Just Add Water (1) (21 page)

39

“My, my, but you and Jenks have
certainly been spending a lot of time together,” Jan said, taking a slug of her
beer. “Seems every time I talk to Jenks he’s been with you.”

“I can’t say the same thing for
you,” I griped. Okay, I whined. I popped a cap and took a gulp of diet soda.

“Dieting again, Hetta?”

“Don’t change the subject, Jan. Do
I have cooties? Where have you been?”

“Packing. Sorting. And by the way,
most of the stuff I’m havin’ to pack is yours. Are you sure you want me to take
your antiques to Florida?”

“Oh, why not. I’ve got no place to
put anything, and I don’t want my good things in a storage locker. You might as
well enjoy them.”

“So, word has it Jenks is a regular
figure around here. What have you two been up to, Miz Hetta? Inquiring minds
wanna know.”

“You really want to know?” I asked.

“I really, really do.”

“Then stand by to cast off,
sailor.” I strode to the console, started the engines and began to secure for
sea.

“Er, Hetta, what are you doing?”

“Showing you what Jenks and I have
been up to, as you so nosily put it.” I hopped off the boat, disconnected the
shore power and all lines but the spring.

Jan, hot on my heels, yawped,
“Can’t you, like, just
tell
me?”

“Nope. It’s show and tell. Now,
hold this line. When I tell you, unloose it from the cleat and yell ‘clear.’
Got that?”

“Oh, shit. I’ve got it all right,
but are you sure about this?”

I
ignored her, climbed to the flying bridge, and checked my instrument panel.
“Okay sailor, Cast off all lines.”

She, after a moment’s hesitation to
watch her life pass before her eyes, took a deep breath, yelled, “clear,” and
then mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like the Lord’s Prayer. I
backed slowly out of the slip, rotated
Sea
Cock
on her own length, threaded her down a narrow channel between other
docked boats, and entered the estuary.

By the time we cleared the marina,
Jan was all smiles and had joined me on the flying bridge. “Oh, this is sooo
cool,” she gushed. Then she saluted and added, “Captain Coffey, ma’am, all
fenders and lines secured. Hell, I haven’t been taking sailing lessons for
nothing. I be good crew.”

“Well done, matey. Where do you
want to go?”

“Uh, gee, I dunno. How about
Tahiti?”

“I
think that’s a bit ambitious for my first solo. Let’s stay on this side of the
bay for now.”

“Please tell me you didn’t say
first
solo.”

“I saved it for you.”

“Jesus. Don’t do me any more
favors, okay?”

“Relax. Jenks has had me doing this
for weeks. Now, where to, ma’am?”

“Rusty Bucket?”

“Atta girl. Bucket, it is.”

Twenty minutes later, we made a
pass at the Rusty Bucket’s guest dock. As Jenks taught me, I lined up parallel
to the dock, but a few boat widths off, and put the boat in neutral. Within
seconds I could tell the current was with me, so we made a wide circle and
lined up in the other direction. The current, plus a mild breeze, made it
necessary for me to walk the boat sideways, using engines and rudders. I had
practiced diligently for this moment and wasn’t disappointed. Not that I needed
them, but by the time I maneuvered alongside, four men waited to take our
lines.

Before we stepped triumphantly from
Sea Cock
, I gave Jan my best, “told
you so” look and whispered. “Buy it, and they will come.”

An hour later, we left the
Bucket—six men helped us with the lines this time—and motored back to the yacht
club to catch the end of Happy Hour.

Jan was ecstatic. “Hetta, I am so
proud of you. A little miffed you kept such a huge secret from me, of course,
but proud nevertheless. I’m gonna call your mama and daddy the minute I get
home and tell what you’ve done. I know they’ve been a little worried.”

“They have?” I think Jan called my
parents more than she does her own mother. Maybe more than I do. I would have
loved to hear some of those conversations.

“They’re a little concerned. I
guess they picked up that I didn’t care too much for Garrison, but they worry
about you alone on the boat, even though I’m not sure they believed you two
were, like, platonic. It’s that Tokyo thing, you know.”

“You didn’t tell them Hudson got
offed at my house, did you?”

“Oh, no. No way.”

“Good. If I tell you something,
Jan, will you promise on a stack of Bibles, hope to die, you won’t say anything
to anyone? Especially the parents?”

“Needles in my eyes.”

I told her about the reward for
Hudson, Martinez’s warning about Hudson’s bad guy associates, all of it. We
were approaching the yacht club by the time I finished.

