Dog Training The American Male Part 35

Carmella ignored her, focusing on her warm-up exercises.

Infuriated, Nancy took off her shoes and followed the older woman into the waist-deep water, soaking her skirt and blouse in the process. "Why do you have to be so nasty?"

"Go away."

"From the first moment we met, you treated me like dirt. I want to know why."

"You're the hotshot radio wh.o.r.e psychiatrist, why don't you tell me."

"Okay. For starters, you've been hurt. You probably loved Jacob's father very much. After what happened, no one could blame you for being bitter."

"Bitter?"

"Angry then. It's a natural response when a loved one commits suicide. But after twenty years-"

Carmella shoved Nancy backwards so hard she slipped underwater. "You think you know what that man put me through . . . you don't know nothing! I had to clean blood stains out of the bedroom carpet on my hands and knees because I couldn't afford to replace it. I had to use a screwdriver to pick skull fragments out of the drywall before I could repaint the bedroom walls. For months I had nightmares. I had to sleep in the living room. The boys begged me to move; only I couldn't afford it because the military cut off my husband's benefits. Think I'm mean and nasty now? For years I resented my kids for being around because they forced me to stay sober. Instead of checking out on my family, I chain-smoked my way through double-s.h.i.+fts driving a cab just so my oldest son could go to med school-only instead of becoming a brain surgeon the stupid schmuck got his girlfriend pregnant and had to marry her."

"And then your youngest son moved in with a radio wh.o.r.e who what? Just wanted his money? For a long time I was just like you, Carmella, stuck in the blame game . . .feeling sorry for myself -- poor me. Know what I learned? Everyone has problems. Mine may not be nearly as bad as yours were, but I learned something recently-that being bitter about the past doesn't help me today. So go on, keep calling me a wh.o.r.e and see where that gets you with Jacob."

Carmella removed her sungla.s.ses, her squinting hazel eyes filled with rage. "Life's a Beach with Nancy Beach. I used to listen to your show . . . I got a kick out of all the hecklers who'd tease you about offering relations.h.i.+p advice when you couldn't stay in a relations.h.i.+p yourself. So you tell me, Doctor Beach-why did you really move in with my Jacob? Was it because you loved him? Or was it because you were using him . . . trying to prove to your listening audience that you could actually hang on to a guy?"

"To be honest, Carmella, a little of both. Before I met Jacob I had serious trust issues I still do. But your son was kind and sincere, and even though I was mad at him for bringing home that dog from the pound, I realize now why he did it because he has a big heart. I love that about him, and I love that he'd rather make people laugh than earn the big bucks on Wall Street. And yes, while his phobias can drive me crazy, I also know that he's loyal . . . that he'd never hurt me, and that has helped me get over my own trust issues. I'd like to think I've done the same for him."

CYRIL WAS WAITING outside the tuxedo shop when Jacob arrived at ten minutes after six. "You're late, Mr. Jacob."

"Sorry; been behind schedule all day. Ruby's sick. I had to take her to my brother's office."

"Your brother's a doctor?"

"Gynecologist."

"Really? Is he single?"

"He's married. To a woman. Geez, dude, I thought you had a boyfriend?"

"We split. Come on, we need to get your tux and be at the dock before the yacht leaves."

The color drained from Jacob's face. "The yacht's going out to sea? At night? n.o.body told me that?"

"Relax. We're taking a three-hour tour around the Intracoastal. I seriously doubt you'll be in any danger."

"Gilligan took a three-hour tour-look what happened to him!" Jacob followed Cyril inside the rental store. "How deep is the Intracoastal? Does it get rough? Maybe I can do my act early, while we're still docked? Do you think we can convince Olivia to let me go on early?"

"I doubt it. It was hard enough to convince her we were lovers."

"Wait . . . what?"

The store manager greeted them. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Cyril smiled sweetly. "We're picking up two rentals, it's under the names Mr. and Mr. Ben Dover." He handed the man a ticket.

"Give me a few minutes."

Jacob waited until the manager left. "You think this is funny?"

"Hey, don't get snippity, I did this for you. You told me you have a serious girlfriend, yes?"

"So?"

