Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (16 page)

Chapter
17

Welcome to the Crazy Cruise . . .

By the time they sat down to dinner that evening, Jake concluded that this was one hell of a looney-bird party Frank was hosting on his boat.

Ronnie was still so pissed that she wouldn’t speak to him. He really would have liked to check her out some more in that sperm-chasing suit, but she’d put a T-shirt over it, probably due to his unfortunate observation. He still couldn’t get over the fact that his unflamboyant wife—or ex-wife, if you want to be picky—would have bought a shiny gold, revealing suit like that. She must have turned a leaf, or something. A gold leaf, he joked with himself.
Yep, I fit right in here with the looney birds.

He tried to decide whether her new leaf was good or bad.
I like it,
he concluded. But then he recalled the way Peachey and Famosa had been ogling her earlier when she bent over to pick up the Starbucks coffee, which Tony had placed on a low deck table.
I sure didn’t like it then.

On the other hand, the T-shirt she’d put on was from a 1998 Sting concert. He’d given it to her. For some reason, that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Like a looney bird?

He wanted to ask her how her grandmother was taking her association with Frank, how Frank had talked her into participating in the venture, why she was no longer popping Peptos, and, most of all, if she still loved him. All these questions would have to wait till the smoke stopped coming out her ears.

It had been late afternoon by the time they’d gotten here today. Now, after another unsuccessful dive, the last one of the day, they sat down to dinner. Famosa and Peachey beat him to bench seats on either side of Ronnie in the galley kitchen. He sat opposite her, next to LeDeux, who was assigned to be his bunkmate.
Oh, joy! Not!
Jake had already announced that he would sleep alone up on deck. Maybe Ronnie would sneak up and join him.
Delusional, man, delusional!

Frank was on his other side, beaming like an idiot. You’d think he would be upset about all the unsuccessful dives so far, but, no, he was happy as a lark because Jake had finally arrived. Frank claimed that Jake would bring them good luck, guaranteed.

To which Ronnie had snickered.

Tante Lulu’s arrival was also a good omen, in the world according to Frank, because of her “in” with St. Jude. That remained to be seen, although John had already regaled them with stories of her famous St. Jude “miracles.”

The air conditioner and high-velocity fan made the entire below-deck area cool and pleasant, something it apparently hadn’t been before their arrival. He wondered how Tony had known to bring them, but then recalled seeing him using his satellite phone.

Everyone was tired after the day of diving, so there was a companionable silence at first. Steve and Tony, ever the loners, chose to stay up on deck and eat some Italian submarines that Tony had brought from a favorite delicatessen.

Then, out of the quiet, Ronnie flashed him a glower and said, “For your information, they’re not sperm. They’re commas.”

Every head in the room swiveled to gawk at her. He had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.
Come on, baby, rise to my bait. I’d rather have you screaming at me than ignoring me.
“I’m no fashion expert . . . ,” he began.

She guffawed at that.

Someone ought to tell her that guffawing from a woman was not attractive. Maybe he would tell her, later. For now, he resumed his statement. “I’m no fashion expert, but I find it hard to believe that someone would put commas chasing commas on any clothing.”

“It’s the trademark of that new designer Daphne.” Ronnie’s face was pink with embarrassment as she realized she’d stepped into a hole of his making.

“Come on, sweetie. That is a streeeetch.” He knew he shouldn’t push the teasing, but, dammit, it annoyed the hell out of him to see her bracketed by those two homely studs.
Homely, I wish.

“It’s like little alligators on golf shirts.” Brenda was showing her friendship colors, coming to Ronnie’s defense. “And NASCAR is the worst. They’ve got so many company emblems on them, it’s a wonder they can even walk.”

“I never could understand how some wimmen spend hundreds of dollars fer handbags with someone else’s name on ’em. ’Specially when you kin buy practically the same thing at Wal-Mart fer twenty bucks.” That was good ol’ Tante Lulu’s opinion, bless her down-to-earth soul.

Flossie’s face lit up like lights on a Las Vegas strip. Apparently, this was a subject close to her heart. “I like to go on eBay and buy designer handbags, like Gucci or Coach, and they’re only a hundred dollars there.”

“eBay again!” Frank exploded. “A hundred dollars!”

