Page 11

At first, Taye Boyce thought he was seeing things.

The sun had set over the Santa Monica Bay and in the dim light, about half a mile out from Redondo Beach’s King Harbor, he saw what looked like a small boat about four hundred yards away. There seemed to be someone standing up in the tiny vessel, waving their arms. He grabbed his binoculars to get a better look.

Sure enough, he saw someone—a woman, probably in her twenties, desperately moving her arms back and forth to get his attention. She had it.

The girl was hot. She had flowing black hair that cascaded down to her ass and wore a “barely there” bikini that revealed nearly all of her attributes. He immediately steered the boat in her direction. As it headed her way, he darted down into the cabin for a moment to give himself a once-over. Since he hadn’t expected to have any interaction tonight, he hadn’t paid much attention to his appearance.

Glancing in the head’s mirror, he took stock. His blond hair was a little flyaway because of the wind, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, he thought it was kind of sexy and left it as it was. He had a five ‘o’ clock shadow but liked it too. His polo shirt was a little wrinkled, so he tucked it into his billowy boat trousers.

Satisfied, he hurried back up to the deck and found that he’d made good time. He reached her dinghy less than a minute later and was pleased to discover that she was as impressive close up as she had been from a distance.

“You okay?” he called out.

“Everything except my ego,” the girl called back. “I ran out of gas. I’ve been stuck out here for the last hour. Thank goodness you came by. I was worried that with it getting dark, I’d be stuck out here all night.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Taye told her. “It’s happened to all of us at one time or another.”

“That helps a little,” she said, still looking sheepish. “Any chance I could come onboard and ask you to tug me back to the harbor?”

Taye couldn’t help but smile. He was happy to assist. Maybe she’d offer him some kind of reward for his gallantry.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I’ll pull up next to you and toss you a rope. Sound good?”

“Thanks,” she said.

A few minutes later she was on the deck with him with her small boat secured to his.

“I’m Monica,” she said, extending her hand.

“Taye,” he replied, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m sorry to mess up your evening,” she said, pushing the hair out of her brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, peering more closely at her. She looked vaguely familiar to him. “”Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Weird,” he said. “You look like someone I know, but I can’t place who.”

“I get that a lot,” she told him.

"I'll bet," he said. "Hey, listen, I can take you back to shore now if you really want. But that pretty much ends my evening too. I was about to open a bottle of wine and kick back for a stretch. If you're not in a rush, can I offer you glass before we head back? That way, the trip isn't a total waste."

Monica looked briefly hesitant before seeming to change her mind.

“That would be nice,” she said.

Great,” he said, walking over to the small table with the wine chiller holding the bottle of Chablis he’d been chilling since he got on board. He grabbed the corkscrew and popped the cork. Then he poured a glass.

“Oh, I just realized I only have one glass up here,” he said. “You take this one and I’ll run down and grab one for myself.”

“Okay,” Monica said. “While you’re down there, do you think you might have a jacket I could borrow? I didn’t expect to be out here after dark, so I didn’t bring anything and it’s starting to get a little brisk.”

“Sure thing,” he said, hurrying down the steps. He snagged a windbreaker from the closet, then another glass from the galley, before heading back up. Monica was standing by the table with the wine bottle. She put her glass down so she could take the jacket.

Thanks,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

“Of course,” he said, “although if I’m being honest, it’s going to be a bummer when you cover up.”

Her face turned hard as she stared at him with those brown eyes, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake by being so bold. But then her expression softened.

“That’s sweet,” she said.

He reached out to give her the windbreaker, and she brought her hand up to take it. He noticed she was holding something in her hand. It flashed in the moonlight.

He only realized that it was the wine corkscrew as she jammed it into his neck. Stunned and in pain, he reached up to stop her. Putting his hands to his throat, he felt the warmth as blood poured over them.

Before he could even try to remove the thing, Monica yanked it out and the flow of blood turned into a spray, covering her and much of the deck. He knew this was bad, mostly because, even as panic gripped him, he felt himself getting weak-kneed.

He toppled forward onto the deck. As the blood from his neck splattered on the deck and shot back up into his face, he was surprised by the thought that came to the forefront of his brain.

“This is going to be so hard to clean up.”

But he wouldn’t have to worry about that.