relax. Just love using that line. Always gets the customer’s attention. Here’s the deal, bro. I’m sure there’s not much to driving a boat like this, but,” he said, lowering his voice, “the problem is Trish thinks I’m some kind of fucking expert yachtsman. And before she catches on that I really don’t know shit and chews me out for blowing all this money she could be spending on herself, I gotta get me educated. Fast. Your boss says you’re a top-notch instructor, so I’m thinking you might just be my main man.”
“Ah, I teach sailing to kids, Mr. Sage.”
“Fred, call me Fred.”
“Don’t mean to disrespect or anything, Mr. Sage, I mean, Fred, but why not ask the guy who delivered your boat to help you out?”
“Not available. With his brother away on an extended vacation, if you get my gist, this joker, well, he’s el splitso tomorrow. Hopping on the mule train back to Central America.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Listen, I hear you got Mondays off.”
“Most of the time.”
“I also heard you could use extra cash.”
“Well, yeah, can’t argue that point.”
Woody didn’t feel like getting into a long discussion as to why. Especially because he’d promised Mr. Vargas he’d help rig his new sail and he was already fifteen minutes late.
“How about this? I’d be willing to pay you three hundred big ones to spend tomorrow cruising around with me. We can position it as a, well, you know, a fishing trip. So whaddya say, bro?”
Three hundred dollars, thought Woody. That amount of money would pay for more than half of that Garmin GPS system he needed to buy.
Fred Sage was right. He had made him an offer he just couldn’t refuse.
Woody tried to scurry past the back door of the Spinnaker Café unnoticed, but Elizabeth Vega, daytime chef and wife to Ariel Vega, the club’s mechanic, caught him in the act. Hell, that woman could see an ant doing a backstroke in the middle of the Atlantic.
“Don’t you be sneaking off like you didn’t see me, child!” she shouted, wiping her hands on her stained apron.
“Sorry,” called Woody. “Spaced. Been a long day.”
“So dis be an excuse not to come give me some lovin’?”
Woody hustled over to Elizabeth for a hug. She smelled of her famous Jamaican conch chowder and jerk chicken.
“You be hungry?”
Had she heard his stomach growl?
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“Don’t you be lying to me, child. I happen to know you didn’t eat lunch today.”
Before Woody had a chance to explain, let alone escape, Elizabeth ferried him inside. The kitchen was empty save for Luis, the Costa Rican dishwasher, dancing at the sink. But he was clearly too into his music on his iPod to either care or notice he had an audience.
Elizabeth whipped up a fresh Cubano within a flash. One bite of the pressed sandwich—slow-roasted, citrus-flavored pork combined with ham, dill pickles and Swiss cheese—sent Woody’s taste buds into gastronomic ecstasy.
“Now, don’t you go anywhere, ’cause I got a surprise for you.”
And with that Elizabeth disappeared through the swinging doors into the café. Woody was so busy stuffing himself he never considered the notion that she might be up to no good. But when she returned moments later he nearly choked on his food.
“Woody, dis here is Madalina,” said Elizabeth, impishly grinning. “I thought you just might like to meet her all proper-like.”
The girl had changed out of her navy miniskirt, Trade Winds logo white collared shirt and sneakers into a pair of jeans with a frayed hole on one knee, a pink tank top and flip-flops. Her hair hung loose, halfway to her waist. Freshly showered, it was still damp.
“Hello, Voody. Is pleasure to see you again.”
There was a sliver of a gap between her two top teeth which Woody found sexy. As well as every inch of her.
“Ah, likewise.”
He instinctively extended a hand to shake hers. Too late to check if his palm was sticky from pork or pickle juice or for that matter, nerves.
“I must say to you again how so sorry I am for making mess of you,” she said, returning the gesture.
Her fingers were small and childlike, but her grip was as strong as a grown man’s.
“Hey, seriously, it was all my fault.”
“You know,” said Elizabeth, butting into the conversation. “Dis boy, he is such a gentleman. De nicest boy you ever wanna to know. Everybody love dis boy. He is some catch, dis one be. And, you know, dis boy, he gonna sail his boat ’round the world by hisself some day.”
“Elizabeth, I realize you’ve got my best interests in mind here but, no offense, could you cut the sales pitch?”
“Not saying anything that ain’t true, but don’t you worry none; it’s time for Elizabeth to get home to her other children.”
“I think she love you very much,” said Madalina after Elizabeth had left.
“She’s had this mother thing going on with me since I was twelve, but sometimes she embarrasses the hell out of me.”
“Is because she is proud for you.”
Woody shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
“So tell me, you will really do such a big sail?”
“If all goes according to plan, yep.”
But at this particular moment, the trip Woody had spent so many years preparing for wasn’t exactly on his mind.
“You are very brave.”
“Dunno about that. Some people call solo sailors crazy, but the fact is, a crazy man wouldn’t be able to navigate his way out of a harbor. Let alone sail across oceans. Anyway, my dad, well, he was quite an adventurer. Guess it’s in my blood.”
“Adventurer?” she asked, mangling the pronunciation. “I do not know this word.”
“Someone who, well, takes risks. How can I put this? An adventurer is someone like Christopher Columbus. He took a risk when he sailed across the ocean in search of new worlds. Or when Sir Edmund Hillary climbed Everest. Nobody had ever climbed to the summit of that mountain before, so it was considered, well, you know, a huge risk. And so guys like that are considered adventurers. Explorers.”
Despite his explanation, Madalina still looked quite confused.
“Forgive me, but my English is not very good looking.”
“Sure, it is. It’s—it’s beautiful.”
Had Woody actually allowed those words to drop out of his mouth?
“I try hard to study my English fast. I watch television and I make collection of many American magazines. I like very much Vogue, Peoples, InStyle, Town and Countries, Ocean Drives. Many, many stories of rich and fame.”
“Plenty of that in South Florida.”
“I know. I just love America. Is great land of opportunity, yes?”
“For a select few perhaps, but for far too many others, well, they’re not so lucky. The gap between the rich and poor is still real wide. I’m afraid that old American dream of rising from rags to riches overnight is pretty much a fairy tale and—”
The corners of Madalina’s mouth had visibly dropped.
“I’m sorry,” Woody said,