Devil's Fork

by Jesse Jacobson

  “A temporary aberration, I assure you.”

  “What kind of rafting guide uses words like aficionado and aberration?” she asked.

  “What? You think just because I’m a white-water rafting guide I must have a poor vocabulary? I could drag my knuckles and grunt if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

  Her face reddened.

  “Point made,” she said. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “No offense taken,” I said. I smiled at her. “It’s not the first-time people have assumed I must be some mountain man.”

  She reached over the seat and brushed her fingers over the tattoos on my forearm.

  “Your arms are covered in tats,” she said.

  I looked down at my arms and feigned surprise, “Really? Damn, you’re right. Huh… how’d that happen?” I kidded.

  She smiled and shook her head in a faux dismissiveness.

  “So, what qualifies you to be a rafting guide?” she asked.

  I pointed at a tattoo on my right arm.

  “I’m a Navy SEAL, retired,” I replied. “Underwater demolition team.”

  She raised her eyebrows, “Wow. Navy SEAL? That would explain your Greek-god body.”

  She flashed that same mischievous grin again. I could feel myself blushing for the second time. What was it about this woman? I couldn’t recall the last time a woman made me blush. It was always the other way around.

  “Well… thank you… for the… compliment,” I stammered.

  She chuckled at my discomfort, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just wondering how long it took to get your body to look like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like something every woman I know would love to ravage.”

  Now my face reddened, “You are direct, aren’t you?”

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing again. “That was way too much.”

  “That’s ok. I like direct women,” I said. More to the point, I liked smart, beautiful hot women who were not shrinking violets.

  She shrugged and smiled, “Well… then?”

  I liked her and it looked like she was into me. It was a refreshing change from all the women who chased after me, then played coy or hard to get or some other bullshit mind game. This woman was not into games—neither was I. She was personable and said what was on her mind.

  “Twenty-four weeks of BUD/S training—that’s Basic Underwater Demolition training,” I said. “Then a twenty-six-week SEAL Qualification Training program.”

  “Sounds rigorous,” she noted.

  “I don’t care what kind of condition you’re in when you arrive, if you make it all the way through, you’ll end up in good shape,” I admitted. “The daily activity of my job here keeps me pretty toned.”

  “I’ll say,” she agreed.

  “What about your friend over there?”

  I looked over at my buddy. He was fast asleep with his arms crossed and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

  “ToeJam? What about him?”

  “Was he a Navy SEAL, too?”

  “Yep. I served with him in the Navy and now here at MEC. He’s my field supervisor and my best friend.”

  “I thought I heard him insulting you earlier,” she said.

  “We do that to each other all the time,” I told her. “It’s guy banter—means nothing. He always has my back. He’d do anything for me, and I’d do the same for him.”

  “How did you two become so close?”

  “I met him in BUD/S training. I’ve never been a small guy but when I first arrived everyone else in BUD/S was bigger and tougher than I was, especially Toe. He liked me and took me under his wing. He pushed me hard in training and as I developed, I pushed him hard, too. We had this competition thing going. We both wanted to beat each other but also wanted each other to do well. By the time training was over we were the two baddest son-of-a-bitches around.”

  “Is he married?” Jeannie asked.

  My ears perked.

  “Why do you ask? Are you interested?”

  Please say no.

  “Oh no, he’s not my type,” she said, right on cue. “I was just thinking he’d be perfect for my friend, Maggie. She likes those big, rugged bad boy types. Does he ride a Harley?”

  “No motorcycle.”

  Jeannie shrugged, “Too bad. If he rode a Harley, I’d snap his picture and send it to her. That’d get her ass here in no time.”

  I chuckled. I loved her sense of humor.

  “So, big and rugged is not your type?”

  She shook her head, “Not really.”

  “I wouldn’t be your type either, then?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said. “You’re rugged, but you two are very different.”

  “Oh, yeah, how so?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way—he’s enormous, but doesn’t look as… sculpted or hunky as you.”

  I glanced over at the sleeping giant again and smiled, “Well, that’s because Toe likes balance in his life. He balances his exercise with burgers, onion rings and Krispy Kreme doughnuts.”

  Jeannie chuckled, this time more loudly. She placed her hand over her mouth to suppress the noise. Her laugh was infectious. Her eyes, really her entire face, lit up when she laughed.

  “Not just any doughnuts? Specifically, Krispy Kreme?” she asked.

  “Even more specifically, the chocolate glazed Krispy Kreme.”

  “I’ll make a notation in the event of an emergency.”

  “What about you?” I asked her. “You look like you’re in good condition yourself.”

  “That’s quite the compliment coming from you,” she said. “I’m a runner. I also work out with weights twice a week.”

  “Weights?” I questioned, surprised. “You’re thin as a rail.”

  I took in a breath and held it, wondering if I’d just insulted her. I let the air out when she smiled.

  “I use light weights, but not to build muscles—I like being a girl. I use the weights to keep my arms, belly and legs toned.”

  “Well, you’ve done a great job,” I told her. I smiled.

  “Of being toned, or of being a girl?”

