5 Days In Hell

Chapter 2: Jaime

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

The Indian Ocean stretched all around us in all directions. The sun bore down on both the Hot Rod Hell  (my yacht) and the sea, sending light, into our eyes. I stood at the bow of the boat, carefully taking the occasional glance at my fellow passengers, to make sure they weren't looking. I reached into my shirt's breast pocket and pulled out my Zippo lighter. I then put my hand in my short's pockets and yanked out the only thing that would save my day: cannabis. I lit up the thin roll of paper and put one end between my lips. I inhaled that sweet scent and breathed it out through my nose. Thank God, I was in international waters, or something like that. I wouldn't be able to bear Anya's sermons if she saw me. I tried to make an imitation in my head. Oh Jaime, why? You know what that stuff does to you.

"Oh, I certainly know what it does. It blocks out the noise of all your fucking sermons,"

"Whose fucking sermons?" 

I dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath my foot. I turned around on the balls of my feet, and Christian stood in  front of me.

"Oh, no one. Just some stupid girl I dated for a while,"

"Someone I know?"

"Most probably. What you want?"

"I just came to... Were you smoking just now?"

"No! What the hell makes you think that?"

"You've got a lighter in one hand and I can smell it on you, Jaime,"

"Well, like I said, I'm not smoking?"

He half-raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"Look, no offense, but you're not exactly the most intellectual person on this boat, okay? I wasn't smoking, you're stupid enough to think I would, end of story. Anyway, this is my boat, so if you have a fucking problem with me if I was smoking, Mauritius is just a few miles south. I'm sure you could swim back. What you want?"

Christian looked taken aback. Served him right. Who the hell did the son of a bitch think he was? I'd only started inviting him to clubs about a year ago. Poking his nose in someone else's business. Despite my little lashing out, he didn't give a remark.

"Cook just brought up lunch,"

"'Kay. I'll be there in a second,"

He walked back to the others without a second glance. Bloody loser. To think I'd let him come aboard 'cause he was Daryl's brother. I stomped out the rest of the cigarette and pocketed the lighter. Beneath the tarp on the other side of the boat, Ezra and Tara were too busy playing beer pong (with more cups than necessary), Ezra was losing, but didn't seem to mind, Anya and Viola were playing gin, and the Grady brothers (Daryl and Christian) were now trying to squeeze John between them, whilst Rachel caught every one of them on her camcorder.

"Rachel, please, I don't think anyone's gonna be interested in seeing two lunatics swallow  playing beer pong and nearly kill themselves, two brothers squeezing a midget between them, and three girls playing gin,"

"Jesus, who put the eel in your board shorts?"

Daryl and Ezra started snickering. I didn't find any of that funny. 

"Hahaha. Where's the food? I'm hungry?"

Three trays were laid out as soon as I said those words. One had chargrilled oysters, another had a variety of vegetables you'd find with Peking Duck, and the final tray had one big-ass lobster.

"Fruit de mer. Always so fucking ugly,"

"Are you okay, bro?" John asked.

Catching the look full of contempt Christian threw at me, I simply shook my head and opened a can of Phoenix beer. All of a sudden, Tara began sniffing.

"What's that smell?"

My insides lurched.

"What smell?"

"It smells like... Drugs,"

"How do you know what drugs smell like?"

"Remember, when we got kicked out of Insomnia, that bouncer was high. I never forgot that smell,"

"Well, as far as I know, no one's been having drugs on my boat. Probably just the beer you been drinking,"

"I only had one glass," she said, with a hell of a grin.

I sighed.

"I'm gonna enjoy this trip," I thought to myself, guzzling down the beer.

                                                                                                      *

The sea was raging outside. My room was very cozy: an abstract painting stood over a desk with a mirror, the bathroom door was mahogany, the tub was pure marble, the bed-sheet and covers were linen. I couldn't hear anyone in the corridor moving about, so I thought that this was my chance. I strode to the desk and opened the drawer. A nice amount of film with shriveled green leaves inside it, and some cigarette paper. Sitting on the bed I managed to get a sufficient amount out of the film, and rolled it into the paper. Lighting it once again, I inhaled the smoke, played around with it for a while in my mouth, then exhaled through the nose. Cannabis was good. No argument there. I just prayed that dad would never find out. All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. Anya's voice was coming from the other side.

"Jaime, you in there?"

"Don't come in!"

"Excuse me?"

"Just gimme a minute! The room's in a bit of a mess!"

I opened my porthole and chucked the cigarette outside. On my bedside table, stood a can of air freshener. I sprayed it around me, and popped a mint-flavored chewing gum in my mouth. I then chucked the film and Zippo lighter beneath my quilt.

"All right. Come in,"

The door opened at a diagonal angle. Anya stood there, wearing a grey top and black tights.

"Is that what you wear when you sleep?" I asked, trying my best to throw her off the thought of anything unusual.

"It's a free world,"

"Whatever. What you want?"

"Well, Christian seemed a bit... moody, when he came back from calling you,"

"I don't follow,"

"Did you say anything to him, that, you know, could've turned his mood around?"

"Nothing that I know of. Anyway, he's a grown man. Others shouldn't have to come solve his problems for him. You know how I felt about bringing him aboard the boat in the first place,"

"Yeah, I'm fully aware of all the times he's bailed on us when we went out, but I think you should be a bit more-"

"Of a pushover. Yeah, sounds like a proper solution,"

Anya was beginning to move her head in a gesture of impatience.

"Look, I'll understand if you don't want to hang around with him for the rest of the trip, there's just no need to create a problem for Daryl, Jaime,"

"Yeah, I get it,"

"Well, goodnight,"

With that she slammed the door, and I heard her footsteps becoming more and more faint. I let my head fall back on the pillow and shut my eyes.

"Could this trip get any worse?" I thought to myself.

What I didn't know, is that it was about to get a whole lot worse.