1. Chapter 1 by old_archive

2. Chapter 2 by old_archive

3. Chapter 3 by old_archive

4. Chapter 4 by old_archive

5. Chapter 5 by old_archive

6. Chapter 6 by old_archive

7. Chapter 7 by old_archive

8. Chapter 8 by old_archive

9. Chapter 9 by old_archive

10. Chapter 10 by old_archive

11. Chapter 11 by old_archive

12. Chapter 12 by old_archive

13. Chapter 13 by old_archive

14. Chapter 14 by old_archive

15. Chapter 15 by old_archive

16. Chapter 16 by old_archive

17. Chapter 17 by old_archive

18. Chapter 18 by old_archive

19. Chapter 19 by old_archive

20. Chapter 20 by old_archive

21. Chapter 21 by old_archive

22. Chapter 22 by old_archive

23. Chapter 23 by old_archive

24. Chapter 24 by old_archive

25. Chapter 25 by old_archive

26. Chapter 26 by old_archive

27. Chapter 27 by old_archive

28. Chapter 28 by old_archive

29. Chapter 29 by old_archive

30. Chapter 30 by old_archive

31. Chapter 31 by old_archive

32. Chapter 32 by old_archive

33. Chapter 33 by old_archive

34. Chapter 34 by old_archive

35. Chapter 35 by old_archive

36. Chapter 36 by old_archive

37. Chapter 37 by old_archive

38. Chapter 38 by old_archive

39. Chapter 39 by old_archive

40. Chapter 40 by old_archive

41. Chapter 41 by old_archive

“Yoo hoo!  Nick!”

Nick heard a knock on the side of the boat.  He came up on deck.  Pete and Jo were standing on the dock.  Pete was wearing the same pants as earlier, but he’d changed his shirt.  Nick kind of wished he’d done the same.  Jo was wearing a dress, a sleeveless cotton number with flowers on it.  A light cardigan sweater was draped across her shoulders.

“You ready?” asked Pete.

“Yeah,” said Nick.  “You got a car, or should we call a cab?”

“Already called it,” said Pete.  “It’ll pick us up over there.”  He pointed to the manager’s office.

“Mickey not here yet?” asked Nick.  He grimaced, thinking it was a pretty stupid question.  Obviously, she wasn’t.

“She’s meeting us at the restaurant,” said Pete.

Jo looked at him in surprise.  “She is?  When did you talk to her?”

“While you were getting changed,” said Pete.  “She called and said the meeting was running late.  It doesn’t matter.  We already have all her stuff aboard.  We just need her.”

“I didn’t hear a phone ring,” said Jo, petulantly.

Pete pressed his lips together and then said patiently.  “I have it set to ‘vibrate’.  See.”  He pulled the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

Jo nodded.  “Okay.  When will she get here?”

Pete shrugged.  “She wasn’t sure about the meeting.  She said she hoped to be here by nine.”  He looked at Nick and smiled.  “Shall we?”

Nick stepped up onto the dock.  “Yeah, I’m hungry.  Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pete had not been wrong in his assessment of the restaurant.  The food was excellent.  They shared an appetizer – a crock of hot crab dip with vegetable pieces and crackers on the side.  It was delicious, and Pete and Nick dove in.  Jo munched on some celery and carrot sticks but declined the dip.

The restaurant, Vincenzo’s, was one of those big platter restaurants, where you ordered two or three dishes, and it fed six people.  Together they decided on veal piccata and Caesar salad.  Pete and Nick hemmed and hawed over the pasta selections, but they decided against it.  It would be way too much.  Jo didn’t have much input.  She said she liked everything and would be fine with whatever they decided.  When the waiter asked if they would like a pasta dish as well, Nick and Pete looked at each other and started to laugh.

“Yeah,” said Pete, “we’ll have the penne.”  He looked at Nick and shrugged.  “We’ll divvy up the leftovers.  I’m guessing you’ve got a microwave on the Lenore.”

Nick nodded.  “Yeah, and heating stuff up is my favorite way to cook.”

The salad arrived, and Pete served it out.

“Not too much,” said Jo.

“Just eat what you can,” said Pete, kindly.  He filled two other plates full and handed one to Nick. “So…Lenore…is there some kind of special significance to that name?”

“There might be to someone,” said Nick, “but not to me.”  He explained that he’d bought the boat second-hand and that he planned to change the name.

“Any ideas?” asked Pete.

Nick shook his head.  He knew he’d know the name when he heard it.  Somehow he’d just know it was the right one.

“How about Nick’s World?” suggested Pete.

Nick wrinkled his nose.  “No, I wouldn’t want my name on it.  Too easy for the fans to find.”

Nick’s voice trailed off.  He wondered if that made him sound arrogant…especially since he was sitting here waiting to meet one of those fans.

“What about Weird World?” asked Jordana, softly.

Nick smiled.  “Yeah, that would work, I guess.”

Jo lowered her eyes to her plate.  So Mickey’s not the only fan, thought Nick.  The album’s not even out yet, and Jo knows one of the songs.  He was pleased that she hadn’t made a big deal of it.  It was obvious that the name meant nothing to Pete.

The waiter arrived with the veal and the pasta.  Pete and Nick kept their salad plates, saying they might have more with their dinner.  Jo told the waiter she was finished and that he could take her plate away.  Nick saw that she hadn’t eaten much of the salad, had mostly just pushed it around her plate.

The continued their conversation about boats while they ate their main course.  Pete talked about some of the boats he’d delivered.  He was taking this one down the Intracoastal Waterway to Fort Lauderdale.  Nick was following the same route but continuing on to his place in the Keys.  Jo didn’t have much to add to the conversation after she admitted that she didn’t know anything about boats.

Suddenly, Pete twitched. 

“Whoa,” he said, and he pulled his phone from his pocket.  He flipped it open and put it to his ear. 

“Yo,” he said. He listened for a moment, then said, “but you said…” then listened some more.

Nick smiled.  He guessed this was the missing Mickey.  He hoped Pete wouldn’t insist that Nick speak to her.  Nick hated that…when fans shoved a cell phone in his face and begged him to say ‘hi’ to their friend or sister or cousin.  What the hell were you supposed to say to a perfect stranger, especially one that was either sobbing out how much she loved you or else taping every word you said for playback on the Internet?

Pete wasn’t saying much of anything.  He was mostly listening.  Nick noticed that Jordana had put down her fork and was staring intently at Pete.

“Well, Honey,” said Pete, with a grin, “if you knew who was sitting across from me at this table, you’d be telling your boss to shove his dinner plans.”

Pete listened for another moment and then said, “I’ll give you a hint.  The initials are Nick Carter.”  He paused and then laughed.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Your Nick Carter.” 

Pete abruptly moved the phone away from his ear.  “Jeez, Honey, they could probably hear that in Poughkeepsie.  Settle down.”

Pete listened some more.  Then he placed his napkin on the table and stood up.  “So when do you think you can get here?” he asked  He nodded at Nick and Jordana and walked away from the table.

There was an awkward silence at the table.  Nick ate a forkful of penne.  “This is good,” he said.

Jordana looked at Nick.  “I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she replied.

Nick looked at her plate.   She had barely touched her food. 

“You said ‘jet lag’ before,” said Nick.

“Yes,” said Jordana.  “I just got back from Europe.  But that was over a week ago.  I should be over that by now, don’t you think?”

Nick shrugged.  “Hard to say.  Jet lag hits everybody differently.”

“I guess you’d know about that,” said Jo, with a smile.  “I imagine you rack up quite a few air miles in a year.”

“Yeah,” agreed Nick, “and I hate every one.  So, where in Europe were you?”

“Mostly France,” said Jo.  “I was there for two months.  I made side trips to Switzerland and Italy.”

“That sounds great,” said Nick.  “Was it a holiday or something?”

“Yeah.  It was a present from my parents…for getting my Master’s.  I start work the first of July.”

“Really?  What do you specialize in?”  Nick wasn’t sure that was the correct term.

Jordana didn’t get a chance to answer because Pete reappeared at the table suddenly, snapping his phone shut and taking his seat.

“Change of plans,” he said.  “Mickey’s boss decided they had to continue the meeting over dinner.”  He looked at Nick.  “She’s in advertising.  She always has to suck up to the client.”

“When will she get here?” asked Jo.

“Well, she’s not actually going to get here,” explained Pete, emphasizing the last word.  “She’s going to fly out tomorrow morning and meet us in Charleston.”

“But…” protested Jo.

Pete sighed.  “Jo, you know I can’t wait.  I have to get this boat to Florida by the 20th.  I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

Nick was beginning to feel uncomfortably out of place.  He wondered if he should excuse himself to the washroom and let them finish the discussion in peace.  He was saved from making the decision by the waiter who came over to inquire about dessert choices.  They all declined. 

