hand, I take your shit, bite my tongue. On the other, I save you from drowning—you’re welcome, by the way—and worry I might have to save you from Mr. S, who happens to be bankrolling my whole week.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“Then why are you sitting here all alone? Is a crowded bar as scary as the deep, dark sea?”
“Both are full of predators,” she said.
He looked into the throng. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“We live in different food chains.”
Jason, who’d been hanging back near the water, walked up. “Got to eat, mon.”
Liz nodded. “Let us buy you dinner, Lady Eleanor.”
“Els,” she said. “Why should I want any more of your company?”
“Do you always make it so hard for a guy to apologize?” he said. “My parting shot was over the line.”
“Did I miss the ‘I’m sorry’?”
“You did,” he said, and grinned. “I was provoked.” He held out his hand. “We’ll protect you from the denizens of Sunshine’s.” When she didn’t move, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. In the floodlights, his eyes were clear blue, unguarded. “Recovered your land legs yet?”
“I’ve been in a state all afternoon,” she said. “Antsy and disoriented.”
“Gotta let that attack wear off,” he said. “Time for a Killer Bee. Captain’s orders.”
“No bossing,” she said.
He released her hand. “On shore, we’re equal.”
She gave him a quick once-over. “Prove you believe that.”
Led by Jason, they snaked through the restaurant to a picnic table occupied by three men in windjammer logo shirts. Liz shouted a drink order to a waiter who was maneuvering among the tables holding aloft paper plates that buckled under their cargo of food. Els sat at one end of the bench, Jason sat opposite her, and Liz perched on a palm stump at the end of the table. “Els,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows, “this is Jimmy, Craig, and Spot, seamen of the Wind Spirit and reprobates all.” Jimmy and Craig were ruddy preppies, but Spot’s dark skin was splotched with pink, giving him a piebald appearance and making his nickname as apt as it was cruel.
The waiter set down bottles of Carib and a plastic cup. “Killa Bee fuh the lady,” he said. “Watch out fuh de sting.”
She lifted the cup and looked at Liz.
“Secret recipe,” he said. “Heavily guarded.”
“Zombie material—every kind of rum in the bar, with a splash of fruit juice?” she asked.
“Close enough.” Liz banged his bottle on the table. “A toast,” he called. The hum dropped a notch and patrons turned to stare. “To Lady Eleanor, who needs a little festivity on her birthday.” He touched his bottle to her cup. “Riffraff such as we will do our humble best.” The sailors and patrons toasted her.
She raised her cup. “Sláinte.”
“Slan what?” Liz asked.
“Any rental captain worth his salt should know every toast in the world,” she said.
“It’s Gaelic,” Craig said.
“Lou wai,” Liz said.
“I got that one often enough in Hong Kong,” she said, “until they learned I could keep up.”
“Mebbe you hold you rum better dan champagne,” Jason said.
“Maybe I’m better on land than on a careening boat,” she said.
Jason looked toward the bar.
Els tasted the rum punch, its fresh nutmeg a pungent sawdust on her tongue. The restaurant’s buzz resumed.
“What tales this time, lads?” Liz said.
“A Belgian scores some mega weed in Montego Bay,” said Craig. “Thinks he’s Spider Man and scrambles up the main rats, then gets the heebie-jeebies and grabs on like glue. Spot goes after him and the bastard freaks out.”
“Imagine that face in the masthead nav,” Liz said. “I’d be scared too.”
“I had to go up there and talk the sumbitch down,” Jimmy said.
“Been up to me, I’d have heaved him from the yard,” Liz said.
Els tuned out and looked around. The bar was constructed of scrap wood and lattice painted in the colors of the Nevis flag fluttering from a nearby palm. Flags and pennants of countries, states, schools, football teams, and rums hung from the rafters. The speakers pumped Bob Marley. The Killer Bee went down as easily as pineapple juice.
The sailors excused themselves and regrouped at the bar. Jason exchanged a glance with Liz and followed them. He stopped their waiter, pulled out a roll of cash, and peeled off bills. As he moved through the crowd, people detached themselves from their companions to have a whispered word with him and shake his hand.
“Doesn’t Jason worry about carrying around so much money?” Els asked.