  “Both,” I affirmed.

  “So, you noticed?”

  “Hard not to.”

  It was her turn to blush.

  “So, your name is Roger?” she asked.

  I tipped my cap, “My name is Roger Jolly. My Navy nickname was Jolly Roger. All my friends call me Jolly. At your service.”

  She gave me a funny look. Was it disappointment?

  “You don’t like my name?” I asked.

  “I like it fine. It’s just with you being a Navy SEAL and all I expected you to have a nickname like Dagger, Bonecrusher, Hornet, Stingray or Blade. Jolly Roger doesn’t sound as bad ass.”

  “The Jolly Roger is the skull and crossbones you see on Pirate flags. That’s not bad ass enough for you?”

  “Touché,” she acknowledged. “How long have you been a guide?”

  “Three years now.”

  “Oh… and is there a Mrs. Jolly?”

  “There is not,” I replied, thinking about Julie for the first time in the conversation.

  “Steady girl friend?”

  Wow, straight to the point. I paused briefly, considering what to say. Now, I was feeling a twinge of guilt.

  “I recently met a sweet woman; we’ve been hanging out… casually,” I truthfully told her, though the tone of my answer, to the degree I answered the question, definitely underplayed my current status with Julie. While understating my relationship was by design, I must admit I never really understood how to talk about these things.

  “How many times have you been out with her?” she asked.

  Is she reading my mind? I wondered.

  “Five.”

  “And when was the last time you talked her?”

  “I saw her for five minutes this morning. Before that, it was a week ago—maybe a little mo
re.”

  “I’ll take that as a no to the ‘steady girlfriend’ question.”

  “She might tell you otherwise.”

  “But she isn’t here to say, now is she?”

  I shrugged, “So exactly what do you plan to do with this newly discovered information?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “How long is this trip again?”

  “Six days, five nights,” I replied.

  “I have time to think on that one, then,” she said.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Married? Steady boyfriend?”

  Her smile dimmed some. She gave me a quizzical look as though she didn’t really want to answer the question, but finally did.

  “Not married,” she said. “I recently ended a long-term relationship.”

  Ah, the plot thickens.

  “Just broke up, huh?” I said, eyebrows raised. “Dammit that’s awful,” I feigned, snapping my fingers.

  She chuckled, her face reddened, “Oh, stop.”

  “How long were you two a thing?” I asked.

  She smiled and shrugged, “We’d been together for two years.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  She made a fist and then an exploding sound as she opened her hand and fluttered her fingers.

  “That rat bastard,” I whispered loudly, feigning disgust. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  She giggled and gave my arm a playful slap, “You’re horrible.”

  “Ok, I’ll bite. Why did a marriage proposal cause you to break up?”

  “Well, it’s a complicated and long story.”

  “We have six days,” I replied.

  “Jeannie,” I heard a male voice call out. It was Mr. Jenkins, now awake and looking in my direction with a sour expression. “Why don’t you come up here with us and let that man get some rest?”

  “Take a pill, dad, we’re just talking here,” she snapped back. She turned and spoke again, loud enough for her father to hear, “I’m not bothering you, am I… Mr. Jolly?”

  “Anything but,” I replied, also loud enough for him to hear. “Actually, I’m quite enjoying the conversation.”

  Jeannie turned back toward her father, “See dad? Go back to sleep.”

  I heard the man mumble something under his breath and he turned facing the front of the bus. That tip was getting smaller and smaller.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Jeannie said.

  “He keeps close tabs on you, doesn’t he?” I observed.

  “Yeah, they both do,” she admitted.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem like a girl who marches to her daddy’s orders,” I told her.

  Her smile faded, and she paused, looking deep into my eyes, trying to decide whether or not to be insulted.

  “Trust me, I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Saying what was on my mind has gotten me into trouble more times than I can count.

  “Now who’s the one being direct?” she asked.

  “It’s a fair question, isn’t it?”

  “I’m an only child and they’re protective, plus I’ll admit, I’ve made bad decisions in my life, especially with men. My dad’s not a bad guy… he’s just, I don’t know, used to getting his way.”

  “Owns his own business, does he?” I asked.

  Jeannie nodded, “He’s the president of Zinger Technologies.”

  My eyebrows raised, “The ammunition company?”

  “You know it?”

  “I know of it, yes.”

  I knew a little about the company. Zinger was at the forefront of manufacturing non-lethal weapons and ammunition: rubber bullets; wax bullets; bean bag rounds and even electric bullets. It was a growing industry.

  “He’s working on a special project,” she continued. “Mom and I meant this trip to be a diversion. He’s been working around the clock for months now. Don’t let him know I told you this, but he collapsed from exhaustion about a month ago. The doctor ordered him to take time off. He refused.”

  “If he refused why is he here?” I asked her.

  “Because my mother and I used our collective influence.” She winked at me.

  “Daddy’s little girl,” I said. I made eye contact with her again. The smile faded from my face as I looked deeply into her eyes. She did not look away. I could almost feel the heat being generated. After ten to fifteen seconds she finally turned her head.

