It was slightly bigger than Vana’s boat, and the proportions were different. I didn’t know a lot about boats, but I knew Vana’s boat was more speed boat. And Hooker’s boat was for deep-sea fishing.
“Do you think they see us?”
“They could be below decks. Or they could be off exploring the island. I’d think they could hear the engine, no matter, even at idle. We aren’t visible behind this tinted sunscreen, so most likely they’re watching us from someplace, messing their pants, wondering who the hell we are.”
“There’s some satisfaction to that,” I said.
Hooker smiled at me. “Sugar pie, you’ve got an evil streak in you. I think I’m getting turned on.”
“Everything turns you on.”
“Not everything.”
“What doesn’t turn you on?”
“Dennis Rodman in a wedding gown.”
Hooker shifted to the side and leaned out the open window. “Hey Bill, you jerk-off,” he yelled. “Get your ass out on deck where I can see you.”
Bill popped into view. “Hooker?”
Hooker turned to me and kissed me. He was smiling when he broke away.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just felt happy, and I wanted to kiss you.”
Seemed to me that there was a lot of tongue in it for just a happy kiss, but hell, he was NASCAR Guy. What do I know? He probably kissed his mother like that. Not that I was complaining. Hooker was a terrific kisser.
Bill was on deck, squinting at us, hand shielding his eyes from the splotches of sun. “Hooker?” he asked again.
Hooker shoved his head back out the side window. “Yeah. I need to talk to you.”
“Hey, I can explain about the boat.”
“Just get your sorry ass over here. I have to talk to you.”
“How’s he going to get over here?” I asked.
“I carry a small rigid inflatable boat with an outboard motor. RIB for short. He’s probably got it in the water, tied up behind the Happy Hooker.”
Bill disappeared, and minutes later I heard an engine kick in and Bill reappeared in the RIB. He maneuvered the inflatable to the dive platform at the back of the Sunseeker and tied up to us.
Bill has red hair that’s cut short and is sort of Hollywood messy. He’s got a little nose and blue eyes that smile 24/7. He’s tanned and freckled. And he’s five feet ten inches of solid Scottish-Irish muscle and bullshit. He was wearing Teva sandals and baggy flowery shorts that hit just above his knees. He climbed onto the dive platform and his cheeks went red under his tan when he saw me. “What the hell?” he said.
And I lost it. “You jerk!” I yelled at him. “You self-absorbed, inconsiderate miserable excuse for a brother. You irresponsible bag of monkey shit! How dare you make a phone call like that and then drop off the face of the earth. You scared the crap out of me. I’m going to lose my job because of you. My nose is peeling. My hair is a wreck. I’ve got seven messages from Mom on my cell phone that I’m afraid to access.”
Bill smiled at me. “I’d almost forgotten how much fun you could be.”
“Fun?”
I was right up there, in his face. I was so angry the roots of my hair felt like they were on fire. I gave Bill a shot to the shoulder that knocked him off balance and pitched him into the water.
Hooker gave a bark of laughter behind me. I whirled around and caught him with a kick to the back of the knee that doubled him over and rolled him off the edge of the dive platform, into the water with Bill.
Both men surfaced still smiling.
“Feel better?” Hooker asked.
“Yes. Sorry about the kick. I got carried away.”