Flossie gave him a glare that could cut concrete. “Do. Not. Tell. Me. What. I. Can. Do. With. My. Own. Money.” Flossie’s tone was pure ice, a bit of an overreaction to Frank’s remarks, in Jake’s opinion.

Ah! The money issue.
Jake had forgotten that Frank’s financial problems were the reason Ronnie was even here. Flossie must be grating under their tightened circumstances.

Everyone quieted under the strain of Frank and Flossie’s open quarrel.

But then the talking picked up again as Tante Lulu helped Brenda put some large bowls on the table—the jambalaya, which the old lady had brought in a cooler all the way from Louisiana; some beaten biscuits; okra—yeech!—and a green salad. The odd thing was, though, when Brenda sat down, there were two bowls, one of sauerkraut and one of baked beans, in front of her.

Brenda glanced at him, saw his question, and said, “I’m on a diet. I need to lose twenty pounds this month.”

“Whoo-boy, let me tell you about her diet . . . ,” Frank began with a snort of laughter.

Brenda swatted Frank on the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “Say it again and you are dead meat.”

Everyone laughed. Jake figured it must be some private joke.

“I can’t believe Charmaine let you come back here, all by yourself,” LeDeux said to his great-aunt once she sat down.

“Hah! Charmaine ain’t my mother. I kin do whatever I want to, without my niece’s permission. Talk about!”

LeDeux gave her a suspicious look. “Does Charmaine know you’re here?”

“Mebbe she does, and mebbe she doesn’t.”

“Tante Lulu!”

“Oh, all right. I left a message on her answering machine . . . once I got here.”

“There’ll be hell to pay,” LeDeux remarked to no one in particular.

Tante Lulu ignored his comment and asked, “What you been up to, Tee-John?”

LeDeux brightened. “I have a date with Brenda. We’re going to her high school reunion. She wants to make her ex-husband jealous.”

The old lady just nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Is that why yer eatin’ sauerkraut and beans?”

“Yes, I only have twenty-seven days to lose twenty pounds, and, merciful heavens, that jambalaya smells divine.”

Tante Lulu continued to nod. “Charmaine was on that diet one time, but had to stop ’cause it gave her too much gas.”

“Hah! How come she’s allowed to say it and I’m not?” Frank asked.

“She didn’t say it quite the way you did, dear.” Flossie patted Frank’s hand.

“Anyhow, I gots some herbs that can melt the fat away,” Tante Lulu said. “Put it in yer tea in the morning and before you know it, pfffft!”

The ears of each woman in the room perked up at that.

“Maybe she’ll get some for you,” Frank told Flossie.

Even though Flossie had appeared interested in the herb, she bristled at his mentioning it. “You think I’m fat,” she wailed.

“Huh?” Frank said.

“You think I’m fat and ugly and I hate you.” With that, Flossie tossed her napkin on the table, stood, and ran out of the room.

Instead of rushing after her, Frank told the rest of them, “It’s the menopause . . . more like mental-pause. She’s got a split personality these days. Sometimes she reminds me of Bette Davis in
What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
”

Good thing Flossie had left. She probably would have choked Frank if she heard him talking about her like that.

“I don’t suppose you brought some of those herbs with you,” Brenda said to Tante Lulu.

“Sure did. I allus carry herbs with me, jist in case. Those people at the airport were mighty testy about it, too.”

“Tante Lulu is a famous
traiteur,
” LeDeux explained. “That’s a healer. Lots of people in the bayou come to her before going to a doctor.”

“Did she ever give you a hope chest?” Jake asked LeDeux.
Frank’s foot-in-mouth disease must be contagious. Note to self: shut up!

Ronnie grinned at his discomfort.

“Yeah, but we have a pact to fill it slooooowly. I’m not gonna be ready for marriage for a spell.” LeDeux elbowed Jake under Tante Lulu’s radar as if they were good buddies. “Did she give you one, too?”

“No, but I’m gonna. That boy needs a hope chest to get his love life back on track.” Tante Lulu looked directly at Ronnie when she said that.

Ronnie’s face went white. “Whaaat?”

“Usually I gives my family hope chests when I think they’s ready for the thunderbolt to hit, even the men.”

Way to go, lady!

“The thunderbolt of love,” LeDeux interpreted for her.

I love it! Batten down your hatches, sweetheart. My thunderbolt is a comin’.

