Cuban Contraband

By Ben Cooper

Retired FBI agent Alexander Christian is enjoying the good life in his Texas beach house. During a chance encounter, he learns of a young Cuban girl who was smuggled into the US and has gone missing. He has a feeling she's become a victim of human trafficking and offers to look for her.

To locate the missing girl, Christian mus

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heritage Productions, Ltd.
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780966354812

Ben Cooper

Ben grew up on a family farm in Western Pennsylvania and has been around animals all of his life. He graduated from Penn State University with an Agricultural Science degree and worked over 30 years with the Maryland Department of Agriculture as an Ag Specialist. Ben graduated from the Cornerstone Bible Institute in 1996. He also teaches beekeeping classes at a local college and mentors his students from those classes.He is an award-winning author and enjoys speaking about God's marvelous creative works, particularly how observing the plants and animals gives testimony that we are fearfully and wonderfully made by a loving God. Ben serves his local church in camping ministries and has been on several short-term mission trips outside of the U.S. He and his wife have five adult children who were all home schooled. They reside in the mountainous region of Southern Pennsylvania where he writes and enjoys working with his bees.

Book preview

For Jody and Robin

1

Briana Diaz stood on the dock, looking at the boat. It was an older boat. Its once beautiful teak decks were now grey and cracking from exposure to the relentless tropical sun. The blue trim had faded and the Gelcoat was peeling away in chunks. The weathered cabin cruiser was bigger than the boats in her village on the north side of Cuba, but it was smaller than Briana expected. It did not seem big enough to get her and the ten other girls standing on the dock to America. The idea of crossing the Gulf of Mexico in such a small boat scared her. Leaving everyone and everything for a chance at a better life in the United States was scary, but crossing an ocean in that boat was truly frightening. Still, the young woman was determined. The man who contacted her promised she would have a job and a place to live when she arrived in Houston.

Bring nothing to the boat but a small purse with personal items, he had told her. Upon arrival, someone will meet you, and they will take care of you. The man added that he would reduce the usual five-thousand US dollar smuggling fee to one-thousand if she would carry something when she arrived in Texas and deliver it as instructed.

It is too good to be true, Briana thought. But it was worth the gamble for the nineteen-year-old Cuban girl hoping to start a new life in America. So she took a deep breath and followed the others up the ramp and onto the small cruiser.

The few small lights on the dock at the west end of Cuba soon faded into darkness. The boat had been at sea barely an hour when the scruffy crew ordered the girls to line up on the afterdeck. All were young – in their teens and early twenties – and all were attractive. Briana Diaz was beautiful.

Hola, said the man who appeared to be in charge. I’m your captain, he continued in Spanish. Gorgonio and Nestor are the crew. They will take care of you. I suggest you do what they say. With that, the captain left the aft deck.

Gorgonio, a large, unkempt man, said in Spanish, We are smuggling you into the United States. To do this, you must, as the captain said, do exactly as we tell you. If you are unwilling to do this, Cuba is about ten miles that way. He pointed into the darkness. I suggest you jump now and swim slowly to conserve energy.

Most of the girls kept their eyes focused on the ground, only taking occasional glances at each other. Doing as the big man asked should not be difficult. Swimming back to Cuba was not an option.

We don’t plan on getting busted. To make sure none of you are working with the feds, are wired, or have a hidden phone, I’m going to search you, Gorgonio walked straight to Briana Diaz. She wore a light purple t-shirt, white shorts, and sandals. Raise your arms.

Although Briana understood what he said, it took a second for the command to register. The delay was too long for Gorgonio. He grabbed the petite girl by the wrists and jerked her arms up. I said raise your arms! Keep them up.

Gorgonio patted Briana down, beginning under her arms and moving to her breasts. Instinctively, she dropped her arms and swatted the man’s hands away.

You must have something to hide. Gorgonio held both of her hands and groped her. Nothing there. Maybe you put something inside you.

Briana helplessly struggled as Gorgonio slid his hand down the front of her shorts.

Gorgonio! Stop. Don’t touch the goods, Nestor yelled in English.

Gorgonio sneered at the fellow crewman but removed his hand from inside her shorts. He then firmly rubbed her crotch and butt. I will have this one before we reach Texas. I don’t care what nobody says.

Briana spoke fluent English – a tidbit she hadn’t shared with anyone on the boat – so hearing Nestor refer to the girls as the goods or that Gorgonio would have her was particularly disturbing.

Gorgonio moved to the next girl, who raised her arms and allowed the disgusting man to fondle her in the guise of a pat-down. When he finished, she walked over to Briana.

