Page 46 of The Champion
“No, I’m not. That jerk had itcoming.” Heinsinuated the wordcomingto specify something lewd and then winkedslowly. Leaning back in his seat, he slouched to one side and then turned tolook at me in a very cocky way. “Thiscomingfrom someone who just wentoff on a flight attendant,”
“You really need anger management classes and stop sayingcoming!”
“No I don’t.” he almost sounded appalled that I said heneeded anger management.
“Really?” I challenged quirking an eyebrow in hisdirection and then looked at the fuming kid across from us nursing his soreshin that Jameson had kicked. “You don’t think so?”
He smirked again. “Nope,” He popped a few skittles in hismouth and chewed slowly. “I don’t think so.”
When we landed, nothing got better.In fact, itgot worse.
“You didn’t think to check the weather?”
“Well...I wasdistracted.”
“Apparently,” I muttered pushing my waterlogged hair frommy eyes.
This was a disaster. This whole thing had been a completedisaster from the start and it honestly didn’t look like it was going to getany better.
Jameson’s plan, for our delayed honeymoon, was for us togo away for a few days to Rio de Janeiro before he needed to be in Las Vegas onWednesday. This left us seven days of pure alone blessedness.
In theory, it was a great plan but now that we werethere, it was not good.
Did I mention we were also in the middle of a hurricanetrying to find an island that was supposedly located somewhere in the middle ofthe South Atlantic Ocean?
First we missed our plane and had to sit at the airportfor two hours waiting for the next flight. Then we got stuck next to thisobsessed fan who talked to Jameson the entire flight about how he got startedin NASCAR and everything from his favorite color to the brand of underwear hepreferred. Then we had the mile high fiasco, which was another disaster.
When we finally landed, Jameson was not in a good mood.
In fact, he was livid and extremely cranky, crabby,grouchy, ornery and just being downright mean to everyone.
“I hardly see this as my fault.” He added squinting intothe darkness.
“It is your fault.” I told him.
His head turned toward me, his eyes hard, hair fallingagainst his damp forehead. We looked like two wet rats.
“How so?” he challenged, water dripping from his nose.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged indifferently. “just is.”
The wind blew, rocking the boat. We sat next to eachother on the floor now, swaying with the waves, our shoulders bumping againsteach other with each rock of the boat.
I shifted beside him, reaching for my water bottle. Itwas dark and you couldn’t see, so when my hands began searching Jameson tensed.
“Wait a second...youdon’t have a fork, do you?”
“No.” I said with a giggle. “I was looking for my water.”
He sighed dramatically. “This sucks.”
“Maybe you should have listened to the guy at the dockthat said we should get someone to help us navigate.” I suggested.
“I don’t need any help.” he snapped throwing his arms up.“You’d think he would have warned us about the weather. What an asshole.”
“Did youevenhave an idea of where we are goingor did you just start driving the boat?”
“Yes.”
