I shook my head. It was barely 10 a.m. and he already had a beer in his hand. He was dressed in the uniform of the day - Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and flip flops. And yet he insists that he's the president of our little floating trailer park. But there ain't no rent, no dues, and best of all, no Karen from the HOA!
"Put that Bud down and toss us a line, Bob!" I looked past him to see a line of five houseboats that had probably anchored there last night, all decked out with AstroTurf and lawn chairs. Once it got dark, they'd light the tiki torches, and turn on strings of party lights. Some of the wives hollered out to Amber, and the guys waved as they went about setting up chairs, tables, grills, and water toys.
As we tied up alongside Bob, I could see other boats slowly idling in. Pretty soon there was an assortment of bass trackers, Bay Liners, and another party barge. Looks like most of the membership of the Redneck Yacht Club was present and accounted for!
I was leanin' over the cooler, grabbin' a Busch Light for me and a White Claw for Amber when Shirley yelled, "JT, you dummy! Ya got yer drawers on backward!"
I twisted around, and sure enough, I guess when I bent over, the waistband of my boxers showed above my shorts.
"What the frack is 'YEKCOJ'?" Shirley laughed. She said it 'Yeck-oj' and a coupla other ladies were gigglin'.
"Oh, that just means it's week 2," I said, all casual like, tossin' out the lure.
Shirley bit. "Week 2?"
I reeled her in. "Yeah, you know... Week 1 you wear 'em right side out. Then you turn 'em inside out and get another week outa them. This is week 2!"
"Oh, that's nasty, JT!" she shrieked, and everyone within' hearin' distance busted up.
Well, I grinned to show her I was kiddin', and Amber rolled her eyes at me. The ladies went back to slatherin' on the sunscreen and the guys went back to eyeballin' 'em, while tryin' to act like they wasn't. Weren't nobody foolin' nobody, and nobody cared!
It turned into a scorcher of an afternoon.
"Hell with this nonsense," Amber finally shouted. "I'm sweatin' my tits off up here!" With that, she dove right off the upper deck into the water. A God damn perfect swan dive, too. We all cheered when she came back to the surface, and I was holdin' up ten fingers, plus one more that wasn't as obvious. Well, maybe it was, the way she was starin' at me. She just winked though, and mouthed, "Later."
Good enough for me. Life was good!
Well, it finally did start to cool down some as the sun finally dipped below the horizon in a pink-orange blaze. Yeah, gimme a break, I can be poetic as a motherfucker when I want to be!
Anyway, as it got on toward twilight, Craig pulled out his old six-string, and started strummin'. Tommy opened a coupla jars o' shine and started them around. We sipped and sang, and Amber leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. I had my arm around her, and whispered in her ear, "It don't get much better'n this, baby."
After a while, she gave me the eye. "It's later, JT." I pulled her to her feet, and we headed back to the boat. Much later, as we moved together, and the boat was rockin', makin' waves, Amber asked, a little out of breath, "JT? I just thought of somethin'."
I was breathin' a little heavy too, but I managed to answer, "Yeah, baby? What's that?"
"Ain't this a no-wake zone?"
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