Chapter 33

January 8 - February 5, 2000

The Bahamas

There is a colorful and historic lighthouse overlooking the picturesque harbor of Bowman Cay, not far from Great Abaco Island. Don McLean lay back in the shade of the Bimini top over the cockpit of the Cal 36 they had on dryboat charter for a couple weeks. He had a beer in his hand, and was contemplating the lighthouse. Pretty, he thought, but pretty boring. "Sure as hell wish we could come up with a little action," he commented to his buddy Art Payne, who was sharing the charter with him.

"Would be nice," Art agreed, his fingers around a beer on the far side of the cockpit. "I had hoped we could come up with a babe or two to make this trip worthwhile."

"Yeah," Don nodded. "I just haven't seen much running around loose. Either they've got a boyfriend, or they've got too much money to want to mess around with us."

"Oh, hell, we ought to pick up something sometime," Art said. "I mean, check out that babe on the Pearson that's coming in. Now, that's a looker!"

It was over behind Don, but he swiveled around to see a somewhat smaller sailboat not far away, with three women aboard -- no guys. That was interesting; it wasn't something you saw every day. It was sailing along slowly, jib down, main eased out to the point of luffing, obviously looking for a place to drop the hook.

What caught his eye -- and what had caught Art's -- was the blonde standing up on the bow, wearing what had to be the briefest yellow bikini he'd ever seen. As he watched, she nonchalantly popped a bubble of bubble gum. "Cute," he said. "But shit, that's jailbait and you know it."

"Damn good looking jailbait, you have to say that," Art grinned. "But you know those older sisters of hers aren't going to let her out of their sight."

Don's eye had been on the jailbait blonde; now he glanced back toward the cockpit of the Pearson. There was a bigger and older woman in a red and white string bikini, hanging onto the mainsheet -- not particularly stacked nor particularly good looking was his immediate reaction, although obviously muscular and in shape. Farther back, at the wheel, was a slightly shorter woman, about that age or even older, wearing a denim-colored bikini, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. Again, not particularly a looker or well built, but obviously solid and strong. He glanced again in surprise when he noticed the woman at the wheel had a cigar clenched in her teeth. His first thought is that he would really rather neither of the older ones hit him; they could do some damage, and the one at the wheel looked like she knew she was tough and didn't care who knew it. "No shit, Sherlock," he replied. "They could hurt a man, either one of them, especially that butch one at the helm."

Nothing brewing there, he thought, although it was nice to check out the jailbait blonde as the Pearson passed close abeam. "Hey, Don," Art said softly, to keep from being overheard, as close as they were. "The babe on the bow," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Check that out!"

"Yeah, sexy," he nodded at the young blonde, who was leaning out over the bow, working on her bubble gum, holding onto the forestay with one hand, an anchor in her other hand, held well out from the boat, looking like she was getting set to drop it.

"Yeah," Art said. "But how big is that CQR she's holding at arm's length?"

"Shit," Don replied, getting his point immediately. "Twenty-five pounds at least, maybe thirty." She'd been standing there holding that anchor at arm's length for at least a couple minutes, looking casually into the water. Once he thought about it, he was pretty damn sure he couldn't do that -- and she hardly seemed to take notice. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know that I'd want her to hit me, either."

Scooter glanced back over her shoulder -- the Phoebe Lee was getting pretty well clear of the Cal 36 now. It was shallow in here, so they wouldn't have to lay out a lot of anchor line and would still have pretty good scope. The water was unbelievably clear, not like the Chesapeake at all. "OK, that should do it," she said. "Michelle, go ahead and drop the hook, let out the line to the double red mark and snub it off."

"OK, Scooter," Michelle replied from the bow, giving the anchor a toss -- not hard, just enough to get it a few feet away from the boat. The chain rode shot past her, and the poly followed. Once the anchor hit bottom, it went out pretty slowly as the boat pulled forward.

Scooter glanced ahead. The single red was going through Michelle's hands; it wouldn't be long now. "Crystal, sheet in hard."