The waiter asked if they wanted the remains boxed up.  Pete asked if they could have two containers.

“No problem,” answered the waiter.  “Are you finished, Miss?”

Jordana nodded.  Pete looked at her plate. 

“Aw, Jo,” he said, with concern in his voice, “you’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

“I’m just not very hungry,” retorted Jordana, defensively.

“Okay, okay,” said Pete, reassuringly.  He reached over and squeezed her hand.

The waiter returned with the boxes and the bill.  It wasn’t very expensive, thought Nick, adding things up mentally.  He and Pete had had a couple of beers.  Jordana had stuck to mineral water.

“Let me get the tip, Man,” suggested Nick, remembering the look on the grocery delivery man’s face.

“I said it was on me, but sure, if you want to.  That’d be great.”  Pete counted out cash from his wallet.

Nick couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a restaurant bill paid with cash.  Everyone used plastic these days.  Nick slipped forty dollars under the edge of his plate.  He knew it was too much but better that than too little.

The ride back to the marina was quiet.  Since Nick had paid for the outgoing journey, Pete insisted on paying for the return.  While he was getting a receipt from the cabbie, Nick and Jordana stood without talking.

“Okay,” said Pete.  “That’s done.”

They walked down the dock.  They reached the junction of the T where they would part company.  Pete shifted his plastic bag of food to his left hand and reached out with his right.

“Well, Nick, it was nice meeting you.”

The opportunity had finally come for Nick to be alone, and suddenly, he didn’t want to be.

“Hey, it’s still early.  You guys want to come over to my place for a beer or some wine or something?”  Nick hoped his question didn’t sound as desperate to their ears as it did to his.

Pete looked at Jordana.  “What do you say, Jo?”

Jordana shook her head.  “Nah, I’m pretty tired.  I’m going to turn in early.  You go ahead, though.”

“Are you sure?” asked Pete.  “You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“Of course, I will,” replied Jordana.  It was her turn to reach out a hand.  “It was nice to meet you, Nick.  I’m sorry I wasn’t better company.”

“’S okay,” said Nick, shaking her hand gently.  “You were cool.”

Jordana took the plastic bag of food from Pete.  “Stay as long as you like, Pete,” she said.  “You won’t disturb me when you come back.”

Jordana turned her back on them and walked down the dock.  Pete stared after her for a moment. Then with a sigh, he turned and started walking in the direction of the Lenore.

“Is she okay?” whispered Nick, when he thought they were out of earshot.

“Yeah,” said Pete quietly.  “She just…uh…she’s had the flu.”

“She said ‘jet lag’,” said Nick.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, she said ‘jet lag’.”

Nick wondered if ‘the flu’ meant the same thing he’d thought ‘jet lag’ meant earlier.

“I’ll be glad when Mickey gets here,” said Pete with a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick and Pete sat on the back deck of the Lenore and had a beer.  Pete asked intelligent questions about the boat but never asked to see below.  Nick was pleased that Pete was aware of this piece of boating etiquette.  It was the same as earlier, when he and Jo had arrived to pick Nick up for dinner.  They had stayed on the dock.  It was an unwritten rule.  You did not step onto someone’s boat unless you were invited.  You did not ask for ‘a tour’.  You waited until it was offered.

Pete had been on numerous boats, according to his travel stories, probably more than him, Nick figured.  After they exhausted details of the engine specifications and top cruising speed, Nick asked Pete if he’d like another beer.  When Pete said, “sure”, Nick invited him down to see the cabin area.

Pete descended the stairs and gave a low whistle.  “Jeez, must be nice to be rich!”  He ran his hand along the back of the leather captain’s chair.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” replied Nick, with a laugh.

“This is great,” said Pete, peering closely at the stereo system built into the wall.  “But I guess it makes sense you’d be into music.  What are your speakers?”

“Blaupunkt 680s,” said Nick.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Pete.  “You turn those babies up full blast, you might blow the boat apart.” Pete leaned in to examine the rest of the entertainment system.  “Man, you got everything here…DVD, TV…you’ll never have to go topside.”

“Well, there’s that whole ‘driving the boat’ thing,” said Nick, “but yeah, when I’m at anchor, there’s no reason to be bored.”

“I’ll say.  What’s this?”  Pete pointed at another set of plugs and dials.

“That’s for the computer.  I have a laptop.”

“Cool!  Why do you need that?  For charging the battery?”

Nick shook his head.  “No, but it does that at the same time.  That’s my Internet access cable.”

“You can’t have an Internet cable on a boat!” said Pete.

“It’s not like that,” explained Nick.  “I have a wireless hookup in my laptop, but it only works if you’re a certain distance from a cell or a tower or something.  I’m not sure what.  Anyway, if you plug the computer into that, it enhances the signal, makes it stronger or something.  At least, that’s what they said.”  Nick shrugged.  “I’m not planning on using my computer much anyway.  I’ll find out what lies the tabloids have told about me when I get home.  I don’t need to go looking for them.”

“I hear ya,” said Pete.  “This the head?”

Nick nodded and continued with the tour of the boat.  That took them to the end of the second beer, and they went back on deck, where Pete said his goodbyes.

“This is a real makeout machine,” he said of the Lenore.  “All that black glass and white leather.  It’s a bachelor’s paradise.  The boat I’m taking, the Sunset Voyager…now that is a complete ‘old fogy’ boat, all mahogany and velvet.”  Pete looked around once more and then said, “Well, I’d better get back.  See ya, Nick.”

Nick said goodbye and watched Pete walk away.  Then he went below and got another beer.  He looked around the cabin.

Bachelor’s Paradise.

Nick wondered if that was what he should name the boat.

DAY THREE – Charleston SC,

Nick slept late the next day.  The cumulative effects of a long day on the water and the number of beers he’d consumed while listening to Pete’s story were that he slept dreamlessly until well past ten in the morning.

Nick threw on some clothes, pausing over yesterday’s shirt and then deciding in favor of a clean one.  If he might be running into people he knew…

Nick made coffee and ate a bowl of cereal standing up over the sink.  He rinsed the bowl and left it in the sink.  He thought about making himself some lunch before he went topside but decided against it.  He grabbed two bottles of water and put them in the cooler.  Then he took his coffee and went upstairs to greet the day.

It was a beautiful morning.  The sun was shining, and there was a gentle breeze.  It might get hot later in the day, but right now, it was comfortable.

Sure was different from Florida, thought Nick.  Even first thing in the morning at this time of year, it was already hot.  And in the summer…July and August…the heat was so stifling it took your breath away.

And they were starting the tour in Florida…in July…in outdoor venues.  They’d be sweating like pigs throughout the whole show.  At least, he would be, thought Nick.

Nick smiled and finished his coffee.  Getting on the road with the fellas…he could hardly wait.  The mini-tour they’d done in the spring had whet their appetite for more.  The album would be out soon, and then they’d be doing rehearsals, video shoots and then show after show after show.

Smaller venues this time, thought Nick.  A little bigger than the general admission shows…and a little more crowd control.  Sometimes it was scary looking out at those bodies in the front row crushed up against the security barrier, literally taking their life in their hands so they could be closest to the stage, to the Boys, to Nick…

Yeah, Nick thought, those were my fans…mine and AJ’s…Kevin fans were way too smart to get crushed in like that.  They were all hanging out near the back…hearing the same music, seeing the same dances, but able to breathe and move a bit.  Of course, mused Nick, those fans were missing the big opportunity to have BSB water thrown on them…or AJ sweat…or Nick spit.

Nick went below, rinsed out his coffee mug and put it in the sink beside the cereal bowl.  He picked up the cooler and climbed to the top deck.  He turned on the boat, checked all the switches and gauges and placed the navigation chart for this part of the trip in the plexiglas holder beside the wheel.

“Hey, Man!  Want me to shove you off?”

Nick looked down to see a teenage boy standing on the dock.  He was wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt that said ‘Rock on!’  A fishing rod and a tackle box sat on the dock beside him.

Nick smiled and waved.  “That’d be cool, Man!”

The boy unlooped the mooring rope from it’s stanchion and tossed it up on the deck.  He pushed hard on the boat and then leaned back, regaining his footing.

“Thanks,” called Nick, reversing the boat away from the slip.

“Nice rig,” said the boy, nodding his head appreciatively.

Nick nodded his agreement and his thanks and then turned the boat out into the canal.  He pressed the throttle slowly forward.  He waved to the boy again.  The boy waved back.  When Nick cleared the channel, he looked back over his shoulder.  The boy was still on the dock, gazing admiringly at the Lenore.

Nick smiled.  He remembered being a kid, looking at every boat he saw, wanting one in the worst way. He was younger than this kid.  This kid looked to be about sixteen.  By the time Nick was sixteen, he’d been on the road for three years, and that was after years of auditions, fits and starts, bit parts, being nagged endlessly by his mother.

