“Tell Emma to go easy on the throttle,” Anil warned. “My drone doesn’t like to be rattled.” He’d gone extra with the day-on-the-lake theme in colorful Bermuda shorts, rattan flip-flops, a pink shirt printed with pictures of toucans, and a big straw hat.
“That’s what I said when Cristian showed up in his bright blue Speedo and nothing else.” Emma joined us at the dock. “Paperwork is all done, and I’ve got the keys. Let’s get going.”
“You laugh, but who goes on a boat ride without swimwear?” Cristian posed for another Speedo selfie at the edge of the dock.
“Is that what it is?” Gage said. “I thought it was a hammock for mini bananas.”
“Look over there.” Jack pointed to something in the distance. I looked. He stole a muffin from the basket. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for a trick so lame.
“Would anyone else like a muffin?” I snatched the basket away, glaring at Jack.
“I’ll pass.” Anil held up his hands in a warding gesture. “I don’t eat carbs. I have to keep my body fat down so I can compete in the featherweight division once we get our money and I start my new MMA career. One muffin and I’ll get bumped up to welterweight. You should see those guys. Steamrollers. All of them. I have to stick to apples.”
“You and Cristian have a lot in common. He doesn’t eat carbs, either.”
“I’m gluten, dairy, and animal free,” Cristian said. “Also, no nightshades, brown rice, or cruciferous vegetables. I’m still working out my IBS triggers.”
“So you’re vegan?” I asked as we followed Emma down the dock.
“I eat fish.”
“Pescetarian?”
“I don’t eat farmed fish. They need to be free swimming. I also can’t give up bacon.”
“I hope to hell the pigs aren’t free swimming, too,” Gage muttered under his breath. “Must make for one hell of a dinner date.”
“Here we are.” Emma stopped in front of a sleek and stylish sport boat with a spaceship-like roof over an expansive cockpit. “What do you think? It’s a 2018 Luxury Sea Ray 31SLX with a top speed of 53 miles per hour. It’s so stable, you can walk around comfortably while cruising at high speeds. Usually, you need to pay for a captain, but I know the guy who runs this place, and I’ve got my boating license, so . . .”
“It’s supposed to be a pontoon boat,” I said. “Our cover is a bunch of a crazy kids taking it easy and kicking it back on the lake. A pontoon boat is perfect because it’s the kind of thing you park for the day so no one would give it a second glance. This boat is all about speed and attention.”
“And fun,” Emma said. “You gotta live a little. I took one look at the pontoon boat and threw up my breakfast. I couldn’t be seen in something like that. I have a rep to protect.”
“I agree.” Gage climbed aboard and stretched out on the white leather seating in the cockpit.
“It is pretty cool.” Anil gave an apologetic shrug before clambering into the boat. Cristian stretched out on an aft-facing lounger to take another selfie.
“I suppose you think it’s awesome, too.” I turned to Jack when we were all aboard, only to see him waving from the dock.
“Why aren’t you coming?” I shouted when he turned away. “We’re supposed to be a team.” We’d already lost Chloe to Olivia’s dance recital, and Rose and Chef Pierre weren’t really part of the crew.
“Not much of a team player, sweetheart.” Jack gave me a backward wave. “I’ll see you later.”
“Leave him,” Gage said when I grabbed the railing, fully intending to vault over it and chase Jack down. “He works best on his own.”
I spun around to face him, redirecting my anger against the impenetrable shield that was his expressionless face. “He’s the one who said I needed a crew.”
“You do. He doesn’t. If not for the baked goods, he would have left when you all arrived. You’re lucky he even showed up to check on you.”
“He can take the damn muffins and shove them up his—”
The boat lurched, throwing me off balance and saving me from an uncharacteristic burst of temper. I’d learned to hide my feelings long ago, to bury my anger and frustration. Six hours standing in the rain on the soccer pitch being elbowed in the head by overexcited parents while the twins played yet another game? Fine. A ten-hour car drive to Nikhil’s hockey tournament with nothing to do because someone had forgotten to load my Barbie backpack? Fine. Family movie night watching superheroes, gunfights, car chases, and endless violence because no one wanted to watch cartoons or Disney films with me? Fine. But for some reason, I couldn’t handle the thought of being abandoned by the muffin man.
“Take a seat,” Emma called out. “And get ready to ride. I feel a need for speed.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
?We put Cristian in the inner tube behind the boat when we finally dropped anchor because he was the only person in swimwear.
“Try to look like you’re having fun,” I called out. We were about five hundred yards offshore from the Angelinis’ beach. Gage was on the back deck with a fishing pole in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Anil was in the bow getting the drone ready.
“Just don’t drive too fast,” Cristian shouted. “Bouncing is bad for my IBS.”
“Go fast,” I told Emma. “He likes the speed.”
“Honey is ready to go,” Anil said, patting his drone. “Clear skies. Light breeze. It should be a good flight.”
“You named your drone Honey?” Emma snorted a laugh. “It looks more like a spider or one of those spaceships from that show with the aliens.”
“Shows that take place in space almost always have aliens.” Anil gave an indignant sniff. “They make the perfect antagonists—”
“Bo-ring.” Emma held up a dismissive hand. “I like real things that take place in real places with real people who aren’t green or puce or have tentacles for mouths or fifteen ears.”
“There are no space shows that have creatures with fifteen ears,” Anil said, starting up his drone. “I’ve seen them all.”
“And that’s why we’ll never be friends,” she told him.
I watched the drone lift straight up in the air. It was small but sturdy, holding steady when the wind picked up over the water.
“We can see everything on the screen.” Anil held up his controller. “We’re in their airspace now and officially breaking the law. We’re criminals.”
“Real property trespass isn’t a criminal offense unless we enter after being warned not to, or if we don’t leave after being asked,” I said. “Then it’s a misdemeanor punishable by up to six months in jail or a $1,500 fine. My lawyer explained it to me when I was at the police station after trying to rescue Chloe.”
“When you slit a man’s throat, stab him in the heart, or shoot him in the head, that’s a real criminal offense,” Gage offered. “You want to be a criminal, go big or go home.”