Do you think it’s too late to jump? Briana asked her.

The girl looked out at the dark sea. Maybe not. Worst case, we’d drown.

Briana looked at Gorgonio, who was taking great pleasure in his search of the remaining girls. Drowning may not be the worst case, she said.

2

Reymundo Cruz sat on the aft deck of his newly purchased fifty-five-foot Cheoy Lee Trawler enjoying a cold beer. Not only was the beer refreshing, but it calmed his nerves a bit. He’d just paid seventy-five thousand dollars for a boat easily worth three times as much.

He had answered a Craigslist ad, assuming the listed price was a misprint. A trawler was not what he was looking for, but if he could get it for a reasonable price, he would grab it. The seller explained that the price was not a misprint. He was selling the boat cheap because the proceeds were going to his soon-to-be-ex-wife.

It only took a few hours to inspect the boat and complete the transaction. To transfer the title, register, and pay the taxes at the Broward County Motor Vehicles took just as long. Each step had gone smoothly, but Reymundo could not shake the feeling he’d been conned.

The seller gave a good enough reason for selling the boat cheap. All the paperwork seemed in order. The slip was even prepaid for three months. One red flag was that the deal had to be done right then. If not, there were other buyers lined up waiting for the opportunity to buy the big Cheoy Lee. The second red flag was that deals like this didn’t happen to guys like Reymundo Cruz, fishing charter deckhand.

What the hell, he said aloud to himself. A slight grin turned into a wide smile as he admired his boat.

What the hell is right, said a female voice behind him.

A slender woman stood in the door to the aft deck. She looked to be in her early thirties, no more than a couple of years older than the twenty-eight-year-old Reymundo. Blond hair, tanned legs, small breasts. Her eyes were as blue as the Caribbean. In a floral sundress with spaghetti straps that hung loosely from her shoulders, she was stunning. Reymundo suspected she was not wearing a bra but didn’t want to stare in an attempt to confirm it.

What are you doing on my boat? the woman asked.

It’s my boat. Would you like a beer?

She scoffed at him. No, I do NOT want a beer. What do you mean, ‘your boat’?

I just bought it.

The woman’s demeanor softened slightly. Oh. I knew my husband was selling it. I didn’t think it would be so fast. Her eyes welled with tears as she glanced around the yacht.

Yeah, I closed on it earlier today. How ‘bout that beer?

Can I ask how much you paid for it?

Seventy-five, Reymundo replied. He knew the number might not sit well with the woman, but he wasn’t going to lie. She would likely be happy that the boat was sold since she’d be getting the money from the sale, but he was sure the price would tick her off.

The next few minutes were a blur to Reymundo as the woman unleashed a fury of F-bombs. What the Fuck? Motherfucker. Seventy-five thousand fucking dollars. Are you fucking kidding me? There were more.

The woman calmed down slightly when Reymundo asked again if she’d like a beer. That started another two-minute cuss-a-thon. She paced across the deck, haranguing him. Reymundo could have told her it was not his fault and to get off his case, but he rather enjoyed watching the beautiful woman strut across the aft deck of his new boat.

When the soon-to-be-divorced goddess paused to catch her breath and maybe think of additional ways to use the F word, Reymundo said, I saw the ad for the boat on Craigslist and paid the full asking price. It’s obvious you were expecting more. I’m sorry.

I don’t blame you. You got a hell of a deal on my boat. You’d have been crazy not to jump on it. How ‘bout that beer?

The woman guzzled several beers between obscenities directed at her husband. Reymundo was surprised that such a classy-looking woman could have such a foul mouth – even more so when she took him by the hand and asked if he’d seen the queen-size bed in the captain’s cabin.

The beautiful blond was out of her sundress before they made it to the cabin­ – and she was not wearing a bra. She slowly slid her fingers under the sides of her panties and pushed them off, all the while murmuring something to the effect that since her husband had fucked her, she was going to fuck Reymundo. The caveat was that she would tell her ex what she’d done – every graphic detail.

All Reymundo’s past girlfriends were, at minimum, cute. Most were considered attractive, but none were in the league of the woman who had led him to the captain’s stateroom with the sole intention of having sex. She was exquisite. She reminded him of a professional cheerleader – only older, with less makeup and smaller breasts.

The fact she promised to tell her soon-to-be-ex about their exploits didn’t deter Reymundo. If anything came of it, he would deal with it. This was the chance of a lifetime. He wouldn’t worry about a man who may or may not give a shit about the woman he’s divorcing having sex with the guy who had bought his boat. He might say, Well, she got fucked twice.