"By telling Olivia we were lovers she agreed to back off. That is what you wanted?"

Jacob grinned. "That was a good idea. Thanks, Cyril. But dude . . . seriously-if you try something tonight like you did back at your house, I'm going to beat you to death with my Lisa Simpson dummy."

"Is that supposed to be a dumb blonde joke?"

"No. But there is a blonde. Her name's Nancy and I just found out she's going to be on-board tonight."

"Your girlfriend's coming to the party? Does Olivia know?"

"She's the one who invited her. Olivia's Nancy's boss, only she doesn't know Nancy and I live together. We need to keep that a secret."

Cyril clapped his hands. "And here I thought this was going to be a boring party."

DOG TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE.

LESSON THIRTEEN: OBEDIENCE TRAINING.

The Boca Raton Inlet is located in south Palm Beach County-its one-hundred-and fifty-foot-wide channel one of several local access points connecting the Intracoastal Waterway with the Atlantic Ocean. The inlet's southern jetty bordered the Bridge Hotel and South Inlet Beach Park; the northern jetty securing the Boca Raton Beach Resort. Along this scenic stretch of converging waterways rose beach condominiums and some of the most expensive properties in Florida.

Occupying the Bridge Hotel's length of dock was the Cabot-II, a sleek white fibergla.s.s 116-foot Lazzara Motor yacht, the three-deck Mecca of entertainment powered by two 1,015 horsepower engines. In addition to the crews' quarters, there were five guest staterooms, a movie theater, Jacuzzi, dining room, and three salons featuring wall-size LCD flat screen televisions wired to the s.h.i.+p's satellite dishes.

Jacob and Cyril arrived at the dock at seven-twenty, only to have to wait in line at the pier while security guards checked in each boarding guest. The setting sun splattered golden sparks across the dark blue waters of the inlet, the humidity causing the back of Jacob's dress s.h.i.+rt to acc.u.mulate sweat beneath his rented tux as he searched the crowd for Nancy.

To his relief, she was not among the cl.u.s.ter of pa.s.sengers waiting to board.

Jacob's plan was simple: Get on-board and hide from Nancy until his stand-up routine was over. If Nancy saw him before the gig she'd demand to know why he didn't tell her that Olivia had hired him. She'd want details-like how they met, or why a gay man was hanging on his arm, or G.o.d forbid, why her boss was coming on to him. Once he got paid the five grand (he had insisted Olivia pay him in cash) he could pull Nancy aside and give her enough of an explanation to keep her from blurting out that they lived together.

Testifying before Congress was easier . . .

His eyes caught Nancy's car as it arrived at the hotel's valet parking.

Two more couples . . . come on!

His heart beat faster as Nancy made her way down the sidewalk that led to the wharf, his girlfriend looking hot in a black low-cut c.o.c.ktail dress and matching pumps. He ducked his head while a crewman verified Jacob and Cyril's names on the guest list and a police officer inspected the interior of the suitcase carrying the Lisa Simpson dummy.

"They're okay."

"All right, gentlemen, you can board. Have a good evening."

Jacob darted up a short gangway to the mid-deck, leading Cyril onto the yacht, the air-conditioning helping to settle his frayed nerves.

The deck, walls, and laminated built-ins in the main salon were finished in cherry wood, the furniture consisting of a cream leather wraparound sofa and matching recliners situated before a 42-inch LCD television screen. A dozen guests mingled in the lavish surroundings.

Squeezing through the crowd, they headed forward, entering the dining room-its mirrored bulkhead reflecting a cherry wood oval dining table with seating for eight. Trays of hors d'oeuvres covered the table, attracting a crowd.

"There they are-my favorite man couple!"

Olivia swept in from the galley entrance, the millionairess dressed in a scarlet Tony Bowls evening gown, its deep V-cut neckline accentuating her bulging tan b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the tiered draped skirt opening up in a side split that revealed her bare left leg and spiked high-heeled shoe.

She kissed Jacob full on the lips, and then turned her attention to Cyril. "I could scratch your eyes out for snagging this baby grizzly from me, but fair is fair. Be a dear and fetch us something to drink."