“Hetta, you shit,” she yelled,
“give Martinez the damned key. I mean it. I swear, if you don’t tell him about
the key, I will. I don’t care if you never speak to me again and I take back
the Bible and needle thing. You are being just plain dumb.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll call
Martinez. Soon. I promise. Meanwhile, not a word to anyone. Oh, look, Jan, men
all over the dock, waiting to take our lines. What a surprise.”

Knowing I had an audience, I took
special pains to put
Sea Cock
alongside the dock with the flair of someone whose knees were not knocking.
After securing the boat, I joined Jan at the bar where she sat with Lars and
Jenks. Jenks was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well done, Hetta,” he said, “I couldn’t
have docked her any better myself. I guess you won’t be needing me any more.”

“Oh, yes I will,” I said quickly,
and blushed.

Jan cut me a knowing look as I
managed to stammer, “I mean, there was little wind and not much current, and I
still have so much to learn, and—”

Jenks held up his hand. “Hey, I was
joking. Don’t worry, I’ll be around as long as you need me.”

Jan’s eyebrows arched and her mouth
formed a little kissy. I squared my shoulders and gave her a warning look.
“Quick, I need a drink. This captain stuff is dry work.”

“Yeah,” Jan said, “all those men
trying to buy us drinks at the Bucket and Hetta goes on the wagon.”

“Booze and boats don’t mix, right
Jenks?” I said, quoting a Coast Guard safety slogan. “Besides, I’m on a diet,
so I saved my allotted empty calories until we got back to the club.”

Jenks brought me a split of
champagne and for all my good intentions, bubbly continued to appear from the
bar, obliging me to exceed my calorie limit. Then I decided I’d better eat
something to soak up the alcohol. We ordered pizza from a delivery service and
I quipped, “So much for will power. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we
diet.”

“No, tomorrow we learn to anchor,”
Jenks said, “And you don’t need to diet, you’re fine the way you are.”

He took a bite of pizza.

I fell in love.

40

Chills. Fever. Dizziness, nausea
and delirium.
 

Recognizing the symptoms, I hoped
it was simply a reoccurrence of childhood malaria, but I suspected the dreaded
love bug.

I was right. Malaria, after several
days of pure horror, goes away. Love’s repugnancies burrow in. Why can’t I
throw up and get it over with? And if falling in love is painful, falling into
unrequited
love is downright agony,
although I’ve always found it does wonders for the waistline. The wonder is I
don’t have a wasp waist.

Tums helps some, as does a heavy workload. Luckily
for me I had an abundance of both. I was kept really busy the next week or two,
traveling on business and helping Jan finalize her move to Florida. I had
little time for anchor drills with Jenks, so saved myself the embarrassment of
being all mooney.

When in Jenks’s presence, I became
suddenly shy. Well, as shy as
I
get.
I avoided being alone with him, lest I make a total fool of myself by doing
something like throwing my naked, throbbing body at him. Or worse, letting him
know how I felt. I really, really, really hate rejection.

It wasn’t until Lars and Jan’s
going away shindig that I spent any time with the object of my newly formed
obsession.
Obsession.
How’s that for
a boat name? Nah, too perfumey.

“Hetta, are you all right?” Jan
asked me the night of the party. “You look flushed.”

“Must be the heat.”

Jan looked out at the July fog.
“Oh, really? Or could it be something else? Not heat, but hots?” she teased.
“Maybe something beginning with ‘J’? I notice you’re avoiding him like the
plague.”

“A pox upon you and what you
notice. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said loftily. And to prove
her wrong, I dragged her over to Jenks’s table and sat down.

“Hi, stranger,” he said, “haven’t
seen much of you lately. Am I fired?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve been, uh, I think I have a
touch of malaria.”

He looked at me a little strangely,
which he did a lot, and shrugged. “Oh, yeah. I hear that’s been going around.”

Jan, unable to hold her tongue,
scoffed, “Yeah, in Sri Lanka.”

I gave her a dirty look and turned
my attention to Jenks. “Don’t mind her, she’s just getting uppity since she’s
leaving for the jungles of Florida and won’t have me around to keep her
straight.”

He smiled. “I stopped by
Sea Cock
a couple of times. You were
gone.”

“You did?"
I perked up.

“I wanted to check on that oil
leak,” he said in a “just doin’ my job, ma’am” tone.

“Oh.” I hope I didn’t sound as
disappointed as I felt. I’m such a ninny. “Maybe I should give you a key to
Sea Cock
so you can do your job when I’m
not around.” Did that sound snippy?

He didn’t seem to notice. “Sure, if
you like. Make things easier.”