No, I’m not going there, thought Nick.  I’m not letting her wreck this trip.

Nick looked down at the chart.  He traced his finger down the route.  He looked at his watch. 

Beaufort.

That would make this a slow, lazy day.  Nick consulted the ICW Handbook, looking over the list of rivers, inlets and coves.  Yeah, here were a couple…Tom Point Creek, SC at Mile 496.  Excellent depth and shelters, totally deserted…Rock Creek, SC, Mile 516, good depth, marsh grasses…

As with everything in his life, once Nick made his decision, a calm settled over him, and all the jumpy nerves went away.  He was going to take it slow and easy today. 

As Nick left the marina, he passed the slip where the Sunset Voyager had been berthed.  The slip was empty.  He wondered how much of a head start Pete and Jo had.  Nick wondered if he would catch up to them during the day.  He wasn’t going to try.  He didn’t really care.  He’d see them in Beaufort…or not.  It didn’t really matter.

Nick wondered how he would react to Jo if he did see her.  Would he be able to keep a poker face and not let on that he knew her secret?  Would she be mad at Pete if she knew he had spilled the beans to Nick?

Well, too bad, thought Nick.  I’ll face that if I get to it.  Right now, I’m just going to enjoy the ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Nick moved along the Waterway, he let his thoughts wander, but he never lost his concentration on driving the boat.  His mind drifted along various pathways, hopping from one subject to the next, sometimes with no discernible connection.  Sometimes it was the beauty of nature that occupied his thoughts, sometimes it was his personal life, and sometimes it was his business – the business of being Nick Carter.

Nick saw an egret standing in the shallow water of a marsh, and its skinny legs made him think of Jordana.  What was it Pete had said?  “Still twenty pounds shy of where she should be?”

Nick tried to imagine Jo that skinny.  He couldn’t.  If she even lost ten pounds, she’d be skeletal.  It would be suicidal.

Nick wondered about that.  Pete had hinted at that the night before but had not come right out and said it.  But really, when you looked at it, could you really get yourself into a state like that and not be aware of it?  Could you be so close to death that you couldn’t even stand up and not think there was something wrong?

Nick pondered that for a moment.  Five more pounds.  That’s what Jordana had said when they found her.  On the way to the hospital, she had told Mickey that she was okay, there was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t think she was fat any more...and that she figured she just needed to lose five more pounds.

Five more pounds.

Nick ran his hand across his stomach.  Five pounds.  It was weird how that was the number everyone used when they talked about weight loss.  Woo hoo!  I lost five pounds.  Maybe because the number was achievable.  Anyone could lose five pounds, right?  Ten pounds.  That would be twice as difficult, right?  It would be better to shoot for five…twice.

Nick knew that losing ten pounds was more than twice as difficult as losing five.  Putting on five pounds.  Whole different story!  Easy as pie…or cake…or pizza…or beer…

Beer.

That thought brought Nick back again to Pete.

Poor Pete.

He’d planned this trip to take Mickey on a romantic getaway and propose to her.  Now, not only did he not have Mickey, he was stuck with her anorexic friend who wouldn’t eat anything and had to be watched carefully so that she didn’t exercise herself to death. 

Nick thought about that.  He didn’t think there was much opportunity for strenuous exercise on the Sunset Voyager, unless Jo leapt into the Waterway and swam alongside the boat for a few miles.  It didn’t seem like she was into exercise anyway, thought Nick.  She seemed to spend most of her time sleeping.  You couldn’t use up many calories that way.

Exercise.

Boot camp.

Nick grinned to himself.  Boot camp.  Brian.

Poor Brian.

For once, it had not been Nick who arrived at the first training session the most out of shape.  Brian had gained quite a bit of sympathy weight during Leighanne’s pregnancy and had arrived at boot camp with chubby cheeks and a tummy roll that he called his ‘Baylee Bulge’.  For once, someone else was the target of the sadistic devil hired to get them in shape.

Howie arrived in perfect condition and then worked out harder than any of them.  AJ was as skinny as a bone and worked out when he felt like it.  He was very careful of his knee, but Nick and the others knew it was only when he wanted to be.  When the going got tough, AJ headed for the sidelines with a wince and a wink.

As for Nick, the trainer had run his eyes over him and then pursed his lips.

“I’ll do the exercises, and I’ll sweat like a pig,” said Nick.  “But I’m stocky!  Get over it!”

The others fell about laughing, but Satan the Trainer only said, “Yeah, you’re gonna sweat!”

Kevin arrived in perfect condition and announced that he really wanted to get a program going because he wanted to lose five more pounds.

DAY FOUR – Beaufort, South Carolina – Mile 536

Nick did not sleep dreamlessly this time.  He tossed and turned in the bed while his psyche churned up all the crap from his life and tried to sort it out, throwing up bizarre images and sounds.

At one point, Nick woke up and sat up suddenly.  He hit his head on the slanted wall above the bed.  It took him a couple of moments to figure out where he was. 

“Man!” he said to himself.  “What was all that about?”  He was soaked in sweat, and the duvet was tangled around his legs.  He looked at the clock.  2:38.

Nick tried to recall the dream, but he couldn’t.  That was probably for the best, he figured.  All he could remember was a feeling of being terrified. 

He got off the bed and made his way to the head.  While he was relieving himself, he scratched his chest and breathed deeply, letting his heart settle back down from his throat into his chest. 

Nick went back to the bedroom and picked the duvet up off the floor.  He fluffed it up into the air and settled it on the bed.  Then he slid between the sheets and grabbed his pillow again.  He lay in the dark, afraid to close his eyes, afraid to fall back into the dream. 

He played with the song he’d been messing with earlier in the day.  I’m Cool.  He hummed the melody and ran some words together.  He tried to think of all the words he could that rhymed with ‘cool’.  Pool…fool…drool…ghoul…

Nick’s eyes drifted shut.

In the morning, he woke up at 6:30 and couldn’t go back to sleep.  He’d had more dreams during the night, but they weren’t scary…just confusing.  Nick had dreamt he was running, and when he woke up, he was exhausted.

A glance out the window did nothing to improve his outlook.  The sky was overcast and grey.  It was going to rain at some point today, Nick was sure.

Nick made coffee and went up on deck.  His plan the night before had been to try for Georgia today.  Savannah, maybe.  Mile 583.  That wasn’t really a long trek.  Not even fifty miles.  There were lots of creeks and inlets en route that might be worth a look.

The rain might change all those plans.  Nick checked the guidebook for anchorages.  If it started to rain, he was going to anchor the boat and wait it out.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of storms, he just didn’t want to get wet.  And it was still May, so the rain would be chilly.

Nick wrote a list on his notepad of various anchorages along his planned route.  He tore off the paper and put it with the carefully folded navigation chart.

He got another cup of coffee and thought about breakfast.  He didn’t feel like cereal today.  He opened all the cupboards and the refrigerator.  Nothing really piqued his interest so he had Froot Loops again.  He made a note to himself that he needed to get milk before he could have another bowl of cereal.

Then he went topside and cast off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain started at ten o’clock.  The sky had become darker and darker, the clouds more and more threatening.  Nick was just coming up on Broad Creek.  The guidebook recommended this anchorage as being sheltered.  Nick followed the directions, turning east past Opossum Point.  There was a marina there, but Nick didn’t go to it.  He dropped anchor and waited out the rain.

Before the rain started, he’d been traveling slowly, checking out various spots along the route.  Skull Creek turned out to be nothing special, and Nick didn’t spend a lot of time there.  There didn’t seem to be a lot of traffic today…maybe because it was a weekday.  Nick looked carefully at every boat that he passed that was lying at anchor or tied up to a dock.  He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t looking for the Sunset Voyager.

At Broad Creek, after making sure that everything was fastened down, Nick went below to wait out the rain.  He started to play a video game, but the drumming of the rain on the deck overhead and the restless sleep of the night before combined to make him very sleepy. 

Jeez, I’m napping at 10:30 in the morning, he said to himself.  What a wild and crazy life I lead!!

Nevertheless, he pulled the duvet over his legs and was asleep in seconds.  He slept soundly and dreamlessly for two hours and woke refreshed and ready to move on.

The weather had cleared somewhat.  The rain had stopped although the sky was still heavy with dark clouds.

Decision time, thought Nick.  Move on, or stay here?  He tossed the choices around his head.

Lunch was the decision he came up with.  He made himself a couple of sandwiches.  He took a good look at his groceries.  Since he was uncertain where he would end up today, he might want to think about dinner.  He didn’t want to eat another frozen pasta dish, that was for sure. 

Nick spotted the styrofoam container holding the remains of the supper from Vincenzo’s.  He counted the days on his fingers.  Nope, he didn’t want to eat that, didn’t even want to look at it.  He threw the container in the garbage.  Then he tied the plastic bag up tight to keep in any smells, and he put it in another bag.  He picked up the notepad and wrote ‘garbage’ under ‘milk’.