As soon as her clothes were off, the beautiful woman wondered if her impulsive decision to have revenge sex with her boat’s new owner was a great idea. He was tall, just over six feet, broad-shouldered with biceps like hammers, and fair-skinned, his arms and legs darkened by years in the South Florida sun. He looked more Irish than Puerto Rican. If grabbing her clothes and running entered her mind, it was quickly replaced by the feeling of pure pleasure.

Reymundo wanted the tryst to last. It would not be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am affair. He was going to please this woman as long as possible. All night, he hoped.

As daylight began to fill the small cabin – just large enough for the queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and a small dresser – Reymundo was awakened by his overnight companion returning from the head. She sat on the edge of the bed.

This was a wonderful evening. I can’t remember when I’ve had a better one, but I should be going, she said. Oh, don’t worry, I’m not saying a word to my husband.

Reymundo caressed the woman’s perky breast. By the way, I’m Reymundo. They call me Rey.

I’m Jana. She blushed slightly and held out her hand to shake his.

The pleasure was all mine. Reymundo ran his finger around her pink nipple. Do you have to leave?

Maybe I can stay a little longer, she said, giving him a lascivious leer. She crawled back into the bed and on top of him.

Time passed much too quickly. Jana said, Rey, this has been great, really, but I do need to leave. I’d like to come back sometime, if that’s okay.

Of course it’s okay. Come anytime.

I’d love to come again, Jana said, handing him a card with her phone number. Call me.

Reymundo placed Jana’s card on a small nightstand next to the bed and walked her out. He wondered how long he should wait before he called and invited her back to the boat. Or should he ask her on a date? A date would be expensive – this was not a girl who would be happy with a cold beer and some peel-and-eat shrimp. This was a stone crab woman. And not just any stone crab, she’d want colossal stone crab claws – the expensive ones.

As much as Reymundo loved his new boat, a sensation attributed in no small part by last night with Jana, common sense dictated he should sell it. He knew he could flip it for a nice profit, easily double his money. Three months of slip fees were already paid so he only needed to buy insurance, but he was in no hurry to decide what to do with the big trawler.

Reymundo spent the next two days cleaning and inspecting the Cheoy Lee. The engines ran flawlessly and all the electronics worked properly. He could find no evidence of dry rot. He checked the transom and found the boat’s name, Miss Jana. If he saw the name when he initially inspected the boat, it hadn’t registered. Now it did. His mind wandered to the beautiful Miss Jana. He was tempted to give her a call but assumed she was in Palm Beach, maybe riding around with some hot guy in his Bentley, Porsche, or Ferrari, all of which were abundant in Palm Beach.

Reymundo had positioned himself at his five o’clock location, the aft deck, and was on his second beer, thinking about Miss Jana – the woman, not the boat – when he was interrupted by two young men on the dock, yelling up at him. He wondered if Jana’s husband sent them to explain that he should keep his distance from her. He hoped it would be a verbal warning and not turn physical.

Once Reymundo got a good look at the two men, his worry turned to bewilderment. They didn’t look like tough guys sent to deliver a message. Both were white – lily-white – and wore khaki shorts with pressed polo shirts and new boat shoes. They looked to be in their late teens, maybe early twenties.

Is this your boat? one of the young men asked.

It is, Reymundo replied. He didn’t mention he’d only owned it a few days. What can I do for you?

We’re looking to charter a yacht for a weekend cruise. Do you do charters?

Although it wasn’t something he’d considered, it was an option. Yes, I do.

Cool. How much?

It depends on what you’re looking for. Are you interested in a half-day, full-day, weekend? Were you looking to tour the Miami waterways or did you have a destination in mind? Come aboard, we can talk about it.

It was apparent the men had never been on a yacht before when they gazed at the main salon, mouths agape. Both guys gladly accepted a beer and they all moved out to the deck to discuss the charter.

The taller of the two went into great detail about how they had recently graduated from Boston College, moved to Florida, and landed great jobs in the mortgage banking industry. A frat brother from Boston was getting married, and they wanted to show him a great time. The party was still several weeks away, but they wanted to have a cruise booked. They’d like to get on the boat on a Friday morning, cruise for the weekend, and return Monday morning.

Knowing what was happening in the Florida real estate market, Reymundo figured these guys were rolling in cash. If you stay until Monday morning, that’s four days. I’d have to charge you for a full day, even if you depart early on Monday.

