“Well, we’ll have to leave in a couple of days,” Pam said, frowning. “We can’t afford to stay in the hotel beyond then.”
“Uh, I did say the boat is yours,” Mike pointed out diffidently. “There are three open cabins. They’re small, but comfortable. If hotel costs are the only thing making you go home, move in. You can still go back whenever you’d like, in two days if you want. But it’s stupid to pay for the hotel when you can stay on the boat.”
Courtney raised an eyebrow at that and cocked her head.
“No strings?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m not using them,” Mike said, shrugging. “I already said I wouldn’t kick you out of bed, but I’m not going to drag you there, either. Or attach strings. No strings. Okay, a couple. Leave the cabins in the same shape they were when you got here, which is neat. Help with cooking and the dishes. Help wash down the boat.”
“Those aren’t what I’d call strings,” Pam said, frowning. “That’s just being polite.”
“There are lots of people in the world who are extremely impolite,” Mike said, picking up the paper plates and putting them in the trash. “Are you still checked into the hotel?”
“No, we were going to try to find a cheaper one,” Pam said.
“Okay, you decide,” Mike said. “But the cabins are yours if you want them.”
“What do you plan on doing this afternoon?” Courtney asked.
“I’d like to go fishing, frankly,” Mike said.
“I’m not that into fishing,” Courtney replied. “But I can catch a tan.”
“If you hook into a sailfish you’ll never look back,” Mike said, grinning. “But I don’t think we will this time of day. If we run out to the Stream we might be able to find some dolphin. Dolphin fish,” he added. “They’re fun to catch on light tackle. Or we could go after grouper.”
“Is this like big-game fishing?” Pam asked. “In a chair with a big rod? I saw those kind of chairs in the back.”
“Would be with sailfish,” Mike said. “But, like I said, I don’t think we’ll get any of those today. Maybe tomorrow if we start early. Maybe this evening we might scare some up. Or we can snorkel some more.”
“I’m game for fishing,” Courtney said, shrugging.
“Let’s go, then,” Mike said. “We can run out to the Stream and see what we can scare up.” He stopped and touched a control, bringing up a text screen.
“What’s that?” Pam asked.
“Text version of the national weather reports,” Mike said, nodding. “I can read the weather around here pretty well and it didn’t look as if anything was coming up. But I didn’t want you to find out how crazy it can get on the Stream on your first day out.”
“Thanks,” Courtney said dryly.
Mike unhooked, then started up and spun the boat to point out to sea. As soon as they were away from the reef, he pushed the throttles forward to maximum and set the autosteer, climbing up onto the tuna tower.
“This is great,” Courtney said, climbing up the ladder, followed by Pam.
“This is a great view,” Pam said, clutching at the railing as the tower swayed from side to side.
“Sure is,” Mike said, gesturing to the seats to either side of the captain’s chair. “You can see for miles.” He pulled a pair of binoculars out of a case and tracked around the horizon.
“Okay, what are you looking for, now?” Courtney asked.
“Hmmm…” Mike said. “Various things. Certain types of birds, splashes at the surface would be nice, debris, weed lines. Stuff.”
“Okay,” Pam said, then gasped at the sight in the water below. “There’s a big…”
“Hammerhead,” Mike said, lowering the binoculars and looking over her side. “About twelve feet. That’s why I like it up here you can see all sorts of stuff in the water.”
“This is so cool,” Courtney said, then threw her arms around Mike.
“You’re welcome,” Mike said uncomfortably. “What was that for?”
“’Cause it’s so cool,” Courtney said, letting him go. “I was worried you were a jerk when we met in the bar. But you’re… this is so great!”
“Good,” Mike said, smiling. “All that I ask is that you have fun. If there’s something that’s bugging you, or you’ve got a problem, just tell me, okay? And I’ll see what I can do to fix it. But if you want to thank me, have the maximum amount of fun you can have. That’s all the thanks I need.”
“Why?” Pam asked, frowning. “That’s so weird.”
“Because I’m a guy,” Mike said, shrugging. “You want the simple answer that’s been the answer for centuries? Or do you want the modern answer.”
“Both,” Pam said, her brow crinkling.
“Okay,” Mike said, picking up the binoculars again. “The old, short, answer is that when you’re happy, it makes me really happy. There’s some sort of quote about a man will give a kingdom to make a woman smile. The face that launched a thousand ships. The whole bit.”
“So what’s the modern answer?” Courtney asked.
“It takes all the fun, all the soul out of it,” Mike said, lowering the binoculars. “But… males that see any of several expressions on a female face have an endorphin rush from the sight. It’s a form of drug, a high. For that matter, males have an average of forty percent fall-off in long-term decision-making at the sight of a pretty female face. Those are both clinical studies. I could extrapolate from them, but I won’t. However, it’s definitely the reason that there are topless bars all over the place while things like Chippendales are rare. Women don’t have the same reactions. They can be somewhat visual, but they don’t have the same chemical reaction. It’s called ‘thinking with the other head’ but it’s not. It’s just a chemical reaction in the brain. It’s real for all that,” Mike said. “So if you want to pay me back, just smile. It’s worth every moment, every penny.”
“So we’re a drug?” Courtney asked quizzically.
“A strong one,” Mike said, shrugging.
“I can live with that,” Pam said. “But I want to help, too.”
“I can live with that,” Mike replied, and got the expected laugh. “I hereby promote you to deck wench! Your first duty is to see if you can maneuver a beer up here.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Pam said, grinning. “Courtney, you want anything?”
“I’ll take a beer,” Courtney said. “If that’s okay?”
“Let me check,” Mike said, leaning forward and shading the GPS. “By the time she gets back it will be.”
“Huh?” Courtney asked.
“Twelve mile limit,” Mike replied, grinning. “Technically, this being an American flagged ship, there’s still some sort of law. But past the twelve mile limit, nobody cares if I let a minor drink. But don’t get hammered.”
“Trust me, I won’t on one beer,” Courtney said.
“Three beers, coming up,” Pam said, sliding down the ladder.
“What’s the deal with the twelve mile limit?” Courtney asked, curiously.
“Past the twelve-mile limit, we’re no longer in U.S. jurisdiction,” Mike said. “The reality is that the U.S. owns these waters. They’ll stop anyone they want in this region. But the law gets really tricky beyond the limit. And the reality is that things like drinking ages, and gambling, go out the window. Past the twelve mile limit, you’re beyond the law. Doesn’t matter for you guys, really, but I don’t have to worry about getting hassled for contributing.”
“Oh,” Courtney said, turning around and looking behind them. “Hey, I can just barely see land!”