I dug out an extra key, slapped it
petulantly into his hand, and silence befell us. Not something I tolerate well.
So I filled it with something stupid. “Do you like guns?” I asked, not having
any idea where that came from.

“I hunt. Do you?”

“Nope. I shoot beer cans. I feel more
secure with a gun around the house. Boat.”

He smiled and said, “I somehow can’t
imagine you feeling insecure about anything, Hetta. You seem like you take care
of yourself pretty well.”

Merde
.
Men hate women who can take care of themselves. I had an idea. “Actually Jenks,
I feel a little isolated down here. Uneasy at times. When the club is closed
and everyone is gone, I sometimes wish more people lived at the marina. And
when I’m gone, I worry someone will break in. We are, after all, in Oakland.”
Was that convincingly needy? I thought so. Evidently, so did Jenks.

“I can fix that.”

“One man urban renewal?” I asked.

He laughed. “I’m not that good, but
I can fix you up with a security system.”

“You can?” Like I didn’t know that.
Like I didn’t know he
owned
a
security business.

 
He nodded. “I’ll come down first thing tomorrow and discuss it
with you. It’s....Oh, excuse me, Hetta, my date’s here.”

He stood, waved to the blonde I’d
seen him with before, and hustled over to meet her. I rose to escape, but Jan,
with a look of supreme glee, pulled me back in my chair. Jenks ferried his date
over to the table, sat her in a chair next to me, introduced us, and left us to
pick our noses while he went to the bar to get us a drink. I hoped hers was
hemlock.

Shirley twirled a long, bleached
strand of split ends with a claw painted a shade I call Bordello Red. “So,
Hetta,” she said, “I hear you live on a boat.” Actually, Shirley
breathed
it. She must have been a Jackie
O. fan. Or, meow, maybe a contemporary?

“Yeah, I got tired of working the
rice paddies.”

“Huh?”

“A little boat person joke. So,
Shirl, you and Jenks been dating long?” I asked.

Jan, no doubt enjoying the crappy
situation I found myself in, pursed her lips at the underlying bitchiness in my
tone.

The object of my malevolence didn’t
seem to notice. She opened her very red lips to answer my less than subtle
question about her relationship with Jenks, but Jan beat her to the punch.
“Over a year. Right, Shirley?”

Old Shirl nodded, the little pout
forming on her face threatening to crack her pancake makeup. “Over a year is
right. I wish Jenks was more like his brother. I mean, look at you Jan, you’ve
only known Lars a few months and he’s taking you off to Florida. Jenks won’t
even take a key to my apartment, much less give me one to his.”

I suddenly felt much, much, better.
Maybe it was the quinine in my gin and tonic.

I actually made a little civilized
small talk. Well, not exactly small. I drilled the broad for every bit of
information she so willingly gave up before Jenks returned with our drinks. As
soon as he did, I grabbed mine and bid them
adieu
.

“Going
home so soon, Hetta?” Jenks asked.

“Oh, no, just thought I’d mingle.
Noblesse oblige,
and all that. So if I
don’t see you again tonight, what time will I see you tomorrow? Early, I hope.
I have
so
much to do.”

“Seven okay?” he asked, and I was
rewarded with a Shirley pouty face.

“Perfect,” I said, “I’ll have the
coffee ready.”

I sashayed off, leaving any thoughts
Shirley had of a lazy Sunday breakfast in bed with Jenks shattered in my wake.
After a few steps, I turned back. “Oh, and Jenks, if I’m still out for my
morning walk, use your key.”

Like Mae West, when I’m bad, I’m
best.

Jan caught up with me on the way to
the bar. “That was quite a little show, Miz Hetta. One might think you were
jealous.”

“One might stick her thoughts where
the sun don’t shine. Hey, who’s the hunk?” I asked, nodding towards the end of
the bar. Okay, call me fickle.

“New member. British. Don’t you
think he looks like Lawrence Harvey, the actor? He’s sooo elegant.”

I whistled. “I’d say elegant is an
understatement. Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

“Oh, sure. How do you plan to break
through the pack of slavering WOEies surrounding him?”

“Jan, Jan, Jan. How long have you
known me? Will you never learn? Follow and observe.”

We went, not to the end of the bar
where the new guy was holding court, but the opposite end. I finished my gin
and tonic and ordered another. “And Paul, my man,” I told the bartender, “be so
kind as to send a drink to yon dude and put it on my tab. There’s a good boy.”

“Brazen hussy,” Jan whispered. “I
love it.”

Alan, as his name turned out to be,
looked up in surprise when Paul handed him a Chivas and nodded in our direction.
We nodded back, lifting our drinks in a long distance toast. Five minutes later
he was seated between us.

