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Rebel(34)

By:Kim Linwood


“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.

“Anyway, as I mentioned before, we were going through the Gulf of Aden at the time, which is a hotbed of piracy any time of year. On top of that, it was a particularly rough year for unrest in Somalia, so there we were, right in the middle of hauling aboard the largest shark possibly recorded ever, anywhere, and all of us unable to take our eyes off the gruesome battle of life and death unfolding in our wake.

“But something, a feeling or a kind of premonition, spooked me. I looked up for a second, and spotted them. The pirates were almost on top of us, gaining quickly in six powerful speed boats. They were already so close I could read the ruthless expressions on their faces and see that they were armed to the teeth. Their decks were so loaded down with firepower, I was surprised they didn’t sink, much less be able to come at us so quickly.