And won’t be making any time soon.
Taking off we sail into the night.
If there’s one thing I did learn from Jenson it’s how to sail. I always thought that ‘skill’ was something I’d never need, but I guess the rich snob was right. ‘You never know when it’s going to come in handy.’
You sure don’t. But I do know a chilled bottle of champagne is always good to have in hand, that’s for sure.
Popping the top I pour us two flutes.
“We did it,” she says.
“Give it a few more minutes until we’re in international waters, and then we’ve made it.”
“And the final part?” she asks.
“You sure you’re ready to go through with it?”
She nods. “I’ll do anything to be with you.”
I kiss her hard and then wrap my arms around her as we look off into the distance, the moonlight illuminating the Pacific as we sail south, to Todos Santos, which is just an hour north of Cabo. But that’s not the final destination.
That’s just the beginning.
6
Juniper
“You’ve never tried tequila before?” Jack asks, pouring some into two shot glasses that look to be handmade out of clay.
“Not just tequila. Anything.”
“George Clooney thinks a shot will help you relax,” he says, holding up the Casamigos bottle, the brand started by Clooney, Cindy Crawford’s husband, and a third man.
“I actually don’t feel seasick at all.”
“I wasn’t talking about the ocean,” Jack says, offering me a wolfish grin as he hands me a shot glass.
Our glasses touch and he raises his for a toast. “To our plan, and our first sail. Twenty-two hours, but we made it.”
“To us,” I say, tipping back the alcohol and feeling the burn. But a second later it feels so good.
Suddenly there’s a knock on the door.
“That must be Javier.” Jack moves to the door, opens it, and then gives the man a fist bump. After a quick greeting, he says, “¿Tienes los documentos, amigo?”
“Sí. Claro,” the man says, sticking his hand in his back pocket and retrieving two new passports.
Jack inspects the two travel documents and then stuffs his own hand in his pocket, pulling out a big wad of fifties and handing them to the man.
“¿Y el barco?”
“Si,” Jack says. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The man turns and leaves and Jack shuts the door.
“We’re Mexican now?”
“Yes, we are.” He pauses, opening up my passport to the information page. “Senorita Juanita Badosa.”