Up close, Alan was shorter than I
cared for, but he had sensuous dark brown eyes, wavy pitch-black hair and a
clipped accent with a hint of the haughty. Not quite the mush of British upper
crust, but definitely not Liverpudlian. His clothes and manner oozed class and
polish. A mite slick for my druthers, but when I caught Jenks sneaking a glance
our way, I was on the Brit like flies on
merde
.
So to speak.

For Jenks’s benefit, I pretended to
be mesmerized by everything Alan said while my crawdad vision never missed
anything Jenks did. I was happy to see old Shirl seemed mightily disgruntled.
She and Jenks departed, leaving me with mixed feelings of jealousy and relief.

Oh, and a randy Englishman, whom I
dumped unceremoniously as soon as Jenks cleared the door. There’s a name for
women like me.

* * *

Jenks was on my boat at seven
sharp. I’d meant to get up and doll up before he showed. I’d overslept and
barely had time to wash the raccoon rings from under my eyes and make
coffee.
 
He was a little jittery and
kept glancing towards my aft cabin. “Uh, if you’d like, I could come back
later, Hetta.”

“No, I’m awake. I’m movin’ slow.
Have a cup while my brain regroups. Jan and I sat up almost all night, what
with it being her last night and all. She just left for Lars’s place so they
could hit the road to Florida. Do you feel deserted? I sure do.”

Jenks looked relieved and I
realized he’d thought maybe Alan was on the boat. I didn’t know whether to be
insulted or flattered. “They’ll be back,” he said. “Lars keeps forgetting how
much he hates Florida.”

That cheered me up. “You want some
breakfast? I’m starved.”

“Sure,” he said. “Tell me where
everything is and I’ll cook.” He got up, walked to my refrigerator, threw it
open and a look of dismay crossed his face. I joined him in the cramped galley
and peered in. Nonfat yogurt, one apple, a six-pack of beer, some Monterrey
Jack and one egg peered back. Pretty dismal.

“Do you know why the French make an
omelet with only one egg?” I asked. He shook his head. “Because one egg is an
oeuf
.”

He didn’t get it.

Through the miracle of freezer
space, I pulled together two “toast it” blueberry waffles and whipped up a
cheese omelet. While I cooked, Jenks asked, “You’re hooked up to the Internet
here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am. Why?”

“I want to try something. You said
you were interested in a security system and I’ve developed one for people who
want to keep an eye on home, or their boat, from anywhere in the world. All
they need is an Internet connection.”

“That sounds like me. Here’re your
eggs and waffles.”

“Looks good.” He dug in and nodded
his approval. “And it is. Anyhow, since I’ll be working on your boat this week
while you’re gone, I thought, if you want, I’ll install a system for you.”

“What’s it cost? Roughly.” After
Garrison, I had learned that anything that gets done (or in Garrison’s case,
not
done) on a boat is big bucks.

“Oh, let’s say a hundred a month?”

“That’s all? No equipment?”

“I’m renting it to you.”

“Deal,” I said. “More coffee?”

“Don’t you want to know how it
works?”

“Surprise me. All I care about is
that it works.”

“Okay, then. I’ll get started
tomorrow morning early. Call me at this number,” he handed me a card for his
security business, “tomorrow night from wherever you are and I’ll tell you what
I’ve done and how to check it out.”

He stood to leave. “Like I said,
call me. I’ll give you a code to type into a special Internet site. I think
you’ll be pleased with what I’ve done. And I’m giving you a big discount. I
charge lots more for corporate accounts.”

“Whatever. I trust you to do the
right thing,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.

“Maybe you trust people a little
too much, Hetta,” he said, surprising me. It was the first time he had even
hinted at giving me personal advice. Maybe he’d been warned, but he wasn’t
scared off by my frown. “Not everyone has your best interests at heart, you
know.”

I felt my blood pressure rise,
while struggling to keep my voice neutral. I hate advice. “You mean like
Garrison?”

“Him. And maybe others.”

“Who others?”

He shrugged, unwilling to
elaborate. “Maybe you should think about being a little, uh, less friendly with
strangers, that’s all.”

Jan, Martinez, and now Jenks. Could
I help it if I was an extrovert? Jenks looked so sincere, I didn’t behead him
like I would most folks who dared to hint that my facile extroversion might
lack good judgement? Coming from him, it sounded like genuine concern.

Typically, instead of seizing the
moment to further our relationship, I drawled, “Why sir, I’ve learned to
rely
on the kindness of strangers.”

He didn’t get it.