Page 1 of Vows of a Mobster
Prologue
Shit, we are going to die.
I was fairly certain we’d not come back from this sailing trip alive. Ha! Sailing trip. It was more like a mission. One that would determine whether we lived or died in more ways than one.
The waves crashed against the sailboat, causing it to swing wildly to the left and then right, dangerously tilting over. I loved being on a boat but I was terrified of capsizing. It was a fear that always plagued me. Not to mention, I never sailed without having another experienced boatman onboard.
Right now, we were at the mercy of the violent, howling winds, rain, and the restless ocean. The seawater poured into the boat, the deck slick with it. I gripped the helm of the boat as hard as I could, my knuckles white and stiff. Nobody came out during storms like this; it was dangerous. It was stupid.
It was early October but the ocean air made it feel much colder than it was. The rain and splashing of the sea soaked me to the skin, my bones frozen. I desperately tried to ignore the cold, focusing on the sea and the dark night sky. This was not how I imagined my next sailing adventure to be. Even with the torrential downpour, we were lucky enough that some of the light from the full moon was able to guide us against the angry weather and sea. My father never let me sail out after dusk nor alone, so this was new territory for me.
I glanced at my best friend. The moment we’d cast off and hit the seas, seasickness hit her. She has been trying to hang in there, but I wasn’t sure how much more she could handle. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle it. Exhaustion was setting in, and each time I closed my eyes, it was the cold, dead eyes of the man lying on the cabin floor that appeared, haunting me.
We’d set off yesterday and have been sailing for over twenty-four hours. When we left the port, the weather was calm and the night sky clear. That changed in the first six hours of our unfortunate adventure.
“Do you think we are far enough?” I yelled over to her, the wind howling around us. She was drenched, holding on to the rail, trying to keep her balance.
“How far are we?” she yelled.
“About seventy miles off the coastline,” I tried to shout over the wind.
She nodded and I secured the sails to ensure we didn’t capsize. The last thing we needed was both of us drowning.
Holding on to the rails, I wobbled on my sea legs trying to get to her. It felt like it took forever to reach her, but it was mere minutes. My teeth chattered, my legs shook either from fear, cold, or exhaustion. I wasn’t sure which. Neither one of us planned on a sailing trip and we weren’t dressed for it. But then none of us could have planned for the shit that happened. I certainly never saw it coming.
“What now?” I asked in an escalated voice. It was hard to speak over the winds.
“It’s in the cabin,” she yelled back. She looked green, ready to puke again at any moment. “It’s strapped with weights. All we have to do is throw it overboard and it will sink to the bottom.”
I didn’t even want to know how she knew about the weights. I had learned more about my best friend in the last twenty-four hours than I had known in the past four years. I dreaded picking it up. It was heavy as shit, wrapped in the dirty white sheet.
I swallowed hard.It!We kept referring to him asit.Maybe it was our coping mechanism, disassociating the body from a human being.
“We can do it,” she muttered, although I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince me or herself.
We held on wherever we could as we made our way to the cabin, one step at the time. The sailboat moved with the waves, making it hard to stay upright.
“Almost there,” I gritted through my teeth. My bones were freezing and neither one of us would be able to take much more of this. Just as I thought that, she lost her footing, her hands reaching for something to grab. I quickly reached out, grabbing her hand tightly.
“Don’t let go,” I shouted as I used the last of my strength to pull her up, my muscles complaining. All the years of ballet dancing had strengthened my body and muscles, but at this moment, they screamed in pain and quivered with exhaustion. “I’ve got you. Grab the rail,” I shouted. She crawled up and reached the rail next to me.
Our eyes met. I was sure mine reflected the same emotion as hers… terror. Honest to God terror that we’d die out here.
“Go in first,” I told her. I had never been at sea during a vicious storm like this, but I had more experience with sea legs than my best friend.
She nodded and went ahead, struggling to make her way although we were just a few feet away from the cabin door. As I watched her, my grip on the rail tightened. It was hard holding on, the rails slick from the rain and sea water.
As soon as she got in, I followed, my Converse slipping on the smooth surface of the deck.
I wanted to curl into a ball and cry till everything got better. The only thing pushing me to go on was the knowledge that I was needed. I couldn’t give up now. A small sob escaped my lips, or maybe it was the wind crying along with me. I wasn’t sure. Water streamed down my cheeks, although I wasn’t sure whether it was rain or my tears.
A hand reached out, startling the shit out of me, and my eyes snapped up. My friend’s hand gripped my fingers tightly, almost painfully. The pain was welcome at this moment. It meant we were alive.
“Almost done,” my best friend whispered. She was still green but there was determination on her face.
I nodded. “Yes,” I rasped, in a whisper. “We can do this,” I repeated her earlier words.
My eyes lowered to the body wrapped in the white sheet and then back at my friend.
