opportunity and I ran away like a ninny.” Jerk, rip.

  “I’ve been hiding in my apartment for three days,” he said, pushing her back on the bed. “That’s not much better. I just wasn’t up to facing you after what happened.”

  “Yes, but that’s my fault.”

  “Well, like I said, I kind of sprung it on you.”

  “Yes, but like I said, I—”

  “Barb?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m about to live the six year fantasy. Can we stop talking for, um, ten minutes?”

  She grinned up at him. “Ten? Oh, dear.”

  “Look, it’s been a while.”

  “I’ll try to stifle my humiliating laughter.”

  “That’d be great.” He kissed her mouth, her lush, ripe mouth, savoring it so he could replay the moment over and over later, in his lonely bachelor’s bed. He kissed her neck as her fingers ran through his hair (thank God Fred had bullied him into a shower!), as she caressed and stroked.

  He tugged the cups of her bra down, exposing large creamy breasts and pink nipples that hardened when he stroked them gently. She gasped when he
leaned down and sucked one into his mouth.

  “Oh my God—Jonas—it’s been years since—don’t stop.”

  “Like I could if I wanted to.” He kissed her cleavage, stroked one breast while he lavished attention on the other one, and while he was doing that she was yanking at her bra and wriggling out of her underwear.

  She rolled over until she was on top, and jerked and pulled at his shorts until they were on the floor. She looked over her shoulder and stared with some satisfaction at his hard-on.

  “This is no time for a cutting remark,” he warned her.

  “In no way was I thinking of one. I was thinking about how men can be beautiful, too.”

  If possible, he got harder. Definitely the boner of a lifetime. A one-of-a-kind boner, never to be repeated. Yep, there was no topping this bone, no way in Hell.

  “Now fuck me,” Barb growled in her schoolteacher voice. “Right now.”

  He was wrong! And never so thankful for it. He watched in admiration and lust as she straddled his hips with hers, as she seized him firmly in her hot little hand and guided him inside her. She was more than ready for him and he slid all the way in without the smallest bit of resistance.

  “That’s better,” she said cheerfully, and began riding him like a cowgirl. All she needed was the twirling rope.

  He grabbed her hips and surged against her on the downstroke, thinking I’m going to die I’m going to die she’s killing me and thank God thank God…

  “Oh, Jonas, that’s wonderful. Don’t stop!” Bounce, bounce.

  “I thought you weren’t going to talk for ten minutes.” He groaned while she slid up and down with exquisite strokes, while her breasts bobbed before him, begging to be kissed, while her mouth curved into a smile and her eyes sparkled.

  “I never agreed to that,” she said primly, which was a riot given what they were doing.

  “I’s’pose that’s fair.” He felt the familiar rumbling in his balls which meant the festivities would soon be over—he hadn’t gotten off so quickly with a woman since college. He reached and found Barb’s clit and stroked it gently, barely touching it, then more firmly on the downstroke, until she was riding his fingers as she was riding his cock, and then she shivered all over, leaned back, and shrieked at the ceiling.