Nick still hadn’t made a decision about dinner by the time he finished the second sandwich.  He grabbed a bottle of water and went topside, telling himself that it would all work out.  He wouldn’t starve to death, even if he did have to defrost and nuke his way to Florida.

“I’m cool,” he hummed to himself, as he checked the gauges and switches.  “I’m cool…didn’t go to high school…don’t follow the rules…but I’m cool…”

Nick laughed.  This was a pretty dumb song, he figured, but it kept flitting around his head.   He started the engine and headed back up Broad Creek to the Waterway.

“I’m cool…I ain’t no fool…”

Maybe that’s what he could name the boat. I’m Cool.

Yeah, right!  No arrogance there, Nicky!

Suddenly, Nick’s thoughts sailed off the boat and into his past.  Cool?  Nope, never.  Not once.  Nick remembered his years in middle school.  He was the skinny kid who was often absent because of auditions.  He wasn’t a jock.  He was a geek. 

Singing and dancing didn’t make you cool in the eyes of your classmates.  It made you ‘gay’.  And not necessarily in a sexual sense…twelve year olds didn’t really understand all the ramifications of homosexuality.  No, ‘gay’ meant uncool, sissified, girlie…

And even though trying out for a spot on the Mickey Mouse Club was a big deal in the entertainment world, it was like painting a target on your back on the school playground. 

Trevor Barker.

The name jumped up in front of Nick.  Trevor Barker, the school bully.  Nick could see his face even now.  And he could hear his voice.

“Hey, Gay Boy!”

Nick shivered at the helm.  He knew it wasn’t the weather that made him do that.  It was the memory of the harassment that he’d suffered from the bigger, meaner boy.  Nick had been under strict orders from his mother that he was not to get in any fights.  He couldn’t go to an audition with a black eye or his hand in a cast.  So he couldn’t stand his ground and take on the bully even if he’d wanted to.  He hadn’t wanted to.  He was afraid of Trevor.  But he was more afraid of disappointing his mother.

Nick had foolishly confided to another classmate, another victim of Trevor's cruel streak, that he couldn’t fight Trevor because he had auditions and performances and he couldn’t afford to get hurt.  In a desperate attempt at getting off the bully’s hit list, the classmate had shared Nick’s confidence with Trevor's best friend.

Trevor had been merciless from that point on.  He had taunted Nick constantly, calling him a wimp, a girl, a pussy…

Nick smiled wryly to himself.  He remembered that the first time Trevor had called him that, Nick hadn’t even known what he meant.  He’d thought Trevor meant ‘a cat’.

The final auditions for the Backstreet Boys had come just in time.  Nick didn’t think he could have survived much more formal schooling.

Nick turned the wheel, moving the Lenore into a slight bend in the Waterway.  He wondered where Trevor Barker was now.  Prison, probably.  Nick had never heard from him again.

That wasn’t true of all of his classmates.  Nick had heard from several of his former middle school colleagues who all seemed to remember being Nick’s best friend at the time.  He’d had requests for money, offers of sex and demands for his time.  He had turned them all down.

The rain started again, and Nick turned into Elba Island Cut.  He dropped anchor in the river and  went below.  He threw in a DVD and watched people shooting each other for 90 minutes.  When the movie ended, so did the rain, and Nick went topside. 

He looked at the charts and realized that he was less than ten miles from Thunderbolt, the marina he had chosen from the guidebook for tonight’s stay.  The guidebook warned that calling ahead for docking instructions was advisable due to the tidal currents and that there were people on site to help with fenders etc.

The guidebook also pointed out that there was a complete yacht repair and refit yard.  Nick sure hoped he wouldn’t have to make use of that.  He was also going to try and resist the daily delivery of Krispy Kreme donuts to every boat.  The recommendation of an excellent restaurant just ¼ mile away was good news to Nick.  It meant he wouldn’t have to microwave plastic food for dinner.

Nick got on the radio and called Channel 16.  He arranged for an overnight mooring.  Will do, said the dockmaster.  He gave Nick specific instructions on how to approach the marina.  Nick listened carefully and did exactly what he was told.  It was tricky working his way through all the channels to the Wilmington River, and it took him over an hour.

When he was safely moored, he went up to the office to pay the dockage rate.  He listened as the clerk listed off the facilities, apologizing that there was no cable or internet access.

Nick shrugged.  He didn’t care about that.  There was fuel and a store where he could buy milk.  That was pretty much all he wanted or needed.  He got directions to the restaurant and assured the clerk that he would come back and arrange for a taxi if he wanted to see historic Savannah.  He did not inquire about anyone else’s reservation.

Nick went back to the Lenore and studied the brochure.  Maybe he should take a look.  He had lots of time to get to Florida, and it wouldn’t kill him to get a little culture along the way.  Maybe tomorrow, he’d check the city out.

Nick looked at his watch.  Then he looked out the window at the sky.  He figured the rain was done for the day.  It would be okay to go for a walk. 

He’d save Downtown Savannah for the next day, if indeed he were in the mood for “sultry ambiance, striking beauty and old-world charm”.  Nick didn’t know if he would want to spend time “enjoying the warm hospitality and relaxed pace of the Old South”.  And he wasn’t really sure he was the type of guy to stroll down “cobblestone streets where century-old live oaks shade magnificent homes, winsome gardens and picturesque squares”.

At the moment, Nick was thinking about the picturesque golden arches again.  He rubbed his stomach and told himself, ‘NO!’  The restaurant near the marina, Teeple’s…Nick giggled at the name…would have much better food than McDonald’s.  And plates and knives and forks…all the stuff grownups used to eat!

Nick forced himself up off the leather sofa.  Let’s get going, he told himself.  He checked the boat carefully, making sure all the moorings were secure.  He debated about locking the cabin and decided against it.  There was a fraternity among boatmen.  You didn’t enter anyone else’s boat uninvited.  And security seemed pretty good here.  And other than his guitar, Nick didn’t have anything on board that anyone would want to steal.  His underwear used to fetch big dollars on eBay, but he wasn’t sure it still would.

None of them was sure of that anymore.  It had been a long time…their Up Close and Personal tour had been a great success from their viewpoint, but who knew really how much of an indicator that was. Sure, they could sell a couple of thousand tickets in any given city, but what if that was all they could sell?

Opinions were divided on it…certainly among their handlers, but also amongst the Boys themselves.  Nick tried really hard not to say anything, not to express any opinion at all.  He’d learned pretty quickly that they all considered his solo effort to be a failure, and his dating Paris was just the “mistake of a lifetime”.  Nick didn’t believe either of these to be true.  But he wasn’t in the position to argue with them.  Or the mood.  He was just happy to be back with the guys making music.

He knew that the early leaks of the music had led to two camps being formed among the fans…the first was Too Much Nick, the second was OMIGOD Nick!!  That sure put him between a rock and a hard place with the fellas.  There had been some hard feelings with the other guys over his solo tour.  Hell, there’d been hard feelings with the guys over everything near the end of Black and Blue. 

When they came back to record together, post-Oprah, post-solo tour, post-lawsuit…they were ready to record again.  But they weren’t sure they were ready to be friends again.  And they were a long, long way from being brothers again.  The Paris situation hadn’t helped with that.

Or maybe it had, thought Nick.  It sure had put the other four on the same page in a hell of a hurry!

Then they stated recording, and it all seemed to be about Nick and AJ.  The first few songs that were leaked were ones where Nick and AJ seemed to have all the leads.  Except that they didn’t.  Yeah, it sounded that way, but when you really listened to it, you heard that it was rarely only one person singing.

Except Brian.  When he sang lead, he sang lead! 

But he wasn’t much in evidence on the first couple that got out there.  It was all Nick and AJ, according to the fans.  AJ’s clean and sober voice was miraculous.  It made shivers run down Nick’s spine.  Everyone wanted to hear it.  But they didn’t want to hear so much of Nick apparently.  And where was Brian?

Nick knew that everyone would feel better about it when the album came out.  Even the Kevin and Howie fans.  There was something there for everyone.  Nick knew that Safest Place to Hide was going to sneak up on the fans and blow them away.  They were all proud of the fact that only a snippet had got out there.  The fans had no idea that it was this album’s Drowning…a solo performance by all of them. 

Nick couldn’t understand why they didn’t want to make it part of the show in the tour.  After all, it showcased all their voices perfectly.  It was a beautiful song.  They could do it a cappella or with instruments.  But somehow, it didn’t seem to be making the cut.

And Nick wasn’t going to argue for it.  He wasn’t going to argue about anything.  He knew that the way they were mapping out the show, there were going to be two opinions…Too Much Nick and OMIGOD, Nick!

