Page 12

Chapter 12

Setting Battle Sails

Dante

Sam’s eyes flick over her.

The guy totally opened her suitcase, and by the oh so lovely pink blush trailing up Haley’s neck, I want to see too. “Let me take that for you, Haley. We don’t want to strain your ankle.”

“My ankle’s fine. We don’t want to overtax your strength.”

I laugh and take the suitcase from her.

“Haley? We need your help,” Zane calls.

“Excuse me.” She eyes the suitcase but doesn’t reach for it. She takes off for the shelter. Her limp is completely gone, but that’s not the point. Sam needs to know that we’ve been through some shit.

He moves toward the path to follow her, but I step in front of him. I shake my head. The energy is weird, and I don’t do weird. I clear it out, get the problem out in the open.

“We’re all fucking. And by fucking, I mean it’s more than fucking. We are all into her.” I cross my arms over my chest. Sure, I’m going rogue. Haley thinks she should be the one to tell him, but fuck that. I’m not having Sam making her feel that she’s done anything wrong.

“Each other?” His eyebrows raise, he looks out over the ocean and a second later back at me.

“No. I’m the only guy here who’s bi, but without Haley, I’m pretty sure Rockwell and Green would be going at it, given enough time—or they might kill each other. Guess we have to wait and find out. But no, just Haley. The thought of fucking the other guys makes me want to clean the grease fryer with my tongue. Just Haley.” I give a little shiver at my own metaphor.

His face goes from ashy to red and back to ashen again.

“You heard the ‘it’s not just fucking’ part?” Haley is going to be pissed, but Sam needs to know. And she’s not going to tell him. Not without a big push. Not without too much time passing. She’s too nice. She’d never want to hurt him, or us. Hence hurting all of us.

“I did.”

“And?”

“What do you want me to say, Dante? Pass the fucking lube?”

“Well, that’s up to you.” Telling him I’m trying to work out the best consistency of lube isn’t the right thing to do. Not yet. I’ll save that gem for another day. “Are you hungry?”

“What?”

I’ve dazed him. Which I don’t mind. Having him a little out of his element is a good thing.

“Like, do you want something to eat? I’ve made a crab salad with pomelo and seaweed. Along with a coconut cream fish chowder. We didn’t know when you’d be getting here, so I wanted it to hold.”

His jaw drops. “I ate half a can of beans and a scoop of cold rice. Yeah, I could eat. Thanks.”

“No problem. You’re welcome.”

“I brought...” He’s staring out over the ocean. I’m not sure which has stunned him more—the fucking or the food. He shakes his head. “I brought some bowls, plates, and stuff too. Your list was oddly specific until it wasn’t.”

“I suppose ‘the entire boat’ was leaving things pretty wide open.”

“Yeah, I can bring more things back tomorrow or the next day. I’m hoping Calvin and Zane come back with me to start troubleshooting.” He’s talking to me like I have some sort of say. Strictly by age, I’m the closest to him. I’ve been on yachts for a hell of a long time. I have enough money saved that I’ve thought about opening a restaurant. But then I have to make fifty perfect table tops a night instead of one. And the same fucking thing over and over again. On a yacht, it’s always something new. Well, except for the time I was cooking on a Russian 125 meter. He wanted me to make him a replica of McDonald’s hamburger and fries every night. It was either quit or ask him to shoot me.

I nod. “We should all go back, at least for a look around. Clean things up. The freezers have to be rank by now.”

“No, I thought of that. I cooked a good amount of the meat on the back grill. Penny ate well. As things turned moldy, I tossed them overboard.”

I nod. “Smart.” Calvin’s not wrong; the guy’s a good man.

“This isn’t going to be a quick fix.”

“I’m aware. Calvin mumbles about it in his sleep, and when he wakes up, he talks about it until I want to stab him in the ear with one of the spoons he whittled.”

Sam’s still looking out over the ocean. We stand for a while.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’m going to fix the ship and eat dinner. Not in that order.”

“All right then, let’s eat.”

When we get back to the shelter, most of the tubs are open. Zane and Haley are up top, and Calvin is tossing up pillows. Snow white pillows. And while I’m excited for them, I’m more looking forward to my knives and spices. I set Haley’s suitcase down next to Calvin.

“What’s this?” Calvin asks.

“Haley’s.” I wiggle my eyebrows. I’m not clairvoyant, but I’ve been accused of being it before. I’m just observant. Damn observant. I’m guessing Haley has a battery-operated boyfriend inside. And I can’t wait to fucking see it. Nothing else would make her blush the way she did. “You doing all right up there, Sassy?” I call up.

“Yeah, it’s so nice up here. And we have blankets!” She sings it like an afternoon talk-show host announcing the latest and greatest celebrity. “It’s amazing.” She does a small hop. Even more amazingly, the platform doesn’t move.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’m going to get dinner finished. Twenty sound good to you, Sassy?”

“Works for me if it works for everyone else. I’ll be down soon.”

A chorus of yups and “sounds good” fill the shelter.

She takes another one of the pillows from Calvin. “Wait. Don’t open my suitcase.” She points at it and then to Calvin.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t dare.”

I meander over to the counter where the crab is cooking in the citric acid of a pomelo. It’s going to be fantastic, even better with some red pepper flakes and garlic. I wouldn’t imagine Sam would have brought a clove of it, but the provisioner did send some of the powered garbage. Dried cilantro would be amazing too.

“Your stuff is in one of the smaller salmon-colored containers.” Sam opens one and then another. “Here.” He sets it down on the counter next to Pepper. She’s cocking her head back and forth like she’s not sure what to think. “Is she friendly?” Sam puts his hand out, and Pepper hisses and swats at him. “I guess that’s a no.”