  “I’ve taken up enough of your time,” she said. “I should go back and sit with my parents—maybe catch a few winks.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said.

  She stood and walked back to her seat. She turned once and looked back at me, flashing me a smile that nearly took my breath away. I watched her walk away.

  “Damn, those long legs are beautiful, aren’t they?” ToeJam said, brazenly leaning into the aisle, gawking at Jeannie as though he was watching Katy Perry in a skimpy bikini.

  “How long have you been awake?” I asked.

  “Not long,” he said. “Damn, Jolly. That girl did everything but jump your bones right here on the bus.”

  “She’s certainly cute,” I admitted.

  “Cute?” he snapped back. “That’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen since I started here. And she’s smart as a whip, and athletic, too. I’ll bet she’d give you a run for your money in a footrace.”

  I sighed, “I agree.”

  “Why don’t you give me Julie’s cell number,” he said. “I’ll do my best to console her when the inevitable happens.”

  “What are you talking about?” I scoffed.

  “I mean, I know you’ll break up with Julie.”

  I shook my head, “Don’t think so.”

  “I know you, dude. I know when you’re happy with someone and when you’re not.”

  “I never been happy with anyone… for long,” I noted.

  Toe shrugged, “Makes my powers of observation a little easier, doesn’t it?”

  “That doesn’t mean much.”

  “I’ve never seen you blush and giggle the way you did around that girl,” he explained. “She connected with you and I felt the heat sitting way over here. She’s not going to be one of your monthly playthings, I’ll tell you that, and if you think she will be, you’re an idiot.”

  I looked down the aisle at Jeannie again. Her back was to me.

  “And for the record,” Toe continued, “I like Dunkin Doughnuts, not Krispy Kreme.”

  “Do you really think she likes me?” I asked.

  “Yep,” continued ToeJam. He relaxed back in his seat again and closed his eyes, “She just may be the lion tamer.”

  Chapter 4

  I loved the starting point for our trip—it was perfect. The day was sunny and eighty-degrees. The current was lively. I reminded everyone in my boat to put on sunscreen and noticed Mr. Jenkins was once again on the phone and ignoring me. I didn’t see him putting on sunscreen like everyone else. Later on, he would be sorry. I smiled at the thought.

  Jenkins got off his call and looked at me.

  “Cell service will go dead when we are less than a mile down the river,” I told him. “If you have any other calls to make, now’s the time.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” he said, gruffly.

  I wondered if I should remind him about applying sunscreen. I glanced at his pale white legs. Nah.

  When Jenkins stood, he saw our raft for the first time. ‘Raft’ is actually a poor word to describe the Mountaineer Expedition Company’s patented ‘K-Raft.’ This was not your typical rubber raft used for whitewater rafting. The K-Raft was one of the largest and most advanced rafting boats ever made. It was like a J-Rig in that it was a pontoon-sized raft formed by joining seven giant snout-nosed rubber tubes, with stabilizing sponsons on each side. The designers layered the rubber like a premium tire. It was very difficult to puncture and even if a puncture occurred, they mo
lded the rubber to retract over the penetration and minimize the leakage. It was large and comfortable, equipped with a powerful motor in the back. Our guests don’t have to row—they enjoy. By not having to row, the passengers save energy for swimming and exploration during stops. The K-Raft is large enough to carry belongings, food and camping supplies along with emergency equipment.

  They made the front of the K-Raft with smaller, rubber tubes tied together but also able to move independently. Guests could straddle the tubes and hold on to the ropes for an incredible adrenaline rush as we navigated rapids and down choppy inclines.

  All the tubes were secured with ropes that doubled as security handles for the passengers.

  The first three hours of the trip was smooth sailing. The smooth water gave the guides the time to reiterate safety rules and offer tips to enhance their experience. Jeannie and Mrs. Jenkins listened to everything I said intently. John and James took an active part in the discussion chiming in with tips they had found useful in their previous trips. Mr. Jenkins stared at the countryside letting me know I had nothing to say to him that mattered.

  I noticed his skin already turning pink. Unless he figured it out soon, he would be hurtin’ for certain by the end of the day. I almost warned him but I figured the man had paid little attention to anything I’d said so far. What would be the point?

  Two hours into the excursion we reached calm stretch of the river and Toe signaled me to slow down so the passengers who were so inclined could take a swim. Jeannie peeled off her shorts and hopped in as did John and James and several passengers from Toe’s boat. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins remained on board. Mr. Jenkins pulled his Kindle to read. Mrs. Jenkins read a hard cover romance novel.

  I watched Jeannie; she was a strong swimmer. She swam behind the boat, pushed up out of the water and tugged at my life jacket, out of her parents’ line of sight.

  Mr. Jenkins was sitting and reading at the far front of the raft with his feet dangling in the water. With all the passengers laughing, splashing and talking I didn’t think he could hear me.

  “Hey, how’s the water?” I whispered.

  “Why don’t you come in and see?” she said, keeping her voice low. Her grin was devilish. Damn, she was beautiful.

  “No can do,” I replied. “Have to keep an eye on the passengers, just in case. It’s regulation.”