The details didn’t faze the men. Reymundo told them he would supply everything but booze. He didn’t want to be responsible for alcohol. It could be a pain in the ass providing copious amounts of various alcoholic beverages. If they wanted a bareboat charter, he’d drive the boat, but they would be responsible for everything else.

The men wanted the all-inclusive, minus the booze option. Reymundo knew an equivalent fishing charter was around fourteen hundred dollars for a ten-hour day. At that price, he stood to make a decent profit. To be safe, he rounded it up. Fifteen hundred dollars per day for four days. Six thousand for the charter. Cash. They didn’t balk.

The shorter of the two mortgage bankers stumbled for words. Um, what about women on board?

That’s fine. This boat’s fifty-five feet, but it only has three guest cabins. It sleeps six comfortably. Any more than that and it will be tight.

I think what my friend is asking is...uh, could you maybe have girls on board that, I don’t know, look like crew, but in skimpy outfits and provide like...other services?

Reymundo said he could find such a crew, but there would be an additional charge of five hundred per crew, and tips would be required for any service above and beyond regular shipboard duties.

The guys pondered their options, likely attempting to determine how many girls six guys would need for four days. When asked about the tipping, Reymundo said it would be strictly between the charterer and crew. The amount would depend on the service. Also, he added, the girls would demand some respect.

For two guys who fancied themselves big-time mortgage bankers, Reymundo felt they seemed wimpish when it came to asking about hookers.

We were thinking something along the lines of a strip club, the taller of the two said. The girls might end up naked and flirting with the guys, like sitting on their laps and performing lap dances, but they would find a cabin when it came to actual sex. I think most of us, except Paul, the groom, want to have sex. Five of us for four days, do you think they could handle it?

Isn’t that their job? his friend asked.

I suppose it is. I really don’t know. Reymundo knew about hooking fish, not hookers. He was apprehensive about turning his boat into a floating den of iniquity.

The frat boys, almost wetting themselves with excitement, agreed to pay for four extra female crew. Any extracurricular activities would require an advance tip. The last thing Reymundo wanted to let the guys know was that if anyone got drunk and got out of line, either with the girls or the crew or messed up his boat, he would take them out and feed them to the sharks. He popped a fist into his open hand, flexing his biceps in the process to drive the point home. The boys got the message. Although they were only a few years younger than Reymundo both replied with a loud and clear, Yes sir.

3

Boats make noise. Wind and tides move the vessel ever so slightly, causing creaking and movement, generating various strange sounds. The sound that woke Reymundo was not a typical boat sound but a man-made sound. Footsteps. Close footsteps.

The boat was dark. Dark enough that Reymundo knew the intruder wouldn’t be able to see him slide to the side of the queen bed and reach for his 9MM semi-automatic pistol.

Hey Rey, you said you were going to call me, said the feminine voice in the darkness.

Although he’d only been with her one night, and they hadn’t talked much, he recognized the silky sweetness of Jana’s voice. He slid the small Ruger pistol back into its hiding place and sat up in bed, still unable to see anything more than a silhouette of the intruder.

Well...uh...I was going to call you, but—

Yeah, sure, she interrupted. But you didn’t. I thought we had something.

We did. I mean, we do.

Oh yeah. Well, you’re going to have to prove it to me. You’re going to have to make it up to me for not calling too. Scoot over.

Before Reymundo could object – which he had no intention of doing – or ask why she was there or how she got in, Jana removed her clothes and slid in next to him.

As it had been the week earlier, the sex was great. Relaxed, holding Jana close, Reymundo told her about the charter he’d arranged. To not sound like a pimp, he said he’d gotten caught up in the negotiations and wanted to please his new clients. It was a few weeks away, and he still had not taken the boat out of the slip, didn’t have a crew, and didn’t have any girls lined up.

Jana kissed Reymundo on the lips and said, I can help you. Let’s talk about it in the morning.

Reymundo beamed as he held Jana in his arms. Sleep came easy.

In the owner’s cabin, the four porthole windows – two large aft, two small to starboard – were not conducive to natural light. The sun was well above the horizon when daylight began to illuminate the cabin. Reymundo woke, focused, and looked at Jana, still asleep beside him. She looked angelic, the polar opposite of the woman whose language the day they met would have made a sailor blush, or who took him downstairs and made mad, passionate love to him. Although he didn’t believe in love at first sight – or second sight – this woman had a serious effect on him, F-bombs and all.

