Pulling Strings

Chapter 1-2

When I’d bought my own plane, I had to have a pilot and co-pilot on retainer, and then when I bought the yacht, I needed three others: a captain, a cook, and a first mate. I could have used Judith on the yacht but the month I was way was the only vacation she and Susan had. It seemed expensive but by that time, I also owned rental properties across the country.

I’d fallen into some penny-stocks that seemed risky at first but turned into the best investment of my life. When you buy ten thousand shares of a new company at forty cents apiece, that three years later has proven so valuable that the company is bought out for two billion…well, that’s one of the good sides of the stock market. I turned four thousand into fifteen million in just a few years. You primarily have to watch what you’re doing.

* * * *

Chris and I walked down the wharf to my yacht.

“We missed you last year,” Captain Sherman Pollack greeted us as we walked up the gangplank. Sherman was a barrel-chested man with thick dark hair. He was probably in his mid- to late-forties, just a few years older than me.

“I flew down there for a week,” I told him, “but it was boring.”

“It wasn’t the same for us, either. We get used to spending time in St. Lucia every year,” he smiled.

“Chris was on tour and I was alone again,” I explained.

“On tour?” Sherman Pollock asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

“Yes,” I bragged. “My Chris was touring as guest soloist with several orchestras. She was very successful.”

Sherman looked at me. “Well, congratulations, Ms. Chris. I didn’t know you were a musician.”

“I play cello.” She smiled.

“Yes,” I added quickly. “Haven’t you seen her ads for Black Pearl Perfume? They were in all the magazines and all over the television.”

Sherman looked at her strangely. “Black Pearl Perfume? My wife and daughter made me buy that for them last Christmas. That’s all my daughter wanted.” Then he stopped, thoughtfully. “She showed me some ads in magazines so I’d remember what she wanted. That was you, Ms. Chris?”

Chris looked embarrassed. I smiled and nodded. “I know,” I said, squeezing her arm. “I almost didn’t recognize her either.”

He looked at his shoes shamefully. “Well, I must admit,” he said, softly, “it wasn’t just your face I was looking at.”

“Yes, beautiful, isn’t she?”

We all chuckled. Yes. That had been the main disadvantage of doing the ads: Chris had become a s*x symbol. She’d never even thought of herself as pretty before then.

That was one of the things that had happened in St. Lucia when we were there two years ago. Chris seemed to have met all the right people to help her career.

“Wait until I tell my daughter I know you. She’ll hound me to work this cruise next year.”

“Maybe I can find something in St. Lucia that I can autograph for her,” Chris offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Ms. Chris,” Sherman said, shaking his head.

“It’s not a problem at all,” she assured him. “I’ve been told to court my audiences.”

“You don’t have to court her. She’s already in love with you, and she swooned when she saw all those pictures of you with Wilson Potter. She has pictures of both of you all over her room. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I knew better. I’ve seen him and Mr. Foster around this island. They don’t date women, do they?”

Chris laughed. “Just us, when it’s going to be in the media.”

I laughed, too. “Wil and Chris do make a handsome couple, don’t they?”

“They sure do. But then, you two make a beautiful couple, too.”

I laughed loudly. “You realize that the common denominator is Chris, don’t you? I think Wilson and I pale next to her.”

Chris frowned. “We’re not going to start this trip like this, are we?”

“I thought you finally realized that you’re beautiful.”

“But we don’t have to tell everyone.”

Sherman raised an eyebrow. “I think everyone already knows, Ms. Chris. My daughter thinks you’re even more beautiful than Mister Potter.”

Chris chuckled. “Tell her,” she smiled, “that my relationship with Wilson is only as a friend.”

Sherman chuckled and winked at me.

Wilson Potter was television’s hottest heartthrob, who looked even finer in person. His popularity had soared when he signed to do the TV series, a police show, Case’s Cases, four years ago. Everyone was saying that it was his good looks that made the show a success. The production company had gone out of their way to keep him closeted. He had been linked to several young starlets until Chris met him. When they’d been photographed by paparazzi when they danced together at a restaurant here on St. Lucia, and were seen together at other places around the island, her picture immediately became linked with his. Chris’s mother had seen the picture in the tabloid and immediately assumed that she’d gotten over her “thing” about women and had finally met a man to settle down with. Chris had corrected her at first but finally let her believe that because it was easier than an argument.

“Does your daughter like classical music?” Chris asked. “I can autograph a copy of my CD for her.”

“I don’t really know, but if it’s yours and you autograph it, she’ll probably listen to it 24/7.”

Then we heard another voice from inside the cabin.

“Ms. Car! Ms. Chris! I thought I heard you out here.” An older man in white jeans and a white T-shirt came out on deck. “I’m so glad to see you. I missed you last year.” It was Oscar, the ship’s cook. He was a fabulous man who loved to vex me but was an awesome chef. We projected a love-hate relationship, but I adored the man.

