by Ward, Steve
“What’s wrong with it?” Heather asked with a chuckle.
“Are you nuts? That thing must cost twenty-million dollars.”
“Thirty-five. . .do you want to buy it? It’s for sale,” Heather said with a big grin.
Michael asked, “Who do you know, Christina, Onasis?”
“I don’t know anybody,” she answered, “just a travel agent. It’s ours for the next three days.”
“What do ya mean, ours?” Billy asked.
“Heather and I leased it, fully equipped with a crew of twenty to take care of our every whimsical fantasy.” She beamed with pride. At that moment she was so happy she could cry. It was almost impossible to believe two weeks earlier she had slept on a concrete floor next to her own excrement. “The Ocean Breeze was once owned by Saddam Hussein. The Iraqi Government tried to sell it but hasn’t had any luck, so they lease it to tourists.”
“How much then?” Michael asked.
“More than you can imagine, but we’re not going to talk about money,” she replied. “Just enjoy.”
The yacht was something to behold. The top layer of three decks was equipped to party a large number of guests around a huge swimming pool on one end and a helicopter landing pad at the other. It was like a small cruise ship, but ten times more plush. They entered a large salon with a marble ceiling, fully trimmed in dark teak and shiny brass décor. A buffet brunch was waiting with caviar sprinkled eggs, smoked salmon and a wide variety of other delicacies. After they loaded their plates, they sat together at a thick oak table in the center of the room. For four young people who had been raised in modest circumstances, it was luxury beyond belief.
“Wow, look at all the art. It’s like a museum,” said Heather.
“I’m told it was hand-picked by Sadam Hussein, himself, a few months before Shock and Awe.
“Okay, Christina, I give,” Michael chuckled. “How did you pull this off? You must have pictures of the President. . .with a goat.”
Billy looked at her like he wanted some answers too.
“Well, boys,” she said with an air of mystery putting her arm around Heather’s shoulders. “Never underestimate the female gender. Heather and I have a secret. For years we’ve been reluctant to tell anyone.”
“I love secrets,” Billy said.
“Okay, here goes. A few months after we got off that horrible island, we flew to Great Exuma with Jessica’s treasure map. “
“Jessica?”
“You know, Michael, I told you about her. She was my best friend, killed on that island by drug runners.”
“Oh yeah.” Michael seemed embarrassed he’d forgotten her name.
“We went to Great Exuma like Jessica said. We weren’t expecting to find anything, but we went out on a salvage boat and hit the jackpot.”
“Hey, I remember that gold piece you sent me, I still have it,” Billy said. “So how much? How much did you get?”
“The site is still being worked,” Heather said. “It was loaded with rubies, silver and Spanish gold. The gold alone is worth a hundred-million at today’s prices, but as artifacts it’s worth three times that. So far we’ve netted twenty-million each; that’s after taxes.”
“Twenty-million dollars?” Michael almost choked on the celery he had taken out of his Bloody Mary.
“Not so loud, lover boy.” Christina put her hand over his lips and laughed as she looked around the room. There was only one other person in sight, a man hanging wine glasses behind the bar. “Like I said, we prefer to keep it to ourselves. Only a handful of people know.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Billy spread his hands looking hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.”
“It didn’t seem all that important until now.” Christina shrugged her shoulders. “Since the world is on the brink, last night Heather and I decided we should loosen up a bit and spend some cash. So forget about the money; let’s just enjoy ourselves. God only knows where we will all be in a couple of weeks. Or if. . .”
“I for one love the accommodations,” Heather interrupted, holding out her hand, admiring her long nails and raising her chin in the air. “This is my style. . .what I was born for. Nice work, girl, can’t believe you arranged this so fast. Not a bad boat, not bad at all. What’s the matter, couldn’t you find anything bigger?”
They all broke into laughter, and Christina decided to brief the agenda. “Okay, here’s the deal. This afternoon we can hang around the pool and relax while our ship sails. Tonight we’ll have a formal dinner on the deck under the stars around 8:00 o’clock. Why don’t we meet up in the lounge around seven?”
“But I didn’t bring any formal clothes,” Michael protested. She had instructed him to pack for “three days on a beach.”
“No problem,” she replied. “It’s not the clothes that count, it’s the company. Oh yeah, and the lobster and the best wine money can buy. What do you say we tour this tub then go take a nap. It’s been quite a morning.”
They all nodded in agreement.
“For tomorrow I’ve planned a secret outing,” she said sheepishly.
“What?” Michael asked. “Like, what could be better than this?”
“I’ll never tell.”
