The Boating Accident

Millions and Millions of Dollars

"Here, you three gotta try these - best in Miami." Captain Luis shoved the box of Cuban pastries our way.

"Mm, already ate, but I'll definitely have one later." I knew to be careful on a boat, especially with the sketchy weather forecast; the tropical May sun was supposed to get blotted out by a storm.

Dad didn't hesitate though, and Luis nodded proudly as his taker inhaled the floppy treat and licked sticky fingers. "Oh man, that's good."

"You want one?" I asked Riley who was texting her joined-at-the-hip boyfriend. I couldn't blame her. I'd been protesting all morning about being held hostage on another one of Dad's psycho adventures. Riley peered at the box like it was disgusting and then gave in. I sipped my water, determined to get through whatever this particular man-proving of Dad's was.

"Don't worry, you'll find him at the street party tonight," Riley said, chasing her pastry down with coffee.

"Who?" I played dumb.

"Wren." She rolled her eyes. As of yesterday, we were officially seniors, and to celebrate I'd envisioned a raucous sticky, sweaty, thumping, gyrating street dance where I'd meet someone flirty enough to get over Liam, preferably someone a little dangerous with a British accent like Wren from Pretty Little Liars.

"Up, two more passengers." Luis beckoned a couple onto his tiny craft. "Welcome aboard Bambino."

"Mornin' Captain," the girl with leadership qualities called. She and a guy with the faintest scruff of red beard made strong handshakes with him as they boarded. Evidently, they weren't strangers to the gym.

Our knees bumped from the new cargo as they chatted with Captain Luis in sailing lingo I didn't understand. This flat-topped motorboat wasn't like any sailboat I'd ever seen. Could we all fit? We'd chosen the more spacious open seating in the back, and now it looked like we would be awkwardly jammed in.

"We're still waiting on one more passenger-have a Cuban pastry, best in Miami," Luis nudged. She helped herself and extended the box for red beard. "Eh, no thanks."

"No?" the girl with navy shorts and ink on her hip held a powdered-sugar bomb up anyway, as if to change his mind.

"Told ja I partied way too much last night." Red beard slinked into a deck cushion, his Ray Bans turned down at his Vans. He said to us, "I'm Justin, and the loud one's Carley." At the helm, Carley was getting nautical with the Captain, pointing to the controls and asking questions.

"Hi, I'm Star and this is Riley," I said, clutching my water bottle like a baby doll.

"Star? That's an interesting name. Where ya from?"

"It's short for Stella - from my great Aunt." Why did I always have to explain this? "We're from Atlan'a." A few natural blond highlights in my brown hair whipped in the wind.

"Hotlanta, eh. Carley and I are sailing buddies in Toronto." Justin took off the Ray Bans to reveal blue eyes.

"Canadians and sailors?" Riley said. "Impressive." She raised her eyebrows wickedly.

Justin crossed one arm over the other, massaging his bicep. "You guys ever seen an ocean race before?"

"No," Riley and I jinxed each other. A cloud swooped over us, blocking the sun. Justin's eyes followed the same color change as the water, from the Brisk Blue I'd coated my room with in eighth grade to Gunmetal.

"Me neither," he said. "It's my first time too." His stare was intense as his chameleon eyes turned light again. "But I can't wait to see the teamwork in action. The trust it takes to crew an ocean race is epic."

"Absolutely awesome," Dad interrupted as he snuck a "He's way too old for you so don't even think about it" look my way.

Riley snorted a little too loudly, yeah right.

After Luis passed Carley's full inspection of Bambino, firm handshakes went around. "Dude, we're gonna miss the race," Carley said, loud enough for our captain to hear.

"I know," Dad checked his phone. "Starts in less than an hour and it'll take us that long to get out of the bay."

"Hold on folks, I think this is our guy," Luis said. A small hairy-armed man with a backpack approached the boat and Captain signaled for him to board.

"Soddy I'm late," he said in a high-pitched voice. "I'm Hector. Nice to meet ju." He sat in the covered shade while the rest of us braved the sun, hats locked down tight.

"That's six passengers; we're good to go." Luis said. Hector wasn't even offered a Cuban Pastry before Luis jumped into the captain's seat and pulled his pride and joy away from the dock. We motored out of the marina, passing a tiki bar. Two shark surf boards had holes tourists could stick their faces in for cheesy photos. Luis tuned into a local station offering hot hits all weekend long.

People started rummaging for beverages and Riley helped herself to Dad's grocery-store picnic of salami, cheese and apples. "Careful, girl," I warned. I mean, she'd only blown chunks a couple times but the memories of cleaning up were epic. "Want some?" she asked Justin.

"Thanks, feeling better, maybe I will." He reached for a square of marbled meat and popped it in his mouth.

Cruising through the glassy bay, you could tell Luis enjoyed hauling tourists around the ritzy mansions. "This one's owned by Tony Camino, ever heard of him?"

We shook our heads as he listed the sports teams, restaurants and cars said tycoon owned. "He made a fortune. A long time ago, I was his body guard. Anyway, see these homes, every one of 'em's worth millions."

"Jes, Meellions," Hector confirmed. He sounded like Fez in That 70's Show. But the Canadians didn't seem impressed by the moguls dripping in wealth. Instead, they took their shirts off to catch some rays. Justin's pale body looked fit, even with a hangover; his arms had the slightest trace of a sleeve tan, and a circle of ink bled across one shoulder.

"Dude, your savage tan is killing me," Carley teased.

"Look who's talking - you're the color of egg salad." Justin poked her in the stomach.

"Hey," Carley scolded as she secured her halter top and stretched out like a cat.

I looked down at my own ghost-white legs next to Riley's true bronze. Luis raised his voice as he pointed into the swampy trees rimming the bay. "And see that place ova' there, I worked for that guy too, worth a ton."

"Meellions and meellions," Hector nodded his tan hat in agreement.

"But wait'll you see the next one." Luis slowed the motor so we could gawk at a modern deal with lots of glass. "Now this mansion, it's kind of different but don't let that fool ya - mucho deniro, you know what I'm saying?"

"Meellions and meellions of dollars," Hector said while circling his wrist high in the air for emphasis.

But the ocean race wasn't being held anywhere near the mansions of the rich and famous. As they shrunk behind us, the bay turned wicked silver. A dark line on the horizon told us we were heading directly into the storm. That's when our three hour tour became a point of no return.

A/N: Thank you for reading and voting if you enjoyed the first chapter. I promise the humor and intensity build, so please stay on board. It's a short story after all.

The plot of this story is centered on the arc of the passengers being in separate groups and then becoming a team that must trust together and defend their captain. That, and the power of humor to overcome any obstacle are my goals here. Comments and questions are appreciated!