Second Honeymoon

Chapter 17

AS SUCKER PUNCHES go it was a pretty good one. Straight to my gut, hard and fast. Kind of like how I went down.

Breathe, O’Hara! Breathe!

Fat chance. I was on my knees, hunched over in a helpless ball, my arms and legs resting on the sand.

Meanwhile, Speedo looked like the start of a one-man triathlon, dashing across the beach and heading straight for the water. Except I knew he wasn’t about to start swimming. Shit!

I pushed myself up, took one look at him dragging his Jet Ski into the surf, and immediately started running…in the opposite direction.

The guy manning the water activities hut barely had time to blink.

“I’ll be back,” I said to him, swiping the set of keys off his counter. With any luck he’d simply wave and tell me, “Have fun!”

Yeah, right.

“Hey, man!” I heard over my shoulder as I sprinted back down the beach. Now we had it going on. I was chasing Speedo, and Water Activities Dude was chasing me. “Hey, hey, you! Stop right there!”

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my southern cavalry. Carter was up from his bar stool, blazing across the beach like General Sherman through Georgia. For an older man, he sure could run.

As I dragged one of the resort’s two WaveRunners into the water as fast as I could, I looked up to see Carter nearly tackle the activities guy. Jesus, what a sight. This beach had never seen such action.

While Carter was quickly trying to explain the situation, I was trying to give myself a quick refresher course on the finer points of riding a Jet Ski. It had easily been more than twenty years since I’d last been on one.

Just like riding a bike, right?

I turned the key, punched the Start button, and jammed the throttle. Then I held on for dear life. Speedo had a head start, but he hadn’t lost me yet.

“Go get ’em!” I heard Carter yell.

For the love of James Bond, how do I get myself in these situations?