They all marched off to explore the Ocean Breeze. It was two-hundred-and-fifty-feet of top luxury class, one that could easily sail around the world. By appearances, one would never know it had been owned by one of the most ruthless dictators who ever lived. There were no Arab or Muslim markings of any kind. It could have just as easily been owned by a Hollywood actor or a dot-com tycoon. The exterior of the yacht was all white, stacked up in three vertical decks. There were ten large staterooms for guests and twenty small bedrooms for crew. The upper level presented an incredible panorama of the ocean. The front deck had a large swimming pool adorned with plenty of plush outdoor furnishings, two hot tubs and a fully stocked bar. The rear deck supported a landing pad for a six-place helicopter. The next layer down was a sky lounge, décor beyond belief. In bad weather, it offered IMAX views, fully encased in glass. A grand piano was there along with another bar and enough tables for an indoor gala. Two layers down was the salon and a fully teaked galley and dining room. Two huge flat screen TVs featured satellite programming, and the library was stocked with hundreds of movies. Between the two layers designed for entertainment was a long string of staterooms and two king-sized suites designed for royalty.
“We get this room!” Heather squealed. She slipped out of her shoes and jumped up on the enormous round bed, bouncing up and down like a child on her first visit to a motel.
“Okay, kid, get off the furniture,” Christina scolded. “What do you think this is, Motel Six?”
Across the way was another suite just as large.
“Where do I bunk?” Michael asked sheepishly. He hadn’t slept with Christina since that night at the lake.
“I was hoping you’d bunk with me.” Christina batted her thick eyelashes. She still rued the things she had said at the cabin. She hoped to be able to make it up to him.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Sleeping alone is not on my agenda. With Armageddon on the horizon, we better enjoy every minute.”
“But you said. . .” A huge grin painted Michael’s face as he threw his bags in the suite.
“Shut up, Michael.”
She pulled him into the room and shut the door behind. She launched a full frontal attack. He looked a little shocked, but in a matter of seconds he was all over her.
De ja voo, Christina thought. No bear rug this time, but there is a fireplace. She jumped up in his strong arms and wrapped herself around his torso. He waddled over to the bed and tumbled forward in an awkward pile. She pulled him on top, clasped her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. She kissed him again, breathed hot breath in his ear and whispered.
“Remember, Michael, what the flight attendant said? Anything you want,” she purred. “Anything.”
> Chapter Fifteen
While the Ocean Breeze plowed its way through crystal clear waters at 22 knots, the four vacationers got ready for dinner. It had been a long day. Christina felt the effects of morning Mimosas but figured a glass of wine might get her going again. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about attacking Michael in the stateroom, but she had decided not to waste any time thinking about it. As she often did, she argued with herself. Self, you’re a slut. No I’m not, just a little lonely, that’s all. No, you’re a slut.
Michael led the way as they climbed the stairs to the Sky Lounge. Billy and Heather were already there.
“Hi guys.” Michael waved. A waiter came over post haste and asked what they wanted to drink.
“Think I’ll have a scotch,” Michael said, “on the rocks.”
“Whoa, I gotta slow down,” Christina said putting her hand to the back of her head. “I’m not used to drinking this much. Make it a white wine for me.”
“And which would you prefer madam, Pinot Grigio, Chardonnay, Chablis. . .”
“Chardonnay’s fine.” She didn’t know much about wine.
“Me too.” Heather got her order in.
“Think I’ll have a scotch also,” Billy said, trying to keep up with Michael who was eight years older. “Some of the good stuff.”
Billy, Heather and Christina chattered away about old times and their survival experiences. Michael was the odd man out. He just sat back and listened. There were stories of pirates, trials and tribulation, tales of ingenuity, determination and sheer luck. They rehashed the boat ride to nowhere where Christina and Heather ended up in a knock-down, drag-out cat fight. There was the scene of Jessica’s death and her tearful funeral at sunset. And most the most dramatic of all was launching that Piper Saratoga off the beach in a hurricane. Their escape was the bounty of Billy’s courage and Christina’s brains. Michael looked astonished at what they had done. Halfway through their second round of drinks, the conversation suddenly turned to him.
“For God sakes! How rude?” Heather turned to Michael like she had just realized he was there. “Michael, you’re such a good sport. You must be sick of us gabbing about old times. Tell us about yourself. Where are you from, and what are your parents like?”
There was an uncomfortable pause. Michael turned beet-red and seemed to be stalling. “Oh, you don’t want to hear that. My life’s pretty boring. You guys have all the great stories.”
Christina reached up and brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Come on, honey, we want to know. What does your daddy do?”
“My dad. . .uh. . he was a brilliant man.” Michael looked down at the table.
“Was?”
“Yeah, he was a researcher, a nuclear scientist. Worked at Los Alamos Labs for years. He got several patents on flash-cameras and fiber-optics, a number of inventions used to study the plasma that occurs at the instant of detonation.”
