Page 9 of A Shore Fling
“Turning a boat isn’t the same as turning a car. The response time is slower, and there’s no brake to stop if you overdo it. You live in New York City. You’re familiar with winter driving and how a car slides on ice. There’s no way to stop the momentum once it starts.”
“So, basically, I’m driving an unresponsive vehicle in a new-to-me area. What could go wrong?”
David pats my arm. “You’ll be fine. I have confidence in you.”
I’m glad someone does.Fuck my doubts.I’m a grown woman and a CFO for a billion-dollar corporation. Driving a boat should be easy compared to working with my dad and Jonathon.
“Okay. I think I can do this.”
“Start her up. Let’s hear this baby purr.” He says “purr” like he’s gargling, making it difficult to take him seriously.
I lower onto the seat and turn the key. The engine comes alive with a roar and then immediately settles into a low hum. “What’s next?”
“Once I’m back on the dock, you’re going to ease the throttle forward, gently. Keep hold of the wheel and steer straight out. You’re still in a no-wake zone here, so keep it under five knots.”
“I don’t know what five knots feels like,” I quickly say.
“It’s uncomfortably slow.”
“That sounds perfect to me.” Maybe I’ll five-knots my way to the house.
“Keep in mind, if you’re leaving a trail of white water behind you, you’re going too fast, so ease off the throttle. Once you’re out of the harbor, you can take it up to ten or twelve knots. That’s probably a good speed for a new driver.” He steps onto the dock.
“You’re leaving me?” I ask, panicking.
He gives me a reassuring smile as he unties the ropes. “You’ve got this. Now, get going.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.
My tote bag is still slung over my shoulder and is in my way, so I hang it over the throttle before I ease the lever forward. The boat responds, creeping from the slip. “I’m doing it,” I shout.
“You’re doing great. Watch out for the pilings as you pull away.”
I reflexively jerk the wheel, suddenly understanding what he meant about it being similar to a car sliding on ice. The boat angles sideways, and I turn the wheel in the opposite direction, trying to straighten out the bow.
“Avoid herky-jerky movements and you should be fine.”
I focus on guiding the boat safely away from the pier, and once I’m in the clear, I sigh with relief.
“See you later, Nina,” David calls out.
“Bye,” I shout back, not daring to take my hands from the throttle or the steering wheel. Once I’m no longer in the vicinity of the harbor, I ease the throttle forward a bit, and the boat picks up a little more speed. I laugh at the tiny thrill it evokes in me. I’ve never been a daredevil, but this could be the day that changes.
The sun beats down on me, making me wish I had grabbed a hat or sunglasses from my bags. The smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp, salty tang of the sea as I navigate the boat along.
Oh shit. I never asked him for directions to the house. The rental agency said it’s a quick ride by boat, but what does that mean? Five minutes? Ten? I’ll have to pay attention to any markers I see. Turning my head, I notice I’ve barely made any progress, the dock still in sight. I push the throttle forward again, and the bow lifts slightly as the boat picks up speed, but then it settles into a smooth motion as it glides across the water.
“Whoohoo!” I shout as the wind whips my hair back. Feeling freer than I have in years, I lose track of time and forget to pay attention to my whereabouts. By the time I realize my error, there are no houses visible and no other boats around. However, I do see a small island coming up. If I can idle near that, I can grab my phone from my bag and make a phone call.
Even though I pulled back on the throttle, I didn’t count on the force of the boat’s momentum or the strength of the current, which are propelling the bow directly toward the island. I hear the exact moment the bottom scrapes along the rocky shoreline, and it suddenly comes to an abrupt stop. After a few clunky gasps, the motor makes a choking sound. I quickly turn the key and pray it’s not ruined.
Oh my God. I’ve run the boat aground and fucked up the motor.Dollar signs flash in front of my eyes, followed by the thought of having to live this humiliation down. At least thereare no witnesses. But that also means there’s no one to help me out of this situation.
I grab my tote bag, rifling through it for my phone. Once I turn it on, I search for a signal, and of course, I can’t find one. I pull up my sister’s number and try to call her, but it doesn’t go through.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My head falls back, and I groan. What if no one finds me, or I’m burned to a crisp before they do? Sunscreen is on my list of items to buy here. I don’t use it at home. Who needs sunscreen when they work from sunrise until sunset?
Dammit. I’ll have to head ashore and find a shady spot to wait out this disastrous situation. I tuck my phone inside my bra and then remove the life jacket. I grab my sunglasses and beach hat, putting them both on. Climbing onto the back of the boat, I lower myself to the swim deck and drop into the cold waist-high water.
