“The office on the very top with all the windows is the fleet dispatcher’s office. They dispatch the fleet vessels that build together barge tows that go out with our vessels,” Tristan explained in detail, hating the idea of leaving the cool truck and venturing out into the heat. “We have a crew stationed here that strips and cleans the barges before they are taken to the refineries or chemical plants to be loaded. Mail and supplies are kept on the bottom floor to be picked up by the boats when they pass through here.”
Tristan was the first out of the truck. She walked around to the passenger side and handed Claire a life vest. She put on her own jacket first, hoping Claire would mimic her actions. Claire wrestled with the straps and, within minutes, had the life jacket looking like a bear had mauled it.
Tristan fought the urge to snicker as she stood watching in amusement. “Would you like some help with that?”
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Claire surrendered the mess she had made, looking a little sheepish. It took Tristan a few minutes to unscramble the straps, after which, she held up the jacket and had Claire slip her arms through it. When Claire turned around to face her, Tristan hesitated a moment, reluctant to fasten the closure over Claire’s well-defined breasts. From her vantage point, Tristan could see Claire’s cleavage, and the sight made her hands shake as she fastened the closure.
“Now, Claire, I am not trying to scare you when I tell you this.
Should you go overboard, there are some things you should remember, the first of which is not to panic. Blow the whistle attached to the vest and try to avoid getting between the barges.”
Claire stood wide-eyed and speechless as she stared down at the churning water below the catwalk and wondered why she had agreed to this. “Tristan, I’m having second thoughts about this.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Claire. I’ll be by your side. I just thought it was necessary to explain this to you. I’ve been going out on these boats for years and have never fallen over. I just want you to know what to do should anything happen.”
Claire swallowed hard and nodded her head. Tristan presented her with a hardhat containing a mass of straps even more confusing than the life vest. “We are supposed to wear these when we are on the landing barge and also when we are on the barges that the boat pushes. I kind of fudge on the landing barge rule because I hate to get hat hair. So if you agree to keep my secret, I won’t make you wear yours. Do we have a deal?” Claire quickly agreed.
They began to descend the levee toward the catwalk that would take them across a small portion of the turbulent Mississippi River to the landing barge. Before they could make it across the walk, Tristan stopped dead in her tracks. She turned with an embarrassed smile, finding Claire taking baby steps and looking down at the water. “Do you see that guy taking a piss off the side of the boat over there?”
“Oh, Dear Lord in Heaven, yes! Aggghh, that’s just plain nasty!
Don’t they have toilets on the boats?”
Tristan laughed for a long time before she could respond. “Yes, they do, but some guys just don’t want to take the time. It’s easier to go off the side of the boat. The reason I brought your attention 31
Murky Waters
to his raunchy little display is because he is the engineer for that boat. The engineers do most of the cooking, so when they invite us to lunch, be sure to lie and say you’re not hungry.”
They continued down the catwalk to the landing barge and went directly to the fleet office. Slightly winded from climbing the stairs, Claire entered the fleet office behind Tristan, blinking her eyes to adjust to the darker room.
She heard a deep voice call out to Tristan in a heavy Cajun accent. “Del a crow! Where you been, girl? I’ve been down here for two days, and you just now come to see me. I cooked your favorite food yesterday, hoping you would smell it and show up.”
“Hey, Sam, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry I missed you yesterday. Hughes had me attending meetings with a bunch of suit types. I would have much rather been down here, trust me.”
Tristan hugged him as she spoke.
Sam wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you wear a dress? Was it sexy?
Indulge an old man who spends far too much time on an old towboat.”
“No, you little pervert.” Tristan laughed. “I wore that same old suit I always wear to bullshit like that. Now behave, I have someone I want you to meet.”
Witnessing yet another side of Tristan’s personality, Claire watched with interest as her tour guide interacted with a fellow employee and friend. The bright smile that spread across her was warm and genuine. Claire silently hoped that she would be the cause of such a smile one day.
Claire took full advantage of the moment and studied Tristan from head to toe. The long dark ponytail protruding from the baseball cap beckoned Claire to run her fingers through its silkiness. Her tour guide was indeed a sight to behold standing before her in a snug pair of jeans accompanied by a pair of work boots. The short-sleeved denim shirt revealed a pair of tanned muscular arms. She marveled at how different Tristan looked from the day before in the office dressed in her business attire. She was not sure which look was sexier.
Tristan stepped aside and let Sam get a view of Claire, clearing her throat when she noticed Claire seemed to be in another world.
He wiped his calloused hands off on his pants and held one out for 32
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Claire to shake. He looked at her like she was a lamb chop until Tristan gave him a small slap to the back of the head.
Claire studied him, as well, and wondered if all Cajuns were short but changed her mind when she glanced at Tristan. The captain stood a little over five feet tall. Aside from his hair that was in serious need of a barber, he looked professional in his khaki uniform.
“Claire, this is Sam. He is the captain of the Sarah Ann, which is the boat tied off to the landing barge. He started out as a deckhand before I was born and now is one of our senior captains.” The old man puffed out his chest with pride as Tristan described his accomplishments.
After the introductions were made, Sam offered to show Claire around his boat. The captain was genuinely delighted to be the one to escort the pretty blonde. Typical of the Louisiana summer, the heat was already becoming intense. Tristan watched intently as sweat beads broke out on Claire’s lip as she was led from bow to stern. Tristan shook her head to clear the carnal thoughts that crept into her mind as she watched Claire’s body react to the heat.
Sam took pleasure in showing Claire the outer decks of the vessel, seemingly unaffected by the rising temperature. It wasn’t until he glanced at the now profusely sweating blonde that he realized he should continue the remainder of the tour below deck.
Another set of eyes watched both of them as they descended the stairs. He waited for the pair to get out of earshot before he keyed his hand-held radio and spoke.
“Here’s the stats. She’s about five-foot-seven. I figure she weighs about a hundred and thirty pounds. She’s built like a brick shithouse! Tits and ass for days! Blonde hair, and I think the eyes are brown.”
“Actually, they’re hazel,” Tristan interrupted.
The informer turned slowly to face Tristan. His eyes opened wide, mouth agape. He began to stutter an explanation as Tristan’s dark eyes bore into him. At five-foot-eight, she towered over the short man.
Tristan’s voice was low and calm as she spoke. “Do you think it’s appropriate to announce the physical characteristics of a vessel visitor over the radio to the entire crew? Furthermore, do you think it’s wise to tell a group of men who have been on a boat for thirty 33