“So, where are they now? Your parents?” Heather asked.
Michael looked down at the floor and scratched something off the front of his shoe. He almost whispered, “My dad killed himself back in ‘98.”
“Oh no, Michael, I’m so sorry,” said Christina. “What about your mom?”
“Mental. . .institution. . .north of Atlanta. Never recovered. He blew his brains out right in front of her. Lucky for me, I wasn’t home at the time. . .military school.”
“Oh God, you poor thing!” Heather gasped almost in tears.
Christina was shocked. They had never once talked about his parents, and now the reason was clear. She suddenly realized she knew very little about this man, a man she had bedded on two occasions. She reached over and embraced him in a sympathetic gesture. “I am so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, it’s not a pretty picture. . .I don’t talk about it much, or even think about it for that matter. NASA almost cut me for it, figured I must have some residual problems of my own. You can imagine my interview, ‘Hello, nice to meetcha, how are your parents?’ ‘Well one blew his brains out, and the other slit her wrists. How are yours?’”
Heather visibly shivered as though she felt his pain. Of all the things one could say about Heather, she had a big heart. A tear ran down her cheek.
“Damn, that sucks. So how did all that affect you?” Billy was so bold to ask.
“I was a teenager at the time, and, of course, I was devastated. On the other hand, I was never that close to my parents. They always relied on others to bring me up. First there were nannies, then military school, and finally I lived with my grandparents for two years before I went off to college. My grandparents were great. Papa was a Minister in the Methodist church. Taught me a lot about the outdoors, took me camping and hunting and taught me how to fish. He was a big influence on my life. Papa built up my confidence and made me believe in myself. He told me I could do anything or be anything as long as I worked hard. Thank God for Papa. And Nana, she was just the sweetest thing. What can I say, unconditional love. She told me every day that I was the brightest and the best looking kid in America. After a while some of that must a sunk in, because I was never lacking for confidence. Nana made me feel proud.”
“Your Papa sounds like my granddad,” Billy added, “at least before he died.”
“Well how are they then?” Heather was dabbing tears. “Your grandparents?”
“I’m afraid they’re gone too. Died a couple of years ago. First my grandmother and then Papa, three months later. I think he died of a broken heart. After Nana was gone, he just shut down. The nurses called it an ‘unwillingness to thrive.’ Never heard of such a thing, but I think it just means you refuse to go on.”
Heather’s tears started to pour.
Christina glanced her way and thought, Uh oh, too much wine.
“My grandparents on my mother’s side are still alive, in their eighties at an assisted living facility in Birmingham. They’re doing fine. I go see them a few times a year.”
“What about brothers and sisters?” Christina asked.
“Only child. C’mon that’s enough about my crappy life.” Michael lifted his glass and slammed down the last of his scotch. It was clear he was relieved to change the subject. “Tell me, where is that island you guys talk about?”
“You’re about to find out,” Christina beamed. “I don’t want to say too much, it’s a surprise. Now let’s go upstairs and eat.”
The crew had dropped anchor in a pristine cove off of one of the undeveloped islands. It was a gorgeous setting, not another boat in sight. The white beach tucked into limestone caves which had been eroded by the sea. Spotlights from the yacht illuminated beautiful choral beneath their vessel and fish were everywhere. The sky was brilliant with stars; the Milky Way painted a sparkling arch over their heads. It was 75 degrees with a light breeze, and a dining table had been set up outside on the topmost deck. Party lights illuminated the railings with a dim glow. A half-moon marked a white streak across a calm ocean.
Perfect, Christina thought, just perfect!
A seven-course meal laced with filet mignon and all the trimmings was laid out by their chef, one delicious setting at a time. The wine was clearly beyond what they had ever consumed.
Heather kept saying over and over again, “Thish wine ish sooo goood,” as she gazed starry eyed. It was her fourth glass, and speech began to slur.
“Look!” Christina squealed, pointing. A bright shooting star lit up the southern sky. “Oh my God! That was huge. Reminds me of my mom,” she said softly. “I saw one like that the night I gave my speech at graduation. I’m sure she was there. I was scared to death, but somehow she got me through it.”
Michael looked her in the eyes, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She put a hand around his neck and kissed him back. It was a deep fervent kiss filled with passion.
Heather barked, “Yoush two. . .get a room. . .hiccup!”
“Already got one,” Christina smiled. “Heather would you mind doing the dishes?” she laughed grabbing Micha
el by the hand. “Getting late. I think we’re going to bed.”
Michael followed like a puppy dog. His big smile said enough.
Billy waved and said, “Night y’all.”
* * *
