Page 34 of Hurricane Love

Wylie must have fallen asleep because he stirred again to Diego shaking his shoulder and the sounds of an air horn blasting across the water.

“You know those women?” he asked.

Wylie boosted himself up on one elbow and shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun. Rita and Pamela waved to them from where they’d anchored their Boston Whaler in the shallow water near the pier. Pamela was wearing her trademark teeny bikini while Rita wore a long-sleeved sun shirt, shorts, and a wide-brimmed boating hat to protect her freckled and fair skin from the sun. Rita was about to blast the horn again when Wylie sat up and waved back.

“Righteous. They came through.” He turned to Diego. “Those are the friends I told you about, Rita and Pamela. Want to go for a ride?”

Diego glanced from the boat to all of their stuff littered on the beach.

“We can leave all this shit here. No one will mess with it, probably. Just bring your wallet and your phone. It’s shallow enough that we can wade there.”

“Okay,” Diego said, seeming cautious but willing to go with it. They stood and grabbed their stuff, then made their way out to the boat, aptly named,Scissor Me Timbers.

Rita dropped the floating deck and they both climbed aboard. Wylie made introductions and Pamela offered them towels to dry off while shooting him a look that said,Damn, he’s fine, to which Wylie smugly nodded. They chatted for a bit about the weather–hot as hell–and the pit, same as always. Pamela had worked there for a spell before she got a big-girl job in finance, and she wanted to know about Frank and Hannah and Fuckface MacPherson, which Wylie was happy to share, including the latest incident at his birthday party.

“She’s still with him though?” Pamela asked. She knew all about the trials and tribulations of Hannah and her loser sperm donor.

“Yeah,” Wylie said with a sigh of disappointment.

“Too bad,” Pamela said, shaking her head.

“You don’t drink?” Rita asked Diego, who had declined her offer of an ice-cold craft beer.

“No, not anymore,” Diego replied.

“It’s bad for you,” Pamela agreed as she took another sip of her White Claw. “Bad for your liver, bad for your skin.”

“Bad for decision-making. For me anyways,” Diego agreed.

“So, how’d you meet?” Pamela asked, gesturing with her can to the two of them.

“We met at work,” Wylie answered. “You should see the way Diego handles the meat.” Wylie winked at Diego, who rolled his eyes and blushed adorably as Wylie continued, “I’ve been eyeing him for a while now, finally convinced him to give me a shot.”

“You’re very persistent,” Diego said as his own defense. Pamela nodded in agreement.

“Are you in school?” she asked Diego.

“No, I never went to college. I’m thinking about taking some business classes though.”

“That’s cool,” Wylie said, since this was the first he’d heard about it. “SPC has a good business program. Weren’t you in their business school before you went to USF?” he asked Pamela.

“Yeah, I got my AA from there and then transferred for accounting. There’s a lot of online options for people who work full-time jobs. And they have a foundation that offers tuition assistance.”

Diego nodded and seemed to not want to talk about himself too much, so Pamela and Wylie carried the conversation, catching up on their mutual friends and acquaintances, until Rita piped up with, “You boys wanna head over to Caladesi Island? Wind’s pretty low right now. Water’s not too choppy.”

Wylie glanced over at Diego, who shrugged and gave a nod, and it was decided. Pamela pulled up the anchor while Rita directed her where to store it, even though Pamela already knew. Rita liked to embody her role of boat captain to the fullest, and Pamela was sweet about indulging her as first mate. Rita then steered the boat northward with Pamela acting as navigator while the boys sat in the back. Diego marveled at all the development along the coast, and they each picked out their favorite mansions if they ever, by some miracle, became filthy rich.

“I’ll buy us that one when I make it big,” Wylie said to Diego, pointing at a white stucco mansion with Spanish-style tile roofing, big windows, and a massive infinity pool.

“Oh yeah, when I’m your wifey?” Diego teased.

“Yeah, you can spend all day working out and cleaning the windows naked. I’ll get you some nice knee pads for scrubbing the floors. With this warm weather, you can be naked all the time.”

Diego shook his head as if the idea was ridiculous, but now it was all Wylie could think about, Diego on his hands and knees with that perfect ass up in the air, just begging to be railed.

“Your imagination is so…vivid,” Diego said.

“I’m a dreamer.”