by Sandra Hill
“I thought you SEALs could do anything,” Jake remarked. “Cracking a safe should be child’s play.”
“Fuck you,” Caleb retorted.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, okay now.” Frank stepped between the two men. “Everyone’s nerves are on edge. Let’s cool it.”
John stepped between the two of them as well. “We can’t use a blowtorch or anything else to open the safe down there. First, it would take too long, probably an hour, and our air supply would be depleted. More important, it would be obvious to authorities who examine the site later that we removed something from the safe.”
“Can we lift the safe up?” Frank asked.
“Sure we can,” Brenda said. “We’ll bring a crane out here and hoist the bugger up. A cinch, if handled properly.”
“But won’t the authorities notice a space in the wreck where the safe had been?” Rosa wanted to know.
“That might not be a problem.” Frank was tapping his chin and puffing on a cigar as he pondered this latest development. “A heavy storm is heading in tonight, and it could very well make some changes in the ocean floor. Besides that, the sand churned even in normal ocean currents is quick to cover whatever lands on the bottom.”
As everyone talked at once, offering their opinions on how to handle the retrieval, the only thing Veronica could think of was, a heavy storm? Her head jerked up, and she peered into the distance where, yep, dark clouds were forming. Now, it was one thing for her to have adjusted her physical reactions to the open waters on temperate days, but the middle of the ocean during a storm? No way!
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re back on land.” Jake put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her against him.
How did he know what I was thinking? she thought. Then, How does he always know what I’m thinking? He’s an expert at reading people. He’s an expert at reading me. Why wouldn’t he be? We’ve been married, like, forever. “Thanks. I’m sure everyone will want to go onto dry land, at least till the storm runs its course.”
Just to make sure, Jake said in a loud voice, “Hey, Frank, how about we take this rust bucket into Barnegat for the night. No one wants to be out in a storm.” Frank was about to protest, but Jake continued, in a steely voice now, “You and Brenda can pick up a crane tomorrow. Those chemical toilets can be emptied. All of us could do some laundry and take more than a one-minute shower.”
“Plus, I need to get on my home computer to—” Flossie started to say.
But Frank drew himself to his full height—six foot two of burly man—and towered over Flossie. “I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with your eBay crap.”
Flossie, to everyone’s surprise, did not burst into tears. Instead, she rose up on the tiptoes of her sequined shoes and jabbed a forefinger into his chest. “Know what I’ve had up to my eyeballs? Your stupid polkas. And your equally stupid suspenders. And your snoring. And your constant criticism. And those smelly cigars.” With those words and Frank’s slack jaw, she stomped away and slammed the door leading down to the galley.
Frank shook his head to clear it. “Must be the menopause,” he said to everyone standing around, gaping at him.
Flossie poked her head out the door then and added, “And by the way, I was going to check my stocks on my home computer, but now I definitely will be going on eBay. Hold on to your wallet, big boy.” She slammed the door again.
After that, everyone began to make preparations for the return trip.
Frank stayed behind and asked Veronica, “Will you be coming back?” He obviously feared that once on land, she would hotfoot it back to Boston and her law practice.
That should have been her plan, but what she said was, “I’ll see this project through to the end. But then I’m done.”
He smiled so brightly that you’d have thought she handed him the moon—or a new polka CD.
“That was nice,” Jake said, coming up to her side. He’d already donned a sweatshirt, and he handed her his Windbreaker, which had “World Texas Hold ’Em Poker Tournament” on the back. She hadn’t realized that the wind was already picking up.
“I wasn’t being nice. I was being truthful. I’m not a quitter.”
He winced at her jab but remained surprisingly silent. The old Jake would have said something equally snide back. He stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. It wasn’t “the look”; it was something else.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”
That was a shocker. “Are you asking me on a date?”
He blushed, which was kind of cute. Jake rarely blushed. “Yeah. A date.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? No, not tonight? Or no, not ever?”
She should have said “not ever,” but a part of her wasn’t ready to be that emphatic. “Brenda and I are going out tonight . . . dancing.”
Jake smiled with relief.
Brenda, who was winding some rope in front of them, turned to face them. “We are?”
“Yep. You can stay overnight with me in my room at the Starlight Motel. I know this little place where they have great food and live music. Dirty Doug’s.”
Jake snorted his opinion of her going to a place with that name, then smirked.
She ignored his snort, and his smirk.
“The place where Adam took you to dinner?” Brenda asked.
“Yes.”
Jake was no longer smirking. His face went stiff. In fact, he looked hurt, even though he had no right to be. They weren’t married anymore. “You went on a date with Fabio?”
“Fabio?” she asked, even though she knew who he meant.
“Yeah, the Cuban cover boy.”
“So what? You go on dates. And, hello! You’re engaged.”
“I am not engaged anymore. Did you have a date with the Amish commando, too?”
