Read Online Just Add Salt (2) by Jinx Schwartz - Free Book Online

‘Course most of those boats’ll do twenty knots, but Raymond Johnson could make it easy in five, six days.”
    “David, how do I find one of these guys?”
    “Like I said, Southern California’s chockablock with ‘em. Just ask around at the brokerages. They hire them all the time.”
    “Oh, Dave, I think I love you.” I planted a big smooch on his cheek and gave him a hug.
    “Unhand that man, you Jezebel.” For such a small woman, Vicki Dean had a commanding voice.
    I swiveled my barstool around. “Hey there, Vic. Your husband is a most wonderful man.”
    David blushed. “I didn’t do anything. Guess what, Vicki? Hetta’s taking Raymond Johnson to Mexico.”
    “Atta girl. David, Mumms please. Now Hetta, tell me all about it.”
    “Mumms? How come I always get Cooks?”
    “Because, Hetta Dear, you do not have someone like David in your life.”
    Ain’t that the truth? Vicki shared her Mumms with me while a crowd drew around to hear of Hetta’s new misadventure. Those who had sailed to Baja recounted their good times of cheap beer and sandy beaches, others told the wonders of boating in an area of such pristine beauty. All were envious and piled on their praise that I was going to take my boat south.
    Good champagne and kudos had me basking in the limelight, soaking up the admiration. I raised my glass to Jack London. Even he seemed to smile approval down upon Hetta Coffey, world-class yachtswoman.
    My bubble was rudely deflated when one of the barstool sailors slurred, “So, what does Jenks think of all this?” Some folks really know how to throw a wet blanket on a beach party.

Chapter 6
     
     
    When the phone rang I was conked out on the couch after so many yacht club alcoholic accolades. It was Jenks, so I figured Miz Jan had rushed home and ratted me out. I was right. He wanted to know what I was up to, so I explained, quite reasonably I thought, about the job in Magdalena Bay and my plans to take Raymond Johnson south. When I took a breath and waited for him to say something, there was a delay that was a tad too long to chalk up to satellite lag, so I filled it with what came out in a whine. “And besides, Jenks, you took a job in Kuwait.”
    “I haven’t given Wontrobski my final answer. I wanted to talk to you first, but I guess you’ve made the decision for me. Unless, of course, you renege on your contract, I turn the Trob down, I come home and we get back to planning a sensible trip to Cabo.”
    It was the sensible that pissed me off. I abhor sensible, I hate being lectured to, and this was beginning to sound very much like a sensible lecture.
    “I think I’ll stick with my contract,” I weaseled, sounding stubborn, even to myself.
    Jenks, being Scandahoovian and therefore more stubborn than moi , bulled up. “Fine, have it your way.” Dead airspace hung heavy and this time I held my tongue. Finally, he said, “Gotta go to work. I’ll call you before you leave. Bye.” He was gone.
    “Hey,” I yelled into the ionosphere, “where’s the love you part?” I stared at the dead phone and my heart died a little with it. All I had to do was call back, agree to wait until he came back, and….
    The phone trilled in my hand. Spirits soaring, I said, “Look, I’m sorry. We can work—”
    A hollow voice silenced me. “Stay away from Mag Bay or you’ll pay.”
    Huh? “What did you say?”
    “Stay away from Mag Bay or you’ll pay,” he repeated, his voice sounding like an echo through a culvert pipe.
    “Did Jan put you up to this? Or Jenks? Well, very damned funny. And by the way, you’re a lousy poet.” I hung up and called Jan.
    “Hello,” she answered, her voice gravelly with sleep.
    “Not amusing, Miz Jan. And it won’t work.”
    “What won’t work?”
    “Whatever clown you put up to calling me. And by the way, thanks loads for ratting me out to Jenks.”
    “I had to tell Lars. He must have told Jenks. But I don’t know what else you’re talking about. What