“Hey, Oscar. I missed you, too,” I said as I hugged him. Then I stepped back, looked down, and patted his belly. He seemed to have put on a few pounds in the last couple years. “It looks like you’ve been eating your own cooking.”

“Had to.” He smiled. “I finally wanted to see what everyone was raving about!”

I hugged him and asked, “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Ms. Car!” he frowned at me. “You should know by now. What’s it been? Seven, eight years? You both know the first meal is always a secret. If I told you what it was…”

“…It wouldn’t be a surprise,” Chris and I said in unison, laughing as we finished his sentence. That was one of Oscar’s standard declarations.

Oscar threw his head back. “You’re learning! Dinner will be at 7:30. Go and put you clothes up before then.”

“Oscar!” I exclaimed. “Are you’re telling me what to do, again?”

“Someone has to. D’ya have a problem with that?” he retorted as he winked at Chris. Then he walked back toward the galley, chuckling.

“One day, you’ll go too far, Oscar,” I called after him.

“And how far is that?” was his answer.

Oscar always started the trip by telling me to go unpack and keeping the first dinner a secret. Of course, he only told me to do what I’d already decided to do and the meal was always something I loved, cooked perfectly. I’m not sure why I take it, but he’s a lovable old codger and a fabulous cook. I guess I’d put up with anything if I didn’t have to spend time in the kitchen.

“Old Geezer,” I yelled after him.

“Sticks and stones…!” he yelled back. We all laughed loudly. Then, I turned back to Sherman.

“Who’s first mate this time?” I asked.

“New kid. Going to school to be a marine biologist,” Sherman smiled. “He was excited to work here. Real bright. Name’s Brian. Did a cruise with him last fall.”

“Can’t wait to meet him,” I smiled. “What’s the schedule today?”

“If we leave just after dinner, we’ll get there Saturday afternoon. That okay with you?”

I nodded. “Fine with me. We’ll be below unpacking.”

“Okay. The boys put all your bags in your stateroom.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, as I led the way down the narrow, steep stairs.

* * * *

Most people would think that owning a yacht is very extravagant, but when you look at the options, you see that it pays for itself. Airfare for two, plus a hotel suite for five weeks (big enough to be able to entertain friends), plus all the food, and incidentals would cost at least seventy-five to a hundred thousand dollars, and add first class airfare, and it’s even more. The wages for three people, the food, gasoline for the yacht and incidentals were a lot less than that. Just the price of hiring taxis to get us around the harbor, was a lot more expensive than the little skiff that went with the yacht, even with the gas to propel it.

This yacht sleeps six passengers and three crew. Two small rooms, each with a single bunk were below toward the front of the yacht and a larger room at the very bow had a queen-sized bed. There were three bunks aft near the engines for the crew.

The center of the yacht held a large stateroom. It had dark ash, built-in closets and cabinets, and a queen-sized bed over a lift-and-store frame. It was all incredibly luxurious and just as beautiful as it was when I bought it, eight years ago. You could smell a hint of the wonderful oils and lotions that I had in the bathroom.

“Just as lush as two years ago,” Chris said and smiled at me. “I remember it like the back of my hand.”

“We did spend a lot of time in here…but not nearly enough.” I leered at her.

“Are you trying for a world record?”

“Do you have a score-book somewhere?” I asked.

“I don’t need one. We’ve already broken every record anyone could possibly keep.”

“Then we’ll just have to set the standard higher.”

Chris shook her head. “Honey,” she said, “if you set it any higher, we won’t get to see anything on the island.”

I smiled a massive smile. “And since you’ve moved in with me, we do that all the time, anyway. Sweetheart, you have more libido than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“So? I’ll never get enough of you,” she told me.

“You tell me that every day.”

“Then it must be true. For a forty-two-year-old woman, you’re still hotter than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Are you sure you’re not looking in a mirror?”

Chris shook her head. “Can’t be me. I’m only thirty-three.”

“And able to make a forty-two-year-old woman’s blood boil.”

Chris had a slim figure. Her longish head of dark brown hair was always perfect and her glowing brown eyes seemed to burn through my brain. In reality, she is two inches taller than I am, but to me, she’s larger than life.

I grinned at her. Then I took her into my arms and kissed her as I backed her toward the bed. Yes, we had time for one round before Oscar called us for dinner.

* * * *

Dinner that evening was spectacular. Oscar had had fresh jumbo shrimp shipped in and had made the most wonderful and tasty, grilled, lime shrimp dinner I’d ever tasted. There was ginger rice, grilled vegetables, a green salad with mushrooms and capers, and fluffy yeast rolls with herb butter. Of course, he’d also chosen the perfect wine to go with it.

“Another fabulous meal, Oscar,” I complimented him as I downed the last of the wine in my glass.

“It sure was,” Chris added.

Oscar laughed. “It’s always a joy cooking for you ladies. Now, Ms. Chris…do you still like chocolate?”

“Of course, Oscar,” she exclaimed. Why would he think she didn’t?