“But it’s clear as a bayou sky that you two already been hit by the thunderbolt so many times it’s a wonder you ain’t got ’lectricity comin’ out yer ears.”

Jake grinned.
There is that smoke.

Peachey and Famosa frowned.

Ronnie made a harrumphing sound, just like her grandmother did sometimes, usually at him, and said, “That was about as clear as a Starbucks cappuccino.”

“You mus’ be thick or sumpin’, bless yer heart. Girl, you look at this boy like he’s some kinda eye candy.”

“I do not!”

Jake continued to grin.
I am starting to love the old bat.

“And you,” the old bat said, pointing her finger at him.

Uh-oh!

“You look at her like she’s a cone of sweet praline ice cream you wanna lick up one side and down the other till she melts.”

Yep! I couldn’ta said it better myself.
Jake winked at Ronnie, whose jaw had dropped practically down to Sting’s forehead.

“Speaking of ice cream,” Frank said. Ronnie’s grandfather always had been an ice cream aficionado. Apparently, that at least hadn’t changed.

While everyone, except Brenda, sat eating various flavors of ice cream, Jake told Frank, “I have an idea how you might perfect your computer mapping.”

“Really?” Frank put his spoon down and waited for his explanation.

“I brought my laptop with me. I had a three-hour layover in Chicago. While I sat in the airport lounge, I thought of a few new programs that might allow me to overlay your grid with the magnetometer and sonar readings.”

“Do tell,” Famosa remarked sarcastically.

Condescending snooty prick college professor! I’ll show him.
“I hit a WAP and downloaded fresh GODAR sets to overlay the GrADS. So I’m thinking if we can collect some virtual biological sludge for the GCMS, we might just be able to sniff out the wreck site. I downloaded some software, and, you know, it isn’t intended for this purpose, but it just might work.”

“Huh?” Mr. Snooty Prick Professor looked like he’d been poleaxed.

Everyone else just stared at him as if he’d sprouted three heads. Jake loved computers. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone shared his passion, or expertise. Other times, like now, he took immature delight in deliberately putting an asshole in his place.

“Repeat that in normal language,” Ronnie advised him with a small smile.

How many times has she said that to me in the past?
Starting over, he explained, “I used a wireless access point and downloaded the latest data from the Global Oceanographic Data Archaeology and Rescue project to match up with the Grid Analysis and Display System. Once your divers are down there, it’s possible to take some samples near the ocean floor and run them through the gas chromatograph mass spectrometer, where any differentiation in microscopic sea critters and their chemistry that doesn’t match up with the climatological conditions could suggest the presence of the wreck, which might not have been noticed before.”

“Is he speaking some foreign language?” Tante Lulu asked Flossie.

“Geekspeak.” Ronnie sort of smiled again, which he took as a good sign.

“Whatever he said, it sounds great.” Turning to the others, Frank added, “Jake is a computer genius.”

Peachey and Famosa didn’t appear all that impressed, and Ronnie, no longer smiling, still put him in the same category as, oh, let’s say, a snake’s belly button. Tante Lulu was more interested in the long red fingernails sported by Flossie, who had slipped back into her seat a few moments ago, oblivious to the fact that she’d just thrown a hissy fit.

“By the by, I have some herbs that’ll help yer condition,” Tante Lulu mentioned.

“Condition?” Flossie accused Frank.

He pretended innocence.

“Oh, doan go gettin’ yer knickers in a twist.” Tante Lulu patted Flossie on the shoulder.

“Back to that plan of yours, Jake.” Frank wisely changed the talk away from menopause. “How ’bout we go up into the wheelhouse where the computers are. Ronnie can show you what we’ve done so far, and you can explain your ideas to her.”

“Whoa! Why do I have to be involved?” his contrary ex-wife protested. “Now that Jake is here, I’m no longer needed to handle the computers. In fact, Steve, or Tony, can take me back to Barnegat.”

Jake felt a momentary panic that she would leave before he had a chance to make his moves. Not that he had any specific moves. But he was planning on getting some.

“You’re needed, all right, missie,” Frank told his granddaughter. “Two sets of eyes are better than one when it comes to treasure hunting. Can’t tell you how many times one diver overlooks something another diver sees right off the spot.”

God bless Frank’s badass version of Cupid!

Ronnie probably would have resisted some more, except Tante Lulu asked, “Where’m I gonna sleep? It’s past my bedtime.”