Surviving Raine By Shay Savage
Chapter 1 – Lost
My head was pounding, and I was pretty sure the whole room was spinning. Okay, it wasn’t spinning, just rocking. Despite the copious amount of alcohol I’d ingested last night, a rocking room was normal since I lived on my ship. That didn’t exempt me from a hell of a hangover, though.
I rolled over and let the temple-splitting pain run its course before forcing my body to comply with my wishes and rise from my bunk. I made my way over to the cubby-sized bathroom to relieve myself of whatever vodka was left in my system and wash some of the night-grime from my face. If the passengers on this ship could see their captain in the morning, they’d probably disembark as quickly as possible. They might even be willing to charter a canoe to navigate the Caribbean instead.
Not that I was going to look significantly better in the afternoon.
I looked in the mirror, which was usually a mistake. This time was no exception. I hadn’t shaved in a few days, and I looked like I felt – gritty and hung over. The pale blue irises that stared back at me were surrounded by red and dull from lack of real sleep. There was still a bit of a mark on one cheek from last week’s bar fight in San Juan.
After giving my teeth a quick once-over with the brush, I tossed on relatively clean cargo shorts and a rumpled polo shirt that was lying on top of the dresser. I looped my belt around my waist and headed out of the forecastle. At this ungodly hour of the morning, that is – about 7:00am, ship time – I hoped not to run into anyone else.
Usually, most of the passengers that chose to sail with me were not morning people, and I was free to walk about my home without running into them. Apparently, this trip had one early riser. A tiny little dark-haired girl with tanned legs curled up underneath her sat near the mainmast with a book in her lap. Weird. At least she was far enough aft and engrossed enough in her literature that she didn’t notice me.
I entered the pilothouse and gave a nod to the nighttime helmsman.
“You look like shit,” John Paul chuckled. At six-four and two-hundred plus pounds of solid muscle, you didn’t argue with John Paul.
“Thanks,” I replied. John Paul was my one and only friend, which was perfectly fine with me. I had met him right after I graduated from high school out on a shooting range over ten years ago. That’s when I fucking loved guns. I had been good with them, too. Probably still was, though I hadn’t pulled the trigger on one in quite a while. It’s too easy. I’d rather use my fists if I really needed to. “How’s The Oblation running?”
“Smooth as always,” John Paul said, tilting his favorite cowboy hat back a little on his head. He looked me over and rubbed his fingers around on his chin, which was covered in fine, dark hair. “Any survivors?”
“I didn’t wake up with anyone ugly,” I replied, grabbing the pack of smokes off a short table next to the wheel. I pulled a lighter out of one of the pouches on my belt, right next to my favorite jackknife, and lit up.
“Well, that’s a bonus at least,” John Paul said. He handed the wheel over to me with a nod. I sat back on the stool, tossed one arm casually over the top of the wheel, and looked out over the bow at the slow rolling waves of the Caribbean. I took a long drag and exhaled smoke off to one side.
“Remember that bitch in Puerto Rico?” John Paul asked, as if I was going to forget her. “You didn’t even realize she was on the ship when we left!”
John Paul chortled, and I cringed. I was stuck with her for four days until I could get her back. If I had just picked up a tourist or a local, that would have been one thing, but this one had been a working girl. Cost me a fucking fortune.
“She wasn’t ugly,” I mumbled.
“She wasn’t hot, either,” John Paul said. All right, I had to give him that. At least I had made sure I got my money’s worth once I realized I was stuck with her for a few days. She may not have been the hottest, but the chick had a tongue that wouldn’t quit and she sucked cock like…well, like a pro.
Which she was.
“Fuck off and get some sleep,” I told him. Thinking about it was making me a little uncomfortable in my shorts. I must not have gotten any action last night after the vodka shots. John Paul laughed and headed off to bed for the morning.