Enough of this, he thought, go get some dinner.  Worry about something you can do something about.  What was that old saying?  God give me the sense to change the things I can and ignore the things I can’t.  Something like that, thought Nick.

Nick stepped off the boat and started up the dock.  As he passed the marina office, he could see a covered garbage dumpster out by the road.  Nick made a mental note to remember to bring the garbage bag out to that before he left the next day.

Nope, he thought, suddenly turning back to the Lenore.  Do something about the things you can do something…oh, whatever…get the garbage now while you’re thinking of it.  By morning, you’ll have other things on your mind.

Nick retrieved the plastic bag from the garbage can under the kitchen sink.  He looked around but didn’t see anything else.  He had quite a collection of plastic bottles, and he reminded himself to look for a recycling bin.

He stepped off the boat and headed for the marina office once again.  Just past it, he stepped carefully over a join with a dock that ran perpendicular to the main one.  Nick looked to his left.  A few boats down…was that the…yeah, maybe that was the Sunset Voyager.

Nick walked a couple of steps down the dock.  He didn’t know if he would be welcome there.  He didn’t know what he would say to either of them.  He looked around but didn’t see anyone.  He went a little closer.  There was no one up on deck.

He could hear something, though.  Someone was down below.

Nick stepped to the side of the boat and listened.  Then he grimaced.

Someone was throwing up.

Jo.

DAY FIVE – Savannah, Georgia – Mile 583

Nick stared after the departing boat.  As it reached the end of the channel, Pete turned around and looked back…at the Lenore.  Nick ducked his head out of sight.  He didn’t think that Pete would have been able to see him anyway in the weak light, but even so, Nick hid.

So now what?

So now get a couple hours sleep, Nick told himself.  In the morning, you can head out and if you catch up to them, fine!  Otherwise, mind your own business.  It would be stupid to try and follow them now anyway.  It’s too dark, and you don’t know these waters well enough.

Nick dragged the duvet down to the bedroom and threw it on the bed.  He swiveled his neck and stretched his arms out in front of him.  He reached to pull the sweatshirt over his head, but he stopped.

Shit!

Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

Nick went out to the dining area.  He switched on the light and looked at the charts that were spread out on the table.  He picked up the one from yesterday and looked at the markings he’d made on it while the dock master’s assistant had been bringing him in.

Nick was glad he’d made the notes.  It brought it all back to him and made him confident that he could find his way out on his own.

And was he going to do that?

Apparently, he was, he thought with a sigh.  He went topside and undid the mooring ropes.  He picked up the boat hook, a long pole that looked like a spear at one end but with a hook attached underneath.  Nick used it to push the boat away from the dock.  Then he took the charts and the book and went up to the upper deck.  He started the engine and slowly moved the boat out into the channel, following the trail of the Sunset Voyager.

Nick was careful not to go too quickly…for two reasons.  First, he wanted to make sure he was safe, that he didn’t run aground on a shoal.  Secondly, he didn’t want to catch up to Pete and Jo.  He didn’t want Pete to know that Nick was following him.

For the hundredth time, Nick wondered what the fuck he was doing.  There were many different ways out of the Wilmington River back to the Waterway.  And who even knew if Pete would go that way?  If he was looking to avoid Nick, wouldn’t Pete backtrack, maybe hide out in one of the creeks?

You’re making a lot of assumptions here, Nick told himself.  First of all, when did Pete become the bad guy?  How do you know that he’s hiding from you?  It’s possible that the guy just left early…to avoid the traffic that they had talked about last night. 

But without lights?

Maybe he didn’t want to wake Jo.

Because she’s sick. 

She’s physically sick and mentally sick.

She needs help, all right, but not from you, whispered Nick’s brain.  She needs it from a shrink or something.  If you keep having these paranoid fantasies, maybe you can go crazy too.  Maybe you can have the couch next to hers in the psychiatrist’s office.

Turn back, Nick told himself.  Or pull over and drop anchor until daylight.  Do the smart thing for once.

It all made sense.  It was all good advice.

But Nick pushed the throttle forward and headed up the channel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Nick over an hour and a half to negotiate his way out of the Wilmington River and back to the Waterway.  He moved very slowly and carefully, checking the chart often and squinting at every sign he passed.  He wished he were doing this in daylight.  There was some pretty scenery…some really big houses…old ones, not nouveau-riche crap.  Nick knew he’d see enough of that when he got to Florida.

Nick passed the entrance to the Herb River.  He looked up it, but he couldn’t see any boats.  He couldn’t see much of anything in the early dawn light.  The glare from his own lights made it more difficult to see anything further away.

It was light by the time he reached the Isle of Hope.  Nick thought that was a great name.  There were some really neat old houses along the shore and also a couple of yacht clubs.  Nick figured there was some Old South money in this area. 

Nick looked down at the chart.  Next up was Moon River.  The guidebook warned against entering this river.  It was only about four feet deep and not very wide.  There was no way the Lenore could go up there and probably not the Sunset Voyager either.

The guidebook gave several different warnings about how to navigate through Hell Gate.  Like the name wasn’t enough, thought Nick.  Jeez!  Nick picked his way through carefully, staying away from the shoals.  They were clearly marked, Nick saw, which made him feel relieved.  He guessed other people hadn’t been as lucky and had grounded on them. 

Nick wondered how many incidents it took to get a warning sign.  It was like when you saw that they were putting up stoplights at an intersection.  You wondered how many accidents had happened there, how many petitions had been signed, how many bouquets of flowers had been left to mark the spot of tragedy.

Oh, so now it’s tragedy, thought Nick.  What are you doing to yourself?  This was supposed to be two weeks of quiet contemplation, just you and nature or whatever.  And you’re turning it into a three-act melodrama, complete with code words and hidden signals.  And you’re ready to believe that someone is a bad guy just ‘cause he maybe didn’t want to spend the whole trip with you.  And all the guy has done so far is to look after his girlfriend’s neurotic girlfriend.

I’m an idiot, thought Nick.  I should make my way out onto the ocean and rev this baby up to the max and get well away from Pete and Jo and the whole stupid scenario.  Who knew if he would run into them again, and if he did, who knew what new insane story Jo would have to tell?!  Maybe she was desperate for attention or something. 

And then a guilty thought slipped unbidden into Nick’s mind.  Jo was a fan.

Nick shook his head to drive the thought away.  Instead he concentrated on his charts.  He was coming up on Bear Island.  He could go either way to go around it.  The water was deep enough on either side, according to the charts, so it was just a case of picking which way to go.  Nick’s instinct was to go to the right.  That seemed the natural thing to do.  But for some reason, he decided not to.  He swung the boat to the left.

She’s a fan.

Yes, Jo was a fan, and according to both her and Pete, Mickey was an even bigger one.  Jo had proved that she wasn’t quite right in the head, what with the eating disorder and all, so maybe she was doing her best now to have a ‘fan encounter’ story to tell Mickey.  It was a pretty whacked-out story, but then Jo was a pretty whacked-out girl.

And Nick knew that there was almost nothing some fans wouldn’t do to get a piece of the Boys.  Not all of them, of course, not even most of them.  Most of their fans just listened to the music and came to the concerts and bought t-shirts and stuff. 

But when they got up close and personal, some of them got weird.  Nick found it ironic that they had called the mini-tour the Up Close and Personal Tour.  He was always saying that in interviews…that they wanted to get up close and personal with the fans.  But he meant behind a wall of security guards and a big steel barrier.

Nick loved signing autographs and answering questions in fan conferences and stuff.  He liked it when it was controlled.  He didn’t like chance encounters.  He wasn’t prepared for them, and you just never knew what people would do.  Nick thought about the crazy questions that they asked in fan conferences in front of other people.  And he knew that when they had you alone, they asked even weirder stuff.

And then they talked about it. 

On the Internet. 

The World Wide Fucking Web!

Nick and Kevin had begun checking the fan sites when they were on tour to get the reaction to the concerts.  There was no point in reading the reviews.  They were never good.  American critics didn’t like them…never had, never would.  So tuning in to LiveDaily or the Mature Fan Club gave them a better idea of how the concert had gone over with the people that counted. 

Nick always checked out Not-Like-You because it had most of the stuff right on the front page.  He didn’t have to go looking for it.  It was amazingly up-to-date with pictures and announcements …and it was mostly about him.  It had been set up during his solo outing, and it had been very supportive.  Nick liked having a place to go to hear good things about himself.  But it was there that he’d heard the most bizarre thing in his life.

Brian didn’t bother with the message boards.  He didn’t care.  He had other things to think about...the wife, the kid, God… 

Howie didn’t even know what a message board was, thought Nick.  He wasn’t much into computers.  If he needed information, he’d pull out his cell phone. 

AJ checked sometimes, but his ego was so fragile that he was afraid he might read something bad about himself, so he mostly just listened when Nick or Kevin gave the reports.