Veronica smiled at his choice of words, and Brenda snickered behind Jake. He didn’t seem to notice, or care.
“No, I didn’t have a date with Caleb,” she said; but then, just because she had a mean streak in her somewhere, she added, “But I kissed him.”
“You did?” Jake and Brenda said at the same time.
“Yeah, and it was really hot. So, Mr. Poker Man, what do you have to say about that?”
Jake stared at her for a moment. She knew the instant he moved that she’d miscalculated.
He pulled her into his arms, then gave an additional yank so she was on her tiptoes, aligning her tight against him, breast to chest, belly to belly. No question how much he still wanted her. Then he kissed her, and he kissed her good. There was tongue involved, but she wasn’t sure if it was hers or his.
Just as quickly as he’d pulled her into his arms, he set her away from him. “You and I are not finished, babe, not by a Vegas long shot.” Then he walked away.
She realized belatedly that there was complete silence on the boat. Everyone had just witnessed the kiss.
Beware of men with plans . . .
Jake was sitting on the aft deck of the boat, arms around upraised knees, watching the storm clouds chase them on the return trip to Barnegat. In his headset, Sting blasted out “Roxanne,” the epic Police song, but today, even that couldn’t soothe his soul.
The kiss shared with Ronnie less than an hour ago had shattered something inside him. He was afraid of what he might do or say next, so fragile were his emotions. In fact, he kept clenching and unclenching his fists to settle himself down, to no avail.
So, of course, Ronnie came up and sank down beside him. For what seemed like an eternity, she just stared forward, as he’d been doing.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “The waves are getting kind of rough.”
“My stomach’s queasy, but I took a couple of Peptos. I should be all right.” She was still avoiding eye contact with him. “Is that ‘Roxanne’ I hear?”
He nodded and removed the headset, clicking the OFF button on the CD player.
“I remember,” he cut her off, more abruptly than he’d intended. Then, more softly, he said, “That was probably the day I first realized that I loved you.”
“Oh, Jake.” Out of his side vision, he could see that she still stared ahead, but he could also see that there were tears in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m not crying. That was a good memory.”
He turned his head and looked at her directly. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”
They were both quiet for a while.
“That was some kiss,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“What are we gonna do about it?”
“Nothing.”
His heart sank like a rock.
“That’s why I came to talk to you. Jake, we’re killing each other with these on-again, off-again relationships. It’s got to stop.”
“I thought I had stopped. I made myself go out with other women. I got myself engaged, for chrissake. And see what happened? One second in your company and I was back to step one.”
She nodded. “I’ve dated some . . . not nearly as much as you, I’m sure.”
Don’t be too sure.
“But in the back of my mind, I don’t think I have really let go. That’s why I’ve been thinking about dating Caleb.”
“Caleb?” he growled. “Why him? Why not the Cuban Fabio?”
“I had one date with Adam and knew he was not my type.”
“But Peachey? Shit! He’s not your style, either.”
She grinned at him, knowing there wasn’t any man whom he would consider her style. “I think I’m going to try finding out for myself.”
Jake’s hands fisted and unfisted reflexively. I am not going to picture her naked with that steroid stud. I can’t let myself. I just can’t. “Maybe we could find a way to make it work this time. That’s why I came back. I had to try.”
“Nothing’s changed, Jake.”
“Yes, it has. I don’t play nearly as much as I used to. I’m financially secure. You wouldn’t have to worry.” Suddenly, he remembered his “grand gesture” and dug deep in his pocket, pulling out a check and placing it in her hands. “See. That’s how much I’ve changed. Take that and put it in a separate account with your name only. Never to be touched for gambling. Ever. It’s proof that my gambling won’t ever be a problem for us again.”
Ronnie stared down at the paper in her hands. He could tell she was surprised. “One million dollars? You’re giving me one million dollars?” Then, surprise changing into anger, she stood abruptly and stared down at him.
He stood, too.
Then she ripped the check into tiny shreds and let them blow out to sea. There were more than tears in her eyes now. “You jackass! You don’t know me at all if you think our marriages failed because of money.”
“I know that. Dammit! This was supposed to be a grand . . . gesture.”
“I give up. You are insane.” Shaking her head with a lack of appreciation for his grand gesture, she left.
She probably thinks I’m going to give up now. Hah! I just rattled her big-time. She doesn’t know it, but the odds are in my favor. Plan B, here I come.
As he put his headphones on and sank back down to the deck, he smiled. So she thinks I’m insane. Well, I’m not. I was insane when we got married the last time . . . we both were. But this time we’re going to be clearheaded, no rush to the altar. Hold on to your briefcase, my lawyer wife. The jury is still out on us.
He closed his eyes then, and while Sting crooned “Don’t Stand So Close to Me,” he remembered.
Chapter
20
THE INSANITY WEDDING
He was in Monaco for an international poker tournament. She, coincidentally, was in nearby Nice, basking in a South of France vacation with a few of her friends. They met up in the posh restaurant of the Riviera Hotel, which overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.
