She turns to the Captain. “You see? He makes me so happy. So eager to share that he forgets himself sometimes. It’s like having a little puppy.”
They both laugh, and it’s at my fucking expense, so I do the mature thing and reach underneath the table and pinch Angie’s ass.
“Ow!” She jumps in her chair, then whirls and glares at me. Serious daggers this time. Poisoned. With teeth.
“Are you alright, Marie?” Chuck asks. She’d given him her mother’s name when she sat down, which was good thinking. I have no idea how much information they have on us or not. Angie can be frustrating, but she pays attention.
“What? Yes, sorry. Just a muscle that cramped for a second. It happens sometimes. A serious pain in my backside.” She smiles sweetly, and I grin at her little jab.
“Oh, I understand. In fact that reminds me of a story from back in the Navy.” For the next fifteen minutes we’re subjected to the most self fucking centered saga I’ve ever heard. Chuck’s apparently filled every possible role that exists on the sea, and his tale is basically one long brag about him in a boat with a leak before it sank.
Fine, so it was during a storm and his navigator had spent most of the storm hanging over the rail, puking his guts out. The compass was spinning wildly, the engine only fired half the time and there might have been a fucking kraken or something. I don’t know. Pretty sure he’s just making shit up. Angie looks fucking enthralled though.
I have no clue whether she really believes him, or if she’s doing it just to annoy me, but she’s got me pissed either way. I’m just about to pinch her again when someone kicks my shoe. I turn and find Joyce’s eyes on me, looking like she thinks she’s so damned clever.
I misplace my charm and snap at her, “What?”
She completely ignores my tone. “She’s not interested in him, you know.”
“Of course not.” Am I that obvious? “Why?”
“We had a little chat earlier. She’s a sweet girl.” Joyce pauses to take a sip of her wine. “You hurt her today. It was obvious.”
Wait, Angie’s confiding in old ladies now? “So why wouldn’t she leave, then?” I’m half amused, half curious.
“If you can make her that mad, she’s got a soft spot for you. Only those you love can truly hurt you.” She smiles warmly and puts her wrinkled old hand on top of mine. It’s like talking relationships with my grandmother, except mine is probably on a beach in Cabo with her new boy toy. Come to think of it, they’d probably get along great.
I return her smile. “Good to know.” I shrug. “I just have to do my best to make it up to her.” My teeth ache from all this sweet talk. We’re engaged and I’m supposed to be in love and shit, when I really only want to turn around and bust Chuck’s Pinocchio nose.
Joyce narrows her eyes at me. “Are you good with your tongue?”
“What?” She didn’t just ask what I think she did, did she?
“You want to make it up to her. Don’t you? A good tongue will get you far. Henry... he was my favorite husband, you see. Number three. Anyway, Henry could do this little thing with his tongue that drove me crazy. Right up the wall.” Her gaze goes distant while she remembers.
I laugh quietly. Yeah, she and Grandma would get along just fine. They’re both fucking nuts. But whatever. She seems nice enough.
She snaps back to the present. “Anyway, all I’m saying is this, young man, a tongue can get you out of as much trouble as it gets you into. It certainly worked on me. Of course that was back when I could get my knees behind my ears. Henry and I were married almost thirty years before his heart attack. Oh, I miss him still.”
I try not to shudder visibly. I mean, sure I know old people have sex. I bet it’s fucking great. Awesome. Beyond belief. I hope I’m one of them someday. I could live without the visual though.
“Just think about it, dearie.” She winks, then returns her attention to her friend, leaving me confused and a little bit queasy. I shake my head and turn back to Angie and Chuck.
“So there I was, and I swear the shark I had on my hook was thirty feet long. At least. The biggest shark I’ve seen before or since. Massive. It fought like it knew it was facing the end of its days, pulling and charging and doing everything it could to drag me into the water rather than the other way around. Hell, I had six guys lined up to keep me on board, one after the other. We didn’t have a proper shark-fishing chair, and so we just jammed ourselves up against the railing and prayed we’d pull the beast up over the rail.” Chuck wipes his face like he’s getting sweaty just telling the most ridiculous fishing tale ever.