Kevin only went there to get fan reactions to the concerts and the music.  He didn’t read any of the threads that were fan-generated, the Show Your Howie Love kind of thing. 

Nick tried not to read those, but he couldn’t seem to stay away from them.  It was like picking at a scab. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew it would make it worse, but you couldn’t help it.  Nick remembered the weirdest day ever.  It was the day he found out that the fans had given his penis a name.

Thor.

Like it was a separate person. 

It had taken Nick a while to figure it out.  He’d almost gone to the fellas to ask them but…Nick turned his eyes skyward…thank heaven he’d figured it out by himself first.  He’d never have lived it down if he’d told the other guys.

It was on a thread about one of the first concerts.  A fan on Not-Like-You had written that Thor was really dancing well tonight. 

Who was Thor? wondered Nick. 

He scrolled back up to the accompanying picture but could only see himself, AJ and Brian.  He scrolled down again and was dismayed to read further mentions. 

Thor was sure having a good time. 

During Larger than Life, Nick grabbed Thor. 

Who the hell was Thor? 

Nick closed his eyes and went over the song in his head, picturing the choreography.  Suddenly, he sat up straight and said, ‘Omigod’.  He knew he was blushing, and he was glad he was alone.  He quickly went back to the top and read each comment carefully, becoming more and more appalled with each new reference.

Nick hadn’t checked the Internet for nearly a week after that, and he’d stayed away from the fan comments for even longer.  But he’d slowly gotten back into checking every so often.  He didn’t know why. 

And fan encounter stories? 

They were even weirder.  Because the fans kept saying what the Boys thought.  Nick could understand a description of what they said and did, but how the hell could the fans believe they knew what the Boys were thinking?

The Boys had learned to be very careful about what they said because the poster put down every word that was said.  Then the other posters jumped on board to analyze it word by word.  It freaked Nick out, and every time he’d mention it to the fellas, Kevin would say, “Then stop reading the goddamn stuff!”

Nick looked down at the chart.  He was coming up on Redbird Creek.  He checked his watch.  It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but he was hungry.  He’d been up early…hell, he’d hardly been to bed.  The guidebook said that the water was really deep and that around the first bend was a really pretty lagoon area with lots of birds and other wildlife.

Yeah, thought Nick, I’ll pull in there.  That’s the kind of wildlife I want, birds and squirrels…not fans with cameras and cell phones.  I’ll anchor the boat, make something to eat, enjoy the birds and have a nap.   For a moment, he considered that maybe naps were becoming too much a part of his life.  But he’d learned on tour, they’d all learned, you slept when you could.  And he sure as hell hadn’t slept much last night.  He’d been too busy being out of his freakin’ mind!

Nick negotiated the turn into the creek.  He reminded himself that he wanted to be alone.  His entire purpose on coming on this trip was to be alone.  And that was what he was going to do.  Pete and Jo could do whatever wherever, and Nick didn’t care.  He hoped he never saw either of them again.

Nick moved the Lenore up the middle of the creek and around the bend.  Ahead of him, lying at anchor, was the Sunset Voyager.

Garbage.

What the…?

Garbage?

Nick mouthed the word back to Jo.  “Garbage?”

Jo nodded, and relief flooded her face.  Then the Sunset Voyager went around the bend in the river and disappeared from view.

Okay, so it was ‘garbage’.  What did that mean? 

Nick had been emptying the garbage the night before when he’d run across them in Savannah.  Was that what she meant? 

Nick thought back, trying to remember the exact sequence of events.

He’d heard Jo throwing up, and then Pete had come, and Jo said she had to get off the boat.  And then they took the garbage to the dumpster and went to dinner where she did that ‘Help me’ thing.

Oh shit, were they back to that?

Nick picked up the empty water bottles and took them below to the recycling bin.  He sighed.  Another freakin’ mystery. 

Mystery Girl.

Was that it? he wondered.  Jo was trying to be a mystery girl?

Nick went back on deck and grabbed the used paper plates and napkins.  He took them below and put them in the trash under the sink.

Mystery Girl.

Completely Fucked-up Mystery Girl was more like it, thought Nick.  He grabbed another bottle of water and went topside.  He looked around at the scenery.  It really was a beautiful spot here.  Nick had enjoyed Pete’s commentary on the wildlife.  And the sandwich was good too.

Nick laughed.  It must have been a hell of a good sandwich because Jo actually ate one.  A whole one.  And carrots to boot!

Not just a stupid protein milkshake.

Something scratched at the back of Nick’s mind.  Protein shakes.

She has to have this milkshake in the morning and at lunch.

That’s what Pete had said.  And yet, when Nick referred to the shakes the day before, Jo thought he meant ‘trembling’. 

And she said she’d been living on herbal tea.  She never mentioned the shakes.

And…and…

Nick’s head was spinning as he tried to put his thoughts together.  And…Pete said, “We haven’t had breakfast and decided to go straight to lunch.” 

Where were the shakes?

And what does it have to do with garbage?

Aw fuck it, thought Nick.  Tonight at St. Simon’s Island, he was just going to ask her.  In front of Pete.  Nick was sick of playing games.  And then he was going to bust out into the Atlantic and go like hell for the Keys.  This trip had seemed like such a good idea, and now it was turning out to be a big pain in the butt.

Nick climbed the ladder to the top deck.  He checked his charts and got ready to move out.  He looked around for his coastal guidebook but didn’t see it.  Then he remembered.  He’d taken it below to look for the number for the marina.  That’s right.  He’d been making notes in it while Pete and Jo had…

Nick froze.  He closed his eyes and brought the picture back before him.  Pete was putting the bag of leftover vegetables on the sandwich platter, and Jo was…

Nick flew down the stairs to the main deck.  Then he dropped below to the kitchen.  He pulled the trash bin out from under the sink. 

…Jo was picking up the garbage. 

Nick pulled the paper plates and napkins out of the bag.  He looked at each plate, turning it over.  There was nothing written on any of them.

Of course, there isn’t, you dummy!  How could she write anything on it?  She didn’t have a pencil with her.  And what was she going to do, write a secret message right in front of Pete?  He’d been there the whole time.

No, wait, that wasn’t right.  Well, yeah, it was right that Pete had been there the whole time but Jo hadn’t.  She’d gone back across to the Sunset Voyager to go to the bathroom.

Think! Nick ordered himself.  When Jo came back, did she have anything with her? 

Nick closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead.  Was she carrying anything? 

No, he decided, she wasn’t.  She had her hands in her pockets.

Nick picked up the first napkin.  He turned it over carefully.  There was nothing on it.  The second one was scrunched up in a ball, and there was nothing written on it either.

But there was something written on the little piece of paper that fell out of the napkin.

He’s trying to kill me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick stared at the words.

He’s trying to kill me.

What the fuck?

Now Nick was really confused.  If Jo thought Pete was trying to kill her, why was she still on the boat?  Nick wouldn’t stay on a boat for five seconds with someone he thought was trying to kill him.  And why all this stupid mystery message crap?  Why not just come right out and say it?

Either way, Nick decided, he wasn’t going to solve anything sitting here.  He grabbed the guidebook and went to the upper deck.  He started the boat and pulled up the anchor.  He steered the boat around and left the channel.  He moved slowly and steadily, wanting to catch up to the Sunset Voyagerbut not overtake it…just keep it in his sight until he figured out what he was going to do.

Nick moved the boat through the water, wondering again why Jo didn’t just jump overboard and swim to Nick’s boat if she thought her life was in danger.

And what would you have done then? Nick asked himself.

Nick thought about it as he negotiated a tricky channel with a lot of shoal markers.  What would he have done if Jo had suddenly leapt into the water and swum to the Lenore, crying out “He’s trying to kill me.”

Nick knew what he would have done.  He would have fished her out of the water and waited for Pete to bring the Sunset Voyager around and explain.

And what explanation would Pete have given him?

Nick thought about that one too.  And he figured he knew the answer.  Pete would have said that Jo was out of her fucking mind, that she was now paranoid and crazy to go along with anorexic and suicidal.

And Nick was sure that he would have believed Pete.  So far, he had seen a lot of evidence that Jordana Miles was not right in the head and had a host of problems.  All he’d seen of Pete was good humor and a caring personality.

But that didn’t matter, really.  It didn’t matter what the truth of the situation was, it only mattered what Jo thought.  If she believed that she was in danger, that had to be dealt with.

“It might not be safe.” 

Nick suddenly remembered what Pete had said when Nick offered to let Jo ride with him for a while.

Not safe for whom?  Jo?  Nick?

Was Pete afraid that she’d harm herself?  He’d alluded to that in their conversation about Jo’s illness.  They had discussed whether or not the actual disease was a suicide attempt.  And Pete had made a reference to ‘another bad time’.  Nick had assumed at the time that Pete meant a suicide attempt, but he didn’t question him on it.  It was more detail than Nick really wanted to have.