He eased out of bed, put on shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, then slipped out of the cabin, quietly closing the door behind him. He tiptoed up the steep steps to the main salon and across to the galley. The Keurig coffee maker was full of water and ready to brew. It and the cup assortment had come with the boat. Keurig coffee was a luxury he could not afford while saving to buy a boat.  The morning calling for something special, he selected a Jamaican Me Crazy Wolfgang Puck K cup.

With a freshly brewed cup in hand, Reymundo walked gently to the aft deck, which was directly above the owner’s cabin. He knew from experience how easily sound transmitted through the floor. He sat in what had become his favorite of the canvas chairs populating the deck and took a sip of the coffee. Not bad, he said softly to himself.

Miss Jana was docked near the end of a row of boats at the marina. Being on the end and sitting on the back of the boat afforded a nice view of the channel and a large lake that led to the intercoastal canal. The other boats along the row, all backed into their slips, had views of the marina, the restaurant, or one of the numerous boutique shops along the pier.

As he drank his coffee, Reymundo thought about Jana. She was stunning and quite charming when she wasn’t berating him over the price of the boat. There was something about her. No woman had ever affected him the way Jana did. She seemed to like him, or at least she enjoyed sleeping with him. He could not help but wonder what her feelings were. She knew he practically stole her boat for seventy-five thousand dollars and had the money to pay for it. Maybe she assumed he was rich, and that was why she came back.

What will happen when she figures out he’s a deckhand on a fishing boat who scrimped and saved for years to buy the boat? Should he tell her the truth? That he was originally from Puerto Rico and had moved to Miami when he was twelve in search of the American dream. He had finished high school – barely. College not in his future, he started working as a deckhand on charter boats out of Miami when he was sixteen.

She was bound to find out sooner or later. As soon as she saw Reymundo’s car, an old Toyota Corolla, she would have a good idea he was not wealthy. Not even close. He considered telling her the old Corolla was a classic and quite valuable.

Reymundo convinced himself that his relationship with Jana would be short-lived. As soon as she heard the truth about the fishing charter deckhand, she’d be off to South Beach or Miami Beach or Palm Beach. Anywhere but Reymundo Beach.

The reality was depressing, but it was what it was. Reymundo made up his mind. He would tell Jana his story and let the chips fall where they may. Having already told her about the charter he booked should have given her a clue. Knowing he was about to be heartbroken, he stood, shoulders slumped, and softly walked toward the galley. As he entered the salon, Jana was coming up the stairs.

Good morning. She was wearing denim shorts and a crop top. Her blond hair was tied in a ponytail. She was breathtaking.

Good morning. Reymundo could barely catch his breath.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. How ‘bout a cup of coffee? Are there still some K cups in the galley?

Forgetting the boat had been hers, he was somewhat embarrassed drinking her coffee. Yes, I was just getting a refill.

Sit, Jana said and took the cup from his hand. I’ll get it.

A few minutes later, Jana appeared on the aft deck with two cups of coffee. She handed one to Reymundo, pulled a canvas deck chair close to him, and sat, pulling one leg up under her. God, I love sitting out here in the morning having coffee. I love this boat. I’m going to miss her.

Reymundo didn’t know if Jana was hinting at something. Maybe she did think he was wealthy, and perhaps he would give her the boat back. It was given to her once. It could be given to her again.

Jana noticed the awkward silence and placed her hand on his. Hey, don’t worry about it. The boat was going to be sold. It’s not your fault Rob wanted to screw me over. I’m glad it was you who bought it. It could’ve been some old goober who might not have appreciated me slipping into his bed in the middle of the night.

Reymundo chuckled softly. I can’t imagine many men minding if you slipped into their bed. Maybe a gay guy, but not many others.

Or a married man.

That would depend on the man. I don’t think many married men would kick you out of bed – unless, of course, their wife was there. Then it’d be fifty-fifty.

Jana laughed. You’re sweet. She took a dainty sip of her coffee. No, seriously, I’m glad it was you. That’s why I came back last night. I’d like to get to know you better. I’m sorry it was late. I wanted to see you, but I needed a little liquid courage first. I hope you don’t mind.

Not at all. I’m just glad I didn’t shoot you.

Oh shit. I didn’t even think about that. Do you have a gun?

I do. I was reaching for it when you called my name. I woke up when I heard you coming down the steps.

Wow, that’s scary. God, I’m sorry.

Not as sorry as I would have been.

I promise I’ll never do it again.

I hope it means you’ll come by at a decent hour, or at least call first.

I will. Jana winked.