“Pepper is a good girl. She just needs to get used to you. She might smell the dog. She’s never met a dog before.” Calvin scoops her up and tucks her inside his jacket. And I have to do a double take because it’s not the same one he’s been wearing this whole time—it’s a new one. Pepper sniffs and ducks her head down before she sticks her head out of the zipper. She looks up at Calvin, blinks her blue eyes, then turns and glares at Sam. Exactly, Pepper. We’re not sure if he’s a friend or an enemy, either.

Sam sits on the stump next to the stove, a mug in hand. Like he’s a guest. “Where did the cat come from?”

“Showed up one day. We haven’t seen another one.” I poke through my tub. It’s fantastic. I love every second of it. There are some other things I’d love to have, but it’s fine. I didn’t expect him to know that half of my knives are still wrapped up and in a drawer, not hanging on the magnetic rack. But I’ve got a set of metal bowls, spices, and knives. I can grab other things tomorrow.

I add some freaking pepper to the stew and some chili flakes too. He’s done pretty good with the spices. He did add sea salt, which is hysterical, as that’s the only thing I have now. But I can fill up the grinder with the stuff I’ve been harvesting.

I add some more wood to the stove to get it ready for tonight, then take the pot off. “Soup’s up.”

“Oh, did anyone open the other black-lid container? Not the one with the pillows?” Sam asks.

Calvin finds it on the other side of the tree. “Here it is.” He plops it down next to the stove and peels the lid off. “What’s in here?” There’s a canvas bag.

“I think it’s a mosquito net. It’s labeled ‘birthday party.’”

“What?” Haley sticks her head out the window of the sleeping loft. “Oh right, yeah, it’s like you would hang over beds. I was going to blow up the air mattresses and put little canopies over each one. I ordered disco balls and a giant... well, some fun stuff. But the canopies could totally be used for mosquito netting. That’s a total score.”

I crane my neck, watching Calvin go through the box. Under the canvas bag are boxes of crackers and a bunch of canned goods. “Soup and crackers.” Now Calvin is roaring like Haley did a minute ago. Maybe we can get back to where we were. Sam’s not a bad guy. Calvin and Zane talk about Sam like he’s Superman. Not as much lately...

“Soup’s getting cold.” It comes out in my irritated chef’s voice.

“We’re coming,” Haley says.

“That’s what she said.” Zane laughs, and eyes land on him. “Right.” Fun’s over is what he was trying to say.

Calvin grabs two coconut bowls.

“We’ve got the real stuff now, Cal.” I hold the ladle out.

“I like these. They fit in the palm of my hand.” Which was the same thing he said about Haley’s breasts three nights ago. I’m not the only one who’s thinking about it. I look over at Zane, and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

We’re about fifty-fifty on coconut bowls to ceramic. I’ve got one of each. All of us but Sam are eating with the wooden utensils that Calvin made. Food just tastes better with them, especially the ceviche. The metal taste would bother me now.

We tend to eat in silence for the first few minutes, then lately we’ve been doing something that Haley calls roses and thorns. And I’m hoping to hell she?—

“Should we do roses and thorns? I’ll go first. There are so many roses: Sam being alive, the ship, spices, pillows. Who’s next?” Haley smiles.

“Nope. You never let us get away with not having both a rose and a thorn. You need to fess up a thorn, Haley.” Zane leans in and bumps her shoulder. “Am I right?”

“Okay, right? Right, the worst thing that happened today...” She looks at Sam and then around the circle. “I stubbed my toe going up the ladder.”

“Which step?” Zane’s ready to leap up and take it out on the ladder. The girl is lying. The worst thing that happened today was that our bubble burst.

“Zane, it was my fault, not the ladder’s.”

“Okay, well, thorn: Easton stuck his knee in my ball sack last night. Rose: all of you. This meal. And the captain, of course.” Zane laughs.

I glance over at the captain, but he’s a little too mesmerized by my ceviche. It’s good, but not good enough to stare at for ten minutes.

Dinner is over; I gather the dishes and package them up in one of the smallest totes. Given enough time, I know Zane’s going to come up with a solution for washing dishes. But for now, whoever’s turn it is to wash them brings them down to the ocean, scrubs them with sand, and rinses them.

Calvin and Sam are lost in their world of wires and power surges, and I just can’t watch Haley in that much pain anymore. Her discomfort is palatable, and the fact that I can’t do anything about it makes me want to scream, so I head for the ocean.

I’m down the path, my feet hitting the sand, when I hear Sam next to me.

I lift my head. “Hey.”

“Thought I should help since I ate.” He nods at me.

“I’ve got it.” I want him to go back to Calvin and figure out what’s wrong with the ship, but if it means giving Haley a rest, I guess I can stand in the fire I started.

“I want to help. Show me how you do it.”

“It’s washing dishes, not docking a 200 meter at Portofino in Italy,” I say.

“Nothing would be that hard. Let me help.”

“Sure.” I find the large rock we normally sit on. It’s past the tender and the fishing weir. “It’s a little easier with the tub.” I set the tub on my lap and fill it with salt water. “What do you really want, Sam?” I go about doing the simple action. But honestly, I just want him to go away so I can kiss each one of my knives. I missed them so damn much.

“You really are a chef.”

“What do you mean by that?” I’m holding my ten-inch chef’s knife.

He shakes his head. “There’s no beating around the bush.”

“I don’t have time to mince words—I’m too busy mincing onions. So shoot. What is it?”