Poor Pete!  Here he was saddled with a girl he didn’t want and couldn’t be with the one he did want…and now the first one was accusing him of trying to kill her.

Except, of course, Pete didn’t know that, thought Nick. 

Or maybe he did.  Maybe Jo had thrown these crazy accusations in his face.  Maybe that’s why Pete missed Nick at Beaufort.  Nick remembered that Pete had said they’d anchored offshore for the night.  Maybe that was why.  Maybe Pete didn’t want Jo hurling this craziness around where people could hear.

And maybe…

And maybe…

Nick’s mind kicked into high gear.  Maybe it was…like a…what did they call it?...a vicious circle…yeah, that was it…a vicious circle.  Jo thinks Pete’s trying to harm her so he keeps her isolated so she can’t cause trouble for him…and that makes her think that he’s keeping her out of the way so he can kill her.

But why didn’t Pete just put her on a plane back to where she came from?

That would solve everybody’s problems, wouldn’t it?

Pete could send Jo home to Mickey and deliver the Sunset Voyager by himself.  He certainly didn’t need Jo’s help to do that.

Because of the time factor, maybe?  Nick thought about that.  Pete had mentioned several times that he had to get to Fort Lauderdale on time, or he’d lose out on some money.  Probably a bonus for an early delivery.

Maybe that was the problem.  Pete didn’t have time right now to deal with Jo’s craziness.  Maybe he just wanted to keep her from doing any serious damage and keep motoring on through.

But how much time would it take to stick her on a plane?

Nick pondered that for a moment.

And he came down on Pete’s side again. 

Maybe it would take quite a lot of time if Jo started yelling in public that Pete was trying to kill her.  Pete might spend a whole lot of time explaining that!

But what if Nick did it?  What if he put her on the plane?  Jo wouldn’t scream that Nick was trying to kill her…and she would be away from Pete, so she should be happy about that and she would be going home to Mickey.  So that was win/win.  In fact, it was win/win/win because then Nick could get rid of the whole scene and get out on the ocean by himself.

Yeah, he decided, that’s what he’d do.  Tonight, at the marina, he’d speak to Pete about it, explain what Jo was doing, in case Pete didn’t know.  Then he’d offer to take Jo off Pete’s hands and get her on a plane back to wherever she came from.

Nick to the rescue.

To the Rescue.

Maybe that’s what he should name the boat.  How could the fans and media misinterpret that?  Nick didn’t know, but he was sure they’d find a way.  They always did.

Thoughts of fans and the media and boats disappeared from Nick’s head abruptly.

He had caught up to the Sunset Voyager.

Nick went below as soon as he boarded the Lenore.  He grabbed his guitar from the sofa and went back on deck.  He was tired, and he knew he would sleep well tonight, but he wanted to unwind a little first.  He didn’t want to go to bed on a full stomach.  He would just have stupid dreams.

Nick ran his fingers down the strings and hummed a tune.  Yeah, he’d just sit here for a bit and then turn in.  He sure as hell wasn’t going to stay up all night making a complete ass of himself staring at another boat.  That was for damned sure!

“Nick?”

Nick looked up from his guitar.  Pete was standing on the dock.

“Hey, Pete!  What’s up?”

“Have you seen Jo?”

Nick set down the guitar and stood up.  “Jo?  No, not since dinner.  Why?”

“She’s not on the boat.”

Nick furrowed his brow.  He looked at Pete.  Pete seemed concerned but not scared or angry.

“Maybe she went for a walk,” suggested Nick.

“Maybe,” said Pete, looking around him.  “I just thought that maybe she came here…when she wasn’t on the boat, I thought maybe she came here.”

“Nope,” said Nick, “I haven’t seen her.  Do you want me to come with you…to look for her?”

“No,” said Pete, “that’s okay.  You’re right.  She’s probably just gone for a walk.  I’ll head back.  She’s probably already there.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry to bother you.”  Pete turned away.

Nick stood for a moment watching the other man depart.  He looked around him at the other boats.  Then he picked up his guitar and went below.

Nick carefully placed the guitar in the case and snapped it shut.  He laid the case gently on the sofa.  Then he straightened up.

“Okay, Jo,” he said, “you can come out now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the second bedroom slid open.  Jordana walked slowly up the hallway, stopping just at the edge of the living room.

“Close the curtains,” she whispered, “in case he comes back.”

“I never close the curtains,” replied Nick.  “That would look suspicious if I did it now.  Jordana, what’s going on?”

Jo backed into the shadows of the hall.  “Did you get my message?  In the garbage?”

“Yes, I did.  You said that he’s trying to kill you.  I’m guessing by that you mean Pete.”

“Of course, I mean Pete,” snapped Jo.  “Who else would I mean?”  Her voice softened.  “I’m sorry, Nick, I’m just so scared.”

“Well, if you’re so scared, why don’t you leave?  Why don’t you just say that you want to go home?”

“I did, but he won’t let me.”

“What do you mean?  Why wouldn’t he let you go home?  Why do you think he’s trying to kill you?  How’s he trying to kill you?”  Nick’s frustration was making his face red.  He sat down in the leather chair closest to the hall.

In answer, Jordana reached her hand up to her head and pulled on her hair.  She extended her hand to Nick and opened it.  Nick stared at the strands of hair.

“What the…?”

“He tried to poison me,” said Jordana, matter-of-factly.

“Poison you?  What?  How?”

“The herbal tea,” said Jo.  “He kept making it for me.  He said it would make me feel better.  But it didn’t.  It made me sicker.  And now this…”  She nodded at the hair in her hand.  Then she sank to the floor with her back against the wall.

Nick tried to think of some calming words, some way to get through to her, to get her over her delusions.

“But,” he began, “might that just be a side effect of…you know…?”

“A side effect of what?” asked Jo.

“Your…illness,” said Nick.

“Of course, it’s a side effect,” said Jo, tartly.  “I’m not going to die because my hair fell out.  I’m going to die because…”

“Go ahead,” said Nick, gently, “say it.  Don’t you think it’s a better idea to talk about it than to try and keep it a secret?”

“I am trying to talk about it,” said Jo, her eyes widening in exasperation.

“It’s okay,” said Nick, encouragingly, “I know the background.”

Jo’s face lost what little color it had.  “What background?”

“Pete told me all about it…all about you…”

Jo took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Nick,” she said, as if she were talking to a five-year-old, “what did Pete tell you about me?”

Nick sighed.  He really didn’t want to do this.  “Your illness.  He told me about your illness.”

“What illness?”  Jo’s teeth were clenched.  “I don’t have an illness.”

“C’mon, Jo, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.  It happens to lots of people.”

“Listen to me, Nick.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I don’t have any illness.  What did he tell you?”

“Where were you the last couple of months?” asked Nick, suddenly changing tactics.

“I told you.  I was in Europe.  Nick, what did he say?”

“Where in Europe?”

Jo raised her voice.  “I told you…France, mostly.  Nick, what did he say??!!”

Nick tried desperately to think of a question that would trip her up and force her to admit the truth, but he couldn’t, so he said, “He said you weren’t in Europe.  He said you were in rehab.”

It was not what Jo was expecting.  She looked confused.  “Rehab?!  Like…drugs?”

“No, not drugs,” said Nick.  “Food.”

“Food?  Food rehab?  What is that?”

Nick looked at Jo’s face.  Either she was the greatest actress in the world, or she was in such complete denial that she’d never climb out.

Or maybe she was telling the truth.

“He said you have an eating disorder.  He said you were in a clinic in upstate New York.  He said you have never been out of the country.”

Jo looked horrified.  “And you believed him?!”

“Well,” said Nick, suddenly defensive.  “There was a lot of evidence…like you were throwing up all the time…and you weren’t eating…and you were…um…you were…getting skinnier, and you kept changing what was wrong with you…you know…you said ‘jet lag’ and ‘seasick’ and ‘the flu’…no, no, you didn’t say that one, Pete did, but you said it was your period…”

“I did not!” said Jordana, hotly.

“Well, you said ‘hormones’” retorted Nick.  “I thought that’s what you meant.”

They stared at each other.  Neither knew what to say next.  Jordana was trying to picture Nick’s image of her.  She didn’t like what she saw.

“Okay,” she said finally.  “So Pete told you I have an eating disorder to cover up the fact that he was poisoning me.  And now that I won’t eat or drink anything he gives me, he’ll have to find some other way to do me in…but he has to get rid of the fly in the ointment first.”

“What’s that?” asked Nick.

“You,” said Jo.  “He has to get rid of you.  And, omigod, he’s done that, hasn’t he?  You’re heading out on the ocean tomorrow.  You’ll get miles ahead of us.  He won’t have to worry about running into you anymore.  Then he can kill me and get rid of my body, and no one will even know I was on the boat."  Jordana was trembling now, and her voice was rising hysterically.

