“Since you’re in the driver’s seat,” she said, “that means you’re holding the whip.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “I think we both know who’s holding the whip here.”
The captain and his mate were waiting for us on the dock when we arrived. I had a picture in mind of an old, gray-haired sea captain, pipe in his mouth, and one eye squinted shut. But the reality was far from it. The captain, Captain Johnson, or as he asked us to call him, Gunnar, was a tall, chiseled Nordic man, late thirties - early forties, smartly dressed in a navy-blue suit. At his side, his mate, Einar, could have been his identical twin, though slightly shorter.
The both of them couldn’t have been more polite. They treated us not like passengers or guests but like royalty.
The yacht, itself, was much smaller than I expected—not that I was the kind of man who complained about the size of the yacht he traveled on! But Bonita had said that it could hold up to twelve passengers plus the two crew members. At first glance, I would have guessed no more than four. We were going to be very close over those six days at sea.
There was a comfortable lounge—with a fully stocked bar—and, in addition to the cabin for Gunnar and Einar, there were three other sleeping quarters. Bonita was the only one who claimed a bed for herself. The rest of us, we simply slept on whichever bed we happened to pass out on.
Six days at sea gave us the opportunity to adjust our sleep patterns. It wasn’t so much the five-hour time difference between New England and Iceland, but rather the fact that Bonita was more or less nocturnal. The best way to avoid the sun was to sleep while it was out.
“Full house.” Will proudly laid his cards on the table. “Jacks over eights.”
I tossed my lousy pair of tens in with the other losing hands.
“Drink up,” said Will gloatingly.
I was already beyond buzzed after my fourth shot of vodka, but I wasn’t a sore loser. I raised my shot glass. “To the sea!”
“To the sea!” We clinked glasses then knocked them back in one swift synchronized motion. It was only our first night on the yacht, but already it felt like we had been together for ages and we were already seasoned sailors.
“Once upon a time, there was a queen.” Bonita shuffled through the cards then laid the queen of hearts in the center of the table. She smiled at us. “And the queen had seven…” She eyed us one by one, her smile becoming more and more mischievous. “Seven...”
“Seven friends,” Christian suggested.
“A queen doesn’t have friends,” said Landon.
“No?” said Bonita. “Why would a queen not have friends?”
“A queen doesn’t have friends,” said Christian in his usual matter-of-fact tone. “A queen has subjects.”
That had quite an effect on Bonita. She raised an eyebrow and bit down on her lower lip. “Subjects, you say? I like that.” She shuffled through the cards. “Once upon a time, there was a queen. And the queen had seven subjects.” She laid out the four jacks then looked through the cards, chewing on her bottom lip as if she were deliberating which ones to layout for the remaining subjects.
Finally, she swiped up the four jacks and put them back in the deck. “Let’s try that again.” She shuffled.
I watched her, mesmerized. The boat swayed gently, and we were all swaying a bit, not so gently, from the vodka. But with Bonita, it was as if she were dancing, as if her body were in sync with the motion of the sea. Her eyes were half-closed, and I wanted to grab her, kiss her eyelids, lay her down and sway with her.
“Once upon a time, there was a queen. And the queen had seven”—she dealt each of us a card, face down, as she spoke—“subjects. They were all good men, faithful to their queen, loyal and obedient subjects.”
“And handsome,” said Ben.
Bonita winked at him. “And handsome.”
“And strong,” said Will, and he flexed.
Bonita licked her lips and nodded. “And strong.”
“And intelligent,” said Ken.
“Fine,” Bonita interjected. “They were all intelligent.” Then she cocked her head to the side and cast him a devious look. “But that’s not the point of my story.”
She shuffled the cards in her hand and continued, “They were all loyal to their queen. They all wanted nothing more than to please her.”
Ken and Landon snickered. I did not. I badly wanted to please Bonita, my queen.
“And they all fought bravely and ferociously,” Bonita continued in a tone that mimicked that of a campfire story, “to see who would be the one to please the queen.”
Will plopped his elbow onto the table, hand opened in a claw. We all laughed. No one, especially not I, took him up on his arm-wrestling challenge.