"Right, Skip," Crystal said, and began to quickly overhand the mainsheet. Just about that time, Scooter could see Michelle quickly wrapping the anchor poly around the cleat and setting it off. Timed it just about perfect, she thought with satisfaction as she cranked the wheel hard over to help the boat gybe. The wind hit the hard mainsail and began to swing the boat around, but the bow, being held fast by the anchor, didn't want to swing. Very quickly, the boat swung around and pulled up into the wind, the main luffing as it got into irons, but the snub that the anchor gave to the boat told her that it was set pretty well.

"Good enough," Scooter smiled. "Drop the main and bag it up. We're here, dudettes."

"I'll come help with the main," Michelle offered.

The roller reefing system they had on both the main and the jib was pretty good, but it took an extra set of hands to do it efficiently. It had taken a couple times to work out the drill, but they had it down pretty well by now. "Don't know that we want to piss around with the Bimini tonight," Scooter frowned. "The day is getting pretty well shot in the ass, and I'm thinking we might blow the hell out of here in the morning."

"Depends on if there's any action, I guess," Crystal said. "Those two guys in the boat back there were checking out Michelle pretty good."

"I saw," Scooter grinned. "I've seen better, but I've seen worse, and I'm getting pretty close to eating crackers in bed."

"You mean you're ready to sleep with crumbs?" Michelle laughed.

"Not quite," Scooter laughed. "But getting there. Oh, hell, might as well be friendly." She turned around and looked at the boat not too far behind them. "Hey, dudes!" she yelled. "Any good bars on the beach?"

"Nothing real classy," came a voice from the other boat. "The Pirate's Den is kind of a dive, but it rocked pretty good last night."

"Way cool!" she yelled back. "We'll have to check it out."

"Nice maneuver, sailing to anchor like that," they heard. "Your motor's not working?"

"Hell no, we don't need no steenkin' motor," Scooter grinned. "What do we look like? Baloney boaters?"

"Way cool," they heard one of the guys on the other boat reply. "Maybe we can buy you girls a drink."

"If you're buyin', we're drinking!" she yelled back. "Give us a few minutes to get this thing buttoned up and let's hit the beach!"

"Looks like a couple possibles," Michelle grinned.

"You two are the ones with all the burning desires," Crystal smiled. "Go for it, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not up to taking my pants off for much less than a ten."

"Picky, picky," Michelle teased. "Jennlynn would go for it as long as it's vertical."

"And so long as the money is green, and there's enough of it," Crystal teased back. "I think Jennlynn is cool, but I'm just a bit more picky."

"Your loss," Scooter laughed. "Especially since there's two of them and three of us."

A few minutes later, the three of them had gotten dressed a little more formally for the beach -- Crystal and Scooter had both pulled on fairly short shorts and Canyon Tours T-shirts. Michelle had pulled on a very short wrap-around skirt and a Canyon Tours T-shirt as well, except hers was very tight, and had been cut off so it was only a "Canyon" T-shirt. Scooter was just pulling in the painter for the dinghy when the two guys pulled up in a fairly big Zodiac, pushed by a small outboard. "You girls like a lift?" one of them asked.

"Oh, hell, why not?" Scooter replied. "That hard boat is a little on the small side for the three of us."

"Besides," Michelle grinned. "It'll be good to be on a raft again, even if it is on the dinky side."

In a couple minutes, the five of them were on the raft heading for the beach. "Are you three sisters?" Don asked after a round of first-name-only introductions.

"No, just friends," Crystal said. "We work for the same company."

"You look like you know what you're doing around a boat," Art commented.

"We ought to," Scooter snorted. "That's how we make our living."

"Sailors?" Don asked, just a little surprised.

"I like to think waterman, that's the term I was brought up with," Scooter grinned.

"Where at?"

"Arizona," Michelle smiled.

"Arizona?" Don frowned. "There's no ocean there."

"No," Crystal laughed. "But there's a hell of a neat river we run rafts down seven months a year." She pointed at her T-shirt.

"You mean, like Grand Canyon?" Art said, eyes wide.

"Hell yes, we don't piss around with lesser canyons." Scooter laughed, echoing Crystal's words to her of less than a year before.

"I can believe it of you and Crystal," Don nodded. "But Michelle, you just don't look like what I think of as a Grand Canyon raft guide."

"I know it's hard to believe," Crystal laughed. "But she's the company's senior boatman."

