Page 8 of Say Uncle

He giggled again.Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes.

“I’m sure yours fits larger. I just happen to like mine like this.” He skipped off, and I sank heavily onto the bottom bunk, blowing out a tired breath. There was every chance I wouldn’t make it back from this trip. One more giggle from the Maltese, one more snide remark from the fucker who captained this boat, and I was going to jump overboard.

As it turned out, we were headed to Barbados. Nicky seemed excited, but then again, he seemed excited about everything. We were squeezed into the tiny galley kitchen, preparing mixed drinks and a platter of fruit and cheese for our guests. My head was beginning to pound as Nicky talked in circles about pinksand beaches, red coral, and some place called The Grotto. To be honest, I’d tuned him out a long time ago. His endless chatter set my teeth on edge.

“Wait until you check out the reefs. We’re snorkeling them. I can identify a lot more of the fish this time than I did last summer. I’ll point them out to you!”

Can’t fucking wait.

“…and the beaches, you’ve never seen sand so pink! But it’s not really sand, it’s tiny little crustaceous shells. Last year they grossed me out, but now they fascinate me, and I can’t wait to collect a sample! I want to check them out under a microscope.”

He continued on and on about his college courses, the terrible food in the dining hall on campus, and his favorite coffee shop, The Roasted Bean. Then I had to listen to a litany of facts about seahorses. Fuckingseahorses! It wasn’t even noon, and I was already exhausted, both mentally and physically.

“So, do you think we’ll see any?” His voice drowned out my inner thoughts and I realized he was asking me a question.

“See any what?”

“Seahorses!”

As I stared at him, with his overly bright grin and too-tight shirt that gave glimpses of his rail-thin body every time he stretched, I wondered was he really that ridiculously naïve and nerdy, or was it all just an act?

“I have nofucking clue. But if I see one, I’ll point it out to you.”

“Awesome!” He practically glowed with excitement. Over a seahorse? Jeez. “You’re not so bad, despite what Sam says about you.”

What the fuck?The kicker was, Nicky had no idea how backhanded that sounded. He acted like he’d paid me a genuine compliment.

I would give…well, a lot…to get the upper hand with Samson Barlowe. Just once.

The stars were out in full force. The boat dipped over the waves, creating a rocking feeling that was tying my stomach in knots. Cass had promised I would get used to it, but so far, my pasta dinner was threatening to make a reappearance. I focused on the night sky, hoping by using the moon as a focal point, I wouldn’t feel so nauseous.

Why was I the only one still working? Nicky was hanging out with Cass as he steered the boat, and Sam had his feet kicked up on a lounge chair, pretending to stare up at the sky as he surreptitiously watched me bust my ass.

“Don’t throw that rope like that,” he barked.

Fuck off. I dropped the coiled rope into the storagebox and grabbed for the life preserver, but dropped it when the boat dipped.Fuck this shit!I kicked the damn flotation device, wishing it was Sam’s ass instead.

“I said don’t throw that, Mattie. And you can cut the fucking attitude.”

Motherfucking micromanager. “Don’t call me Mattie. It’s Matt or Matteo.”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. It’s my boat,” he challenged.

“Mattie is a toddler’s nickname. I’m not fucking four years old!”

“Then quit acting like it.”

“I hate you,” I seethed, nostrils flaring.

He chuckled like he found me amusing, which ignited my temper to volcanic levels. “Whatever gets you through the day, Mattie-boy.”

Cass and Nicky’s laughter floated down from the flybridge, carried on the wind, and further poking the angry beast inside me. I slammed the lid closed, glaring at the pair.

“I guess it pays to be a good boy.”

Sam followed my gaze. “Maybe you should try it sometime?” I snorted.No thanks.“Would it kill you?”

“Yeah, it just might.”

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