Cyril turned to Jacob. "Bourbon, darling?"

Jacob's eyes flashed a warning. "Ginger ale . . . dear."

"You two are adorable. Seven and seven for me, Cyril."

Jacob watched the gay man squeeze his way through the crowd to get outside to the bar. "Olivia, have you spoken to Ruby? I dropped her off at the doctor's this morning and haven't heard a thing."

"She texted me earlier and said she was still waiting to get her test results. Don't worry about her; I'm sure she's fine. Before I forget, I have something I want you to wear tonight." Fis.h.i.+ng through her purse, she removed the dive watch and handed it to him. "Consider it a good luck charm."

"A dive watch? You know, I don't really dive. Wait . . . is there something wrong with the yacht? Do you think we could sink? Is that why you're giving me this? So I can find my way back to sh.o.r.e?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous when you suffer from extreme hydrophobia like I do. Sometimes I have to take a Dramamine just to take a shower."

"You're hysterical. Save it for the show."

"The show-Olivia, is there any way you'd let me do my stand-up while we're still docked? I'd be much more relaxed."

"Sorry, pet, but the cruise is the best part of the night-except for those lucky guests rocking the boat from their staterooms." She winked. "Go on, try it on."

Removing his old watch, Jacob secured the bulkier dive watch to his left wrist. "Feels kind of heavy."

"You'll get used to it."

"Drinks!" Cyril pushed his way through the crowd. He handed Olivia one of the two drinks in his right hand -- handing the ecstasy-laced soda in his left hand to Jacob. "A toast-to the wild evening ahead."

"I'll drink to that." Olivia clinked her gla.s.s.

Jacob gulped down the flat soda, glancing out the tinted window in time to see Nancy ascending a spiral staircase that led to the upper deck.

NANCY CLIMBED THE aluminum steps, seeking to avoid the mid-deck crowd. Occupying the open upper deck were sixty folding chairs, arranged in rows, facing a small stage situated beneath a banner: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRUMAN. She located the guest of honor seated alone in the bow, nursing a beer.

Nancy accepted a gla.s.s of champagne from a waitress and joined him. "How are you feeling?"

"Old." He looked up. "You? What are you doing here?"

"Your daughter invited me. Truman, I'm so sorry about what happened. I don't want your money, but I still want to help you get together with Carmella."

"She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. Me she hates."

"I could make her happy if she'd let me."

"Not everyone wants to be happy."She looked around. Night had taken the Intracoastal, tempering the South Florida heat. A few couples were standing by the starboard rail; otherwise the upper deck was deserted. "Where are all your friends?"

"Dead. Just like this party."

Thunder rattled the air as the yacht's powerful engines came to life. A horn sounded its warning.

Looking down, she saw a familiar figure hustle past security to make her way on-board. Ruby . . . What's she doing here?

The blades engaged, churning up the bottom and they lurched ahead, moving steadily through the Intracoastal Waterway, heading out to sea. Nancy inhaled the briny air, the wind tossing strands of blonde hair across her forehead. "Truman, are you cold?"

"I'm eighty-three. That old enough for you?"

"No, no-are you cold? Can I get you a sweater?"

"Nah. Maybe I'll get lucky and die of pneumonia."

"I need to warm up. Be back in a bit." She headed for the pilothouse, pus.h.i.+ng open the steel door of the s.h.i.+p's command center. The captain nodded from behind the wheel, his eyes lingering on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Excuse me, why are we headed out to sea?"

"Only way to get to Fort Lauderdale. Why don't you sit on my lap and I'll let you steer the boat."

"Why don't you sit on the throttle and go f.u.c.k yourself." She pushed past him, heading below.

JACOB FELT WOOZY and a bit warm. He found himself staring at the pretty lights, which seem to be dancing as they melded together in his vision.

Cyril touched his arm and it felt good. "Somebody need a hug?"

"Yeah."

Ruby pushed her way between them. Her purple strapless chiffon dress was topped by an ivory jacket, the fabric stretched tight over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Jacob stared at the swollen bouncing mounds of flesh, his heart racing. "Ruby Tuesday."

"Hi, Jacob. Thanks for earlier."