He was dressed up for the occasion . . . well, dressed up for him. A navy blue blazer, light blue Oxford collar shirt, a tie, and khaki slacks with loafers. But she was really dressed up, in a backless, short, black silk dress and rhinestone-studded black high heels. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head in one of those loose styles meant to convey that the woman had just crawled out of bed after getting laid. Pearl earrings were her only jewelry.
It had been one year since their last divorce, since the last time he’d seen her, and almost nine years from their first Sappy Wedding, but it could have been yesterday, as far as he was concerned. His heart constricted, and blood rushed to all the important places in his body. With a sigh, he made his way to her table; he couldn’t help himself.
“Ronnie,” he said, coming up behind her.
She jumped in her seat, then turned. “Jake. Ohmigod, Jake! What are you doing here?” She was not happy to see him, but then he understood because she had to be feeling the same adrenaline rush he was experiencing.
After introductions to her friends, who had knowing smiles on their faces—he’d met two of them before—and after making some forgettable chitchat about why each of them was there and what they’d seen, he took Ronnie by the arm and led her outside to the terrace so they could talk in private. Big mistake!
They stood facing each other, neither knowing what to say. Maybe it was time for some honesty.
“I can’t breathe when I look at you,” he said, and that was the truth.
“Me, too.”
“Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you?”
“I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to tell you something, little things, like a case I’d just won, an interesting woman I met at a shelter, the cat that keeps trying to adopt me, a new Thai recipe I found.”
“I’ve drunk-dialed you more times than I can count. Sometimes I even waited till you picked up just to hear your voice before hanging up. How juvenile is that?”
“But then I remember that you’re not mine to call anytime I want.”
“I’m always yours . . . for whatever reason.”
She was looking at him like a weary traveler in the middle of the desert dying of thirst, and he was the tempting oasis. Heady stuff, that.
Suddenly, she flung herself at him. He caught her in his arms. What happened next was raw, hard-core sex, no embellishments . . . well, unless you call crazy-in-love an embellishment.
In hindsight, they shouldn’t have gone behind that mass of potted plants at the end of the terrace, beyond the lights. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have caressed his lower back, just above his butt, his special erotic spot. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have said, “I want to screw your brains out for all the pain you’ve caused me.” In hindsight, she shouldn’t have said, “Ditto.” In hindsight, he shouldn’t have banged her silly against the hotel wall with her dress hiked to her waist and his pants around his ankles. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been a good idea to nail her again in the storage room on the way to the elevators. By morning, he had banged her so many times his cock felt like a drill.
Bang, nail, screw, drill? I’m turning into a bloody carpenter, he joked with himself.
Her mouth was kiss-swollen, and there were chafe marks on practically her whole body. He had a few bite marks he would have liked to freeze in place to remind him later how wild she’d been.
They’d said the words “I love you” so many times, they became a litany. Their lovemaking had a frantic nature to it, as if they had to do it all, every which way they could, as well as they could, in case they never got another chance.
All that banging had probably affected his mind, and hers, too, because by the next evening they were married again. The Insanity Marriage.
Unfortunately, the insanity ended three
months later.
Chapter
21
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. . . .
Veronica was having a wonderful time, more fun than she recalled having in a long, long time.
She and Brenda had done their laundry this afternoon, after running through the rain to a nearby Laundromat. They’d both basked in long hot showers and indulged in late-afternoon naps in the motel’s two double beds. Afterward, they came to Dirty Doug’s, where they dined on fresh beer-batter haddock with angel hair pasta au gratin and a luscious balsamic vinaigrette salad. Brenda had dropped her diet for the evening.
Over the years, Veronica had maintained friendships with a few of her old college roommates, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen or talked to any of them. Their interests had changed, being more into country clubs, children, and subjects that did not interest Veronica. Her life didn’t interest them, either. So it was refreshing to have girl-to-girl time with Brenda, whose sense of humor kept her smiling.
“Are you really going to your class reunion with John?”
“Yep, assuming I lose those twenty pounds. I’ve already lost twelve, but I’ll probably gain two tonight.”
“Why is it so important to you? Do you still love your ex?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. He is such a prick, really. He let celebrity go to his head years ago and is still basking in the glow of mass female adoration. He wasn’t always like that. I’ve known Lance since we were kids back in Perth Amboy, driving our tricycles up and down the sidewalk in front of our houses. Lance, ever the speed freak, managed to get his tricycle to go twice as fast as mine.”
“It’s hard to break old . . .” Veronica was about to say “loves” but instead said, “habits.”
“Tell me about it. And, hey, I get back at the jerk every chance I get. Everyone I meet gets to hear me say that his family jewels are more like peanuts and his dick hasn’t grown since he was two years old. It gets back to him, too.” She grinned mischievously.
“Does he see his daughter . . . Patti?”
