This one's for all the gorgeous ladies...
*
St. Lucia, a jewel set in the crown that was the Caribbean, made promises to any landlubber who braved the sun and the surf to arrive on her shores. Such a landlubber was Alex Roberts. He had found his way there by accident, a guest of a newly acquired friend.
As an ordinary guy trying to hail a cab in the city of his birth, Chicago, Alex had witnessed a mugging that could have turned tragic, if not for his intervention. After confronting and chasing off a particularly vicious gun-toting crook, Alex had been declared a hero by the victim, the man vowing eternal gratitude to Alex for having saved his life.
That man was none other than Rockefeller Gould who owned half of the Upper East Side. There were worst things than to be the new best friend of a billionaire. Alex was reaping the benefits. That was how he came to be on this island among the beautiful people of the world.
They'd been to a half dozen island resorts on their excursion aboard Rocke's topsail schooner,
The Interloper
. Alex had been more than a little impressed by what Rocke called his little yacht. She eighty feet long, came with a full compliment and crew, and under full sail, her beauty was unparalleled. Except for the woman with her head so carefully bent toward the other woman sitting next to her.
"There she is again. Damn look at that ass" Rocke said as he signaled for another round of beers.
The woman, whose name, Alex had overheard, was Cindy, had been on four of the six islands they had visited. She was traveling with a man twenty years her senior who was trying to recapture that spark of youth. His little sloop, the Christine, was moored not far from
The Interloper
.
"She's into you, man. Go talk to her." Rocke asked. "I've seen her sneaking looks at you."
"Nah," Alex said after taking a pull from his beer. "She's got enough trouble with the walking midlife crisis."
"I don't see him around anywhere."
It was true. The man was nowhere to be seen. That's the way it had been at the other resorts, too. The guy had gone off, often times leaving her alone while he talked with others his own age. How anyone could leave Cindy alone, even for a minute, was beyond Alex.
She wouldn't be considered glamorous or flashy by most people's reckoning. Instead, her beauty was more genuine. She had a natural, girl-next-door thing going on, and a kind of rare charm that captured a man's imagination. That perfectly-shaped body didn't hurt matters, either. It was slender, rounded in all the right places, and meant for sex.
"Go on. Your eyes are fucking cloudy," Rocke said. "You need to take a chance. At least try to get a little."
An image of Alex's ex-wife sprang to mind. When she left that day nearly two years ago, she said it was because he was too careful, never did anything spontaneous or impulsive. That was one of the reasons he had accepted Rocke's invitation to sail the Caribbean, to learn to be less ordered and rigid in his life.
Draining his beer, Alex turned with a grin. "You're right," he said. "Hope you don't mind another passenger. This works out; I'm asking her to go with us."
"Go to, man," Rocke said.
With just enough liquid courage in him, Alex took the first steps in her direction. His mind raced with thoughts about what he would say, how he would break the ice, but his step faltered when he realized he had no clue how to approach her.
"I'm sick of this whole trip," he heard Cindy say. The look on her face was less than congenial. She seemed fed up and not likely to be receptive of any advances he made. Stepping behind a display of potted plants, Alex listened to the honeyed sound of her voice.
"Why did you agree to come then?" the other woman asked.
"I don't know. He caught me at a weak moment, I suppose. I should've known better. He doesn't give a crap about me. All he wants is a decoration on his arm. I'm just a status symbol to him. He's just as lame as all the other guys I meet. Is it so much to want someone who knows how to sweep me off my feet?"
"Who cares? You're in the tropics at the end of October. So what if you have to sleep with the jerk? Anything's better than the cold weather up north."
"Who said I'm sleeping with him?" Cindy asked, somewhat offended. "I sleep in the second cabin and I keep the door locked. I don't know what to do. It's not like I can afford the plane fare back home. Just thinking of all the fun I'm missing back there makes me wish I was home again. My friend, Cassie spent the past two months creating a haunted house for her Halloween party. I could be at a costume party tomorrow night."
"Bummer. Well, as long as he doesn't mind your not putting out, you may as well enjoy the sun," the other woman said. "You're on a free ride. What are you complaining about?"