Reymundo looked out at the water for a few seconds then looked into Jana’s Caribbean blue eyes. Jana, he said softly, pausing to gather his thoughts.

Yes...

I’m trying to figure out what I want to say to you.

Just spit it out. That’s what I do.

Reymundo blushed slightly. I’m not very good at expressing myself. I know what I want to say, but I don’t know how to say it. At least, not without maybe making you mad. But if I could say what I was thinking, then perhaps you’d understand where I’m coming from, and you’d be cool with it. The thing is, how you take it probably depends on how you feel. Does that make sense?

Not one fucking word. Jana was smiling, but she meant what she said. We’ve spent two wonderful nights together. Don’t you think we can be open with each other?

Wonderful is right. But I still don’t know much about you, and I don’t want to offend you. Let’s say I make an assumption about you and I’m wrong. You might, well, get pissed and leave. I don’t want that to happen, especially over a misunderstanding.

Jana took a sip of coffee. I think I get it. You’re wondering why I’m here. Let me see if I can say it for you. You just paid cash for my boat. Not enough cash, but you did pay cash. Obviously, I would think you have money. You’re thinking, uh-huh, she’s here looking for a sugar daddy. You’re hoping I’m not, but then you ask yourself, why does she keep showing up in my bed? She looked into Reymundo’s eyes. They hadn’t glassed over, so she continued. You’d love to ask me, but if I’m not here looking for a sugar daddy, you’ve just insulted the shit out of me, and yeah, I’d be pissed. How am I doing?

Reymundo rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out how to reply. Yeah, I think that’s what I’m thinking, not exactly, but... he said, his voice shaking.

But you still want to know if I’m here for a sugar daddy, a boyfriend, or a fuckbuddy?

Reymundo looked at her, stunned.

I’m sorry, Rey. That was a smidge crude.

A smidge?

Jana laughed as she stretched her legs out and rested them on Reymundo’s. That’s why I’m here. I like you. I knew the moment we met you weren’t rich. Don’t ask how. I can tell. It could’ve been the lingering odor of dead fish. That was weird. Anyway, I like you, and I’m here because I’d like to see where it goes. While we’re getting to know each other, we can be fu..., uh, friends with benefits. How’s that sound?

Like a dream come true. I’m sorry about the fish smell. It’s hard to get rid of.

You work on a fishing charter?

Reymundo proceeded to tell Jana his life story. She listened intently as he told her about working on fishing charters, how he saved every dollar he earned to buy a boat. He had wanted a sportfisher so he could start his own charter business, but when the deal for the Cheoy Lee came up, he couldn’t refuse it. He was thinking about selling her and buying a flybridge cruiser he could charter for deep-sea fishing. That’s when the opportunity to charter Miss Jana for the same price as a fishing charter came up. He realized it would be a better deal. Same money. No fish. No fish smell.

After coffee refills, Reymundo continued with the story of the frat boys and the bind he may have gotten himself into by offering prostitutes for the cruise. He was having second thoughts about the offer. Finally, he confessed he’d saved more money than the boat cost. He had savings and was hoping to take some time to enjoy the boat. It was now his home. If he could book a few charters, he wouldn’t have to go back to cutting bait for a while.

Now you know, Reymundo said. You figured it out. I’m not rich. I have this boat and a little money in the bank. For a moment or two, I maybe considered that you were here for the money, but I hoped you weren’t. But I’m not stupid. I know you came from a rich guy, and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, let alone been with. I wouldn’t blame you if you hooked up with another rich dude.

Wow, I think you expressed yourself quite well. She laughed. Let me say this first because I think it’s the most important. I was with a rich guy, and it turned to shit. I dated a few rich guys before I married one. There are perks, for sure. This boat was one, but look what happened. To tell you the truth, I think I’ve found a pretty cool guy and, like I said, I want to see where it goes.

Really? I’d like that. Goosebumps popped up on Reymundo’s arms.

Yeah, me too. But...

Uh oh.

Yeah, always a but, huh? Jana rubbed Reymundo’s hand. It’s my turn. Let’s see how you feel after I tell you about myself.

I...

Please don’t interrupt. This is going to be harder to tell than your story.

Jana told Reymundo how she grew up in San Antonio, Texas, skinny, buck-toothed, and homely. As a freshman in high school, she was very accommodating so she’d be popular with the boys. As her reputation grew, so did her popularity. Unfortunately, she was only popular with a boy for a couple of dates. Afterward, they’d go back to their steady girlfriends. As she matured, got her teeth straightened, and dyed her hair blond, she discovered a new power.