“But why, Jo?  You still haven’t told me why.  Why do you think he wants to kill you?"  Nick still couldn’t see her logic.

Tears began to trickle down Jo’s face.  “Because,” she said sadly, “because he killed Mickey.”

DAY SIX – St. Simon’s Island, GA

Jo never said anything when she crept into Nick’s room an hour later.  She just put her blanket and pillow on the floor and lay down on them.

Nick was vaguely aware that someone had entered the room.  He thought he should probably wake up and deal with the situation, but he really, really didn’t want to.  He wanted to stay asleep.  He made an unintelligible sound.

“Nick, I’m sorry,” whispered Jo.  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Tha’s ‘kay,” muttered Nick, fatigue slurring his words.

“I was getting creeped out, and I thought I’d feel safer sleeping here.  Go back to sleep.  Don’t mind me.

As much as Nick wanted to do just that, chivalry kicked in.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, Jo,” he said, without opening his eyes.

“Sure I can,” replied Jo.  “It’s no problem.  Go back to sleep.”

Nick didn’t answer for a moment.  When he did, he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t gone back to sleep for a bit. 

“No, Jo.”

“Please, Nick.  I won’t bother you.  I just don’t want to be alone.”  Jo’s voice broke on the last word.

Nick pushed himself over to the far side of the bed, not an easy thing to do in a bed that’s not rectangular.  He held up the edge of the duvet.  “C’mon.  Get in.”

“No, it’s okay.  I’m fine here.”

Nick’s patience wore thin, and he growled.  “Hurry up, and get in here.  I want to go back to sleep.”

Jo stood up and crawled onto the bed, dragging her pillow with her.  She left the blanket on the floor.  Nick dropped the duvet over her and turned his back to her.

“Goodnight, Nick,” whispered Jo.

There was no response.  Nick was asleep.  Jo turned her back to him and pulled the pillow down under her head.  In a moment, she was asleep too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jo didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard, “Jo, wake up.”

She felt Nick’s strong arm reach out and wrap around her middle.  She opened her eyes but could see little in the dim light.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Someone’s on the boat,” said Nick.  “Move over here.  Slide your body up against mine.”

Jo didn’t waste time asking questions.  Through the narrow windows, she could see the bobbing light of a flashlight.  She slid back against Nick, molding her body to his, stretching her legs out along his, tucking her head under his shoulder.  Then she closed her eyes and prayed.

Nick formed his body into an arc and pulled Jo into it.  He moved over her, thankful that she was so thin.  She fit up against him, and when he hunched over her, he hid her completely.  At least, he hoped so.

Nick had wakened immediately when the intruder stepped onto the boat.  His eyes flew open, and he followed the sounds of the footsteps on the back deck.  He noticed the flashlight beam and realized that whoever was out there meant business.  Nick guessed that someone was Pete.

If it was, that meant Pete hadn’t believed Jo’s phone call.  He didn’t think she was at a hotel.  He thought she was here on the Lenore…with Nick.  The fact that Pete was absolutely right did nothing to ease Nick’s mind.  It meant that no matter what the truth was, Nick was now a co-conspirator on the side of Jo.

Nick pulled her close.  “Keep still,” he whispered, placing his left leg at an angle and stretching out his arm, hoping to hide her body. 

Jo flattened herself to the mattress and sheltered up against Nick, trying to be one with him.

Nick pulled the duvet over Jo’s head, hoping she would still be able to breathe.  He could feel the intruder moving along the far side of the boat.  The steps stopped about midway, and Nick knew that Pete…there was no point in thinking of him as an anonymous intruder, it was Pete!...Nick knew he was shining the flashlight into the guest bedroom.

Nick had a vision of the layers of clothing Jo had been wearing earlier and wondered what she’d done with them.  Then he remembered.  They were in the hallway where he had told her to leave them.  They would be out of sight no matter where Pete looked in the window.

Jo herself was another matter.  Nick hoped she would be out of sight as well.  For once in his life, he hoped that someone would think he was just fat.

“Here he comes,” whispered Nick, as he heard Pete move to the front deck. He felt Jo stiffen beneath him and hold her breath.

When the light beams began to play over the bed, Nick closed his eyes.  It was hard to keep them closed.  The temptation to sneak a peek from under his eyelids was almost overwhelming, but he fought the urge.  He forced himself to stay still and breathe evenly.

Nick’s blood ran cold as he heard Pete try and lift the hatch over the bed.  What if Pete had something more out there than just a flashlight?  Nick searched his memory.  Had he locked that hatch?  He sagged with relief when he heard the click and realized that he had.

The footsteps moved slowly along the gunwale right by Nick’s bed.  They moved very slowly and determinedly along the rail.  Nick knew Pete was taking his time, playing the flashlight over the bed…looking for Jo…looking for evidence that Nick was a liar and a false friend.

Up to this point, Nick had been the innocent bystander, caught up by accident in the drama unfolding between the other two.  But now he was in it up to his neck.  As much as he had believed Pete…and Nick still wasn’t sure of the veracity of Jo’s tale…Nick had reacted against him, hiding Jo and lying to Pete about her whereabouts.

Nick kept his eyes firmly closed and prayed for daylight.  He knew things would look better then.  They had to.  They were looking pretty fucked up right now!

Pete moved up the side of the boat and back onto the back deck.  Nick could hear him moving around, and he heard the rattle of the door handle and the hatch cover.  Even though Nick was absolutely sure that he had locked both, a frisson of doubt tingled up his spine.  He sucked in a breath of air and held it, not daring to move.

Nick didn’t release the breath until he felt Pete leave the boat.  Then he slowly exhaled.  He felt Jordana’s body relax beneath him.

“Not yet,” he whispered, without moving his lips.  He felt her tense up again.

Nick counted slowly to sixty.  Then he did it again.  He was afraid to open his eyes in case he saw Pete staring in the window at him.  Nick was sure the man had left the boat, but he had no idea what he’d done then.

Finally, Nick opened his eyes a fraction of an inch.  He could see nothing.  His back was to the window.  There were no flashlight beams dancing around, but that didn’t mean that Pete wasn’t out there waiting for movement or voices.

“Can you breathe okay?” Nick whispered to Jo.

“Yes,” she replied, without moving.

“Then let’s stay this way for awhile,” suggested Nick.  “Just in case.”

Jo whimpered softly.  Nick realized that she really was afraid of Pete.  Nick wondered again if she had cause to be.  Because he knew now, if Jo had cause to be afraid of Pete, then so did Nick.  It wasn’t a comforting thought.

They lay together silently, ears straining to hear any sound, their nerve endings alert for any movement on the boat that did not belong there.  Eventually, they both fell into a fitful sleep.  They both woke up several times during the rest of the night, but neither moved from the position.

Nick woke up finally because his right hand was asleep.  The tingly pins and needles feeling would not be ignored.  Nick could see the first grey light of dawn seeping through the windows.  He opened his eyes and stretched his neck.  He swiveled it one way and then the other.  When he moved it toward the window, he was almost afraid to look. 

There was no one there.

Of course, there’s no one there, you dolt, he told himself.

Nick lifted the duvet off himself and slid out of the bed.  Jo moaned softly and curled into a ball.  Nick tucked the corners of the duvet around her and then reached up and pulled the navy curtains across the windows.

There!  She was hidden again.

Nick went to the head and then moved to the living room.  He set up the coffee maker and looked around the room nonchalantly.  What would Pete have seen through the windows last night? 

Nothing.  Just the furniture and appliances and that ugly sailboat picture.

And…

Oh shit! thought Nick.  Why don’t I ever learn to clean up after myself?

Sitting on the table in the living room was an empty beer bottle.  Beside it was an empty plastic water bottle.  Beverages for two!

The coffee maker gurgled to a stop.  Nick grabbed a mug out of the cupboard.  He poured himself a cup of reality.  As he sipped the hot liquid, he mulled over his options.  If Jo was right, then Pete was a danger.  That meant that authorities had to be notified.  If Jo was wrong, that meant that some apologizing and face-saving had to be done by Nick.  Hopefully, Pete wouldn’t be too pissed and take it to the media.

Either way, it meant that Nick wasn’t getting out onto the ocean just yet.

He checked the bedroom door, making sure it was closed.  Then he moved to the hatchway.  He unlocked the door and unbolted the hatch cover.  He slowly slid the hatch back.  Then he opened the door and climbed the stairs, peering around innocently.  There was no one there.

In fact, there was no one anywhere.  It was just past six in the morning, and everyone else at the marina was asleep.  Nick didn’t see a light on anywhere.  He climbed to the bridge and looked around, but he didn’t see any movement on the Sunset Voyager.

Nick sipped his coffee thoughtfully and stared at the boat.  Now what?

He guessed Jo had the answer to that.  He went below to wake her and hear her explanation.