"I'm just so bored," Cindy said vehemently. "You're the first real person to actually talk to me in the past week. It's not much fun being in a tropical playground when you don't have anyone to play with."
"I guess you could always hope for a hurricane or drug-running pirates to liven up the trip," the other woman said with a smirk.
"Yeah, that's what I need," Cindy said sarcastically. "At least a hurricane would blow more hot air than Joe does. It might even shut him up. And bite your tongue about pirates. That's all I need. Although, the thought of Johnny Depp swashbuckling his way onto Joe's measly little boat does have appeal."
Both women giggled at that, signaling to the waiter for another round of drinks. Alex stepped away from the plants, turning slowly as he shook his head. He was deep in thought when he returned to his table. That's why he didn't notice the quizzical way Rocke was watching him.
"What happened?" Rocke asked. "You pussy. You didn't even talk to her."
"I know," Alex said distractedly.
"So, what happened? Finding you a woman is going to be tougher than I thought."
"No, I found the woman for me," Alex said, grinning.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I need a favor."
***
"Cheer up, babe," Joe yelled over the sound of the wind. "Isn't this great?"
"Yeah, peachy," Cindy James muttered, not caring if he heard.
This was not how she had expected to spend Halloween, aboard a tiny sailboat with the narcissistic Joe Calloway at the helm. The man was too cheap to spring for the costume party at the last resort they'd been to, so here they were on the sea again. She could have been at one of the many parties that her friends were throwing back home. She could be doing anything other than being stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man who couldn't see beyond his own needs.
Swiping at the salt spray that blurred her vision, Cindy felt a glimmer of hope when she caught a glimpse of something aft. She sat up a little higher, craning her neck and squinting her eyes. Then she saw it again, bobbing on the waves in the distance.
"I see something," she called over the wind.
Joe turned in the direction she pointed, saying, "You're supposed to say 'sail ho', babe. Why don't you get your cute butt down to my cabin and get my telescope?"
With a roll of her eyes, Cindy did as he asked. She was a little surprised when she returned to the deck to see the other boat gaining on them. It was growing larger by the second and looked like it wanted to swallow Joe's little boat for breakfast.
"Gimme the glass," Joe said, reaching out a hand after tying off the tiller.
Cindy had already raised it to her eye. With a squint, she focused in on the other vessel, shocked by the size of it.
"Holy shit," she gasped out.
"Give it to me," Joe barked.
He snatched the telescope, letting out a low whistle as he surveyed the craft. He tried to make out the name on the bow, but it was obscured. There was no mistaking the flag at the top of the mast, though.
"Christ," he yelled. "She's flying the skull and cross bones."
"You're supposed to say 'Jolly Roger', babe," she said with a voice dripping sarcasm.
"Shut up and get below," he bellowed.
"No way. This is the most excitement I've seen on this dreary trip."
Joe had already forgotten her as he took control of the boat once more. Alternating between tying off the tiller and running about like a fool, doing whatever he thought would make the vessel move faster, he managed to change course. But the huge craft kept gaining on them.
Cindy shook her head at him, keeping a thrilled eye on the encroaching sails. When Joe ran forward to tend the sail, she grabbed up his telescope to have a better look. Her heart rate picked up speed when it dawned on her that the craft was familiar. She'd seen it before, and not that long ago.
She scanned the deck through the glass, noting with a laugh that the men aboard were pirates, real pirates. They actually had on pirate costumes, brandishing cutlasses and wearing eye patches.
"You may as well stop, Joe," she called out. "No matter what you do, they'll catch you."
"Shut up and get below," he yelled. "Do you know what pirates would do to you if they saw you?"
"I'm counting on it," she said with a snort.
"You think this is a joke?" he shouted. "These people are dangerous. They'll kill us both and take my boat."
"Why the hell would they want this when they have a yacht?" she said, laughing out loud.
"You don't get it, Cindy..." he began as she handed him the telescope.
He raised it to his eye, frowning when he saw the costumed sailors.
"Yes, I think it's a joke," she said.
"Heave to, or we'll keel-haul ye," a voice called out over a loud speaker.
"It's the goddamn Interloper," Joe muttered, his face darkening. "Someone needs to take that asshole down a peg."
"Oh, lighten up," Cindy said. "At least someone is having fun out here."
