High Seas Drifter by Brian David Bruns

Author:Brian David Bruns [Bruns, Brian David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Travel, vacation, Mediterranean, Biography, cruise ships
ISBN: 9780985663568
Amazon: 0985663561
Goodreads: 20764541
Publisher: World Waters
Published: 2014-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

3

Walking up the incline towards the train depot in Monte Carlo, I turned back to look down at the Wind Surf. She was a half circle of harbor away. Compared to the luxury yachts filling the smooth waters row upon row upon row, the world's largest sailing vessel looked huge. But she wasn't. My stomach roiled at the recollection of first setting foot upon her. It had roiled then, too.

'Where's the handover documentation?' I had asked the departing—nay, fleeing—auctioneer. He had replied, 'I didn't do any. Doesn't matter. No employees. No auctions. No sales. Ever. Wait'll you hear about the auctioneer before me'—meaning blind old Gertie—'It'll blow your god damn mind.'

Thus, the call I made telling Bianca to not come aboard with me—my first dreaded ‘no’. We'd hardly spoken since. Yet we did see each other once. Making it happen had been a chore of the highest calibre. Wind Surf had been docked in Taormina. Bianca's ship had also been docked on the same, eastern shore of Sicily. The distance between the two cities was not so great from an American perspective—just over fifty kilometers—but Sicilian highways were not the stuff of the Eisenhower Interstate System. Unfortunately I had to request Cosmina's assistance to make it happen.

"So you want me to book a hotel in Messina," Cosmina said with a wry smile.

"Just transportation," I had said. This left Cosmina utterly confused.

"Don't you want her back?"

"Things are a little more complicated than that," I said. "We didn't really end it, per se."

"So I'll get you a room."

"I'm not going for a quick romp in the sack," I said. "We need to talk."

"Talk," she repeated flatly. "About limestone? You talk afterwards!"

When Surf passed by Messina that morning—at 8 o'clock sharp, I remember—Carnival Liberty was already easing into port. I wanted to run to the bridge and scream, 'Stop the ship!' I couldn't help it. Whenever Bianca was near, I completely lost my head. Fortunately, the taxi Cosmina procured got me there in record time. That was not entirely a good thing, though. He drove over 150 kilometers an hour the entire way, swinging in and out of traffic, invariably on the wrong side of the cliff-hugging so-called highway. I thought I was going to die. But to Messina I asked, and at Messina I was. The crew of Liberty was just beginning to tackle the mooring lines. They moved like snails. Apparently Italians take their sweet time on everything but driving. After waiting for an eternity, I had to wait even longer: the passengers disembarked first. The ship disgorged thousands upon thousands of leisurely, vacationing passengers.

After nearly an hour—an hour that chewed deeply into the five we had available—Bianca finally crossed the gangway. As always, she exuded a sexy self-confidence. Just the sight of her made me tingle with expectation—it was ever chemical between us. She wore a body hugging purple outfit with a criminally short skirt. She was well aware that her legs were her best feature and flaunted them accordingly.

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