"You mean you're like a senior in high school and a Grand Canyon boatman?" Art shook his head.

"I was once," Michelle laughed. "But that was years ago."

"You're pulling my leg," Don grinned. "You can't be over sixteen at the most."

"Better not tell the guy who owns the company that," she laughed. "He might have second thoughts."

Before long, they pulled the Zodiac up onto a wide beach and hiked across it to a row of businesses, one of which was an interesting-looking if slightly seedy bar. "We've been here a couple days," Don said. "This is probably the coolest place here."

It was cool and dark inside; the place was about half full. They found a table, and a black waitress came over to get their orders. The guys, Scooter, and Crystal ordered beer, but Michelle said, "I'm in the mood for cheap bourbon. George Bickel if you have it, but JD will do if you don't."

"Are you sure you want whiskey, miss?" the waitress said in a lilting West Indian accent.

"Yeah," Michelle nodded. "Better make it a double. Oh, and maybe a beer chaser, I'm thirsty too, whatever you have on draft."

"Whatever you say, miss," the waitress said.

"Michelle, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Don asked dubiously.

"Yeah, I like cheap bourbon; don't ask why. I can barely hack that high priced single malt Scotch some people think is so cool. Dad says I'd be happier drinking moonshine out of a Mason jar, and sometimes I think he's right. George Bickel is about as close to it as you can get."

Don glanced up to see the grins on Scooter and Crystal's faces. He'd tried George Bickel once. That one time had been enough. From the looks on their faces, it seemed like they figured this teenybopper was about to learn her lesson.

The waitress came with their orders a couple minutes later, and asked if they'd like to have dinner. They allowed as how they'd like to have a couple first, and the waitress turned to go. But, Michelle spoke up and said, "Hang on a second, will you?" The waitress turned around, and Michelle took the bubble gum out of her mouth, tossed down the double, followed by the large mug of beer in about three seconds flat, then popped the bubble gum back in her mouth. "That was pretty good," she grinned. "I could hack another one of those if these guys are buying," she grinned.

"You're kidding!" Art said, eyes wide.

"That made a fairly good warm-up," Michelle grinned. "I'm in the mood to have a little fun tonight."

"Hell, I'll buy," Don, shook his head. "I can't believe that when another one of those hits you that you'll be crawling out the door."

"Never had to crawl home yet," Michelle grinned. "First time for everything, I suppose, but I don't think it's tonight."

Over the next hour or so, they had a couple beers each -- except for Michelle, who had four, plus four doubles of Bickel. However, the alcohol seemed to have no particular effect on her, except that it made her giggle and pop her bubble gum more. They each ordered hamburgers, fries, and beer, except that Michelle ordered two beers and two more double shots!

By now, both Scooter and Crystal were giggling -- not so much from the beer they'd been drinking, but from the awed reaction of the two guys as they watched Michelle toss back all that booze and still be working her bubble gum.

It was the bubble gum that irritated a guy at the next table who hadn't been paying attention to how much Michelle had been drinking. "Hey teenybopper," he said with a sneer, "Shouldn't you be drinking some kind of bubblegummer drink like a Long Island or a Zima or some girl shit like that?"

"I can drink your ass under the table any day of the week," she replied with just as much of a sneer.

The guy at the next table was the kind who would have slugged a man who made that kind of a statement, and some women. But Michelle looked so young and so girlish that he just couldn't bring himself to do it. "Aw, bullshit," he replied. "You're just talking trash, bitch."

"You buy it and I'll prove it," she grinned. "In fact, let's do it this way. First one to barf or pass out pays."

"Shit, this will be like taking candy from a baby," he sneered.

"Sure will," she laughed.

By now the exchange had drawn the attention of several people at tables around them, plus the waitress, the bartender, and the bouncer. "Let's start this off simple," she said. "I'm getting a little tired of George, let's have about four doubles of Absolut for each of us to get started."

The waitress just shook her head in disbelief. "You want what?"

"Oh, if you don't have Absolut, any kind of strong vodka will do," Michelle grinned, and turned to the smart mouth. "Unless you'd rather do this with Everclear."

"How about 150-proof rum?" the bartender suggested.

"That's kind of candy-ass but it'll do," Michelle grinned.