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Chapter 7. Hair Braids
Jason and Gemma dined on a traditional Spanish dish in the ornate dining salon. The location permitted Captain McKenzie to join them.
“Oh, that bites somewhat,” muttered Gemma after the first mouthful of ice cream flavoured with chocolate and chilli.
The conversation virtually excluded her. Jason keenly asked about the latest news on the chartering business. His yacht had been continuously chartered for the past three years. For long leases and short, big guest parties and smaller ones. The money earned had covered the costs of the crew, fuel, and other expenses easily. The crew had changed numerous times over that period—not uncommon—but personnel issues had been minor. The yacht had been refitted twice since Jason’s ownership, one a major session in dry dock for engine maintenance and the second a minor sprucing up of the decor. They discussed the popular cruises, the best ports and harbours, and the difficulties of customs bureaucracy.
Gemma liked the man’s Scottish accent. A soft variation, which was easy to understand and follow. A good-looking man, almost an equivalent to Jason in stature and sexual appeal. She knew he was gay, and she found the thought liberating. She couldn’t be a
ccused of flirting with a homosexual.
“We’re going to Ceuta? A Spanish territory?”
“Yes, Mrs Lucas. A mainly Spanish population; however, you will be in Africa, a stone’s throw from Tangiers,” said Captain McKenzie.
“You will let us know when we pass the Rock?” asked Jason.
“Of course, sir. Not long. I need to relieve Ludo. Thank you for sharing your lunch with me.” Captain McKenzie rose and retreated.
Gemma wandered into the main salon. Jason followed with a glass of wine. Sublime rolled and pitched through the rougher sea as it steered towards the Straits of Gibraltar. She explored a cupboard by the big screen TV and found packs of playing cards and a chessboard.
“Let’s play chess,” suggested Jason, and she groaned.
They set the board up on an outside table. Off the starboard side, the coast appeared as a distant blur. The sun drifted in and out of the clouds, while a breeze blew across. Sitting opposite her husband, Gemma tried hard to put up a good fight and managed to take a couple of his key pieces, but she lost decisively. She always did.
The king toppled over with a flick of Jason’s finger. “You really are quite a bad chess player, Gemma. No foresight whatsoever,” he admonished with a sigh.
“Draughts?”
“Hell, no.” He frowned.
“What about cribbage? There’s a peg board,” she tried again.
“Go on, fetch it, and the cards.”
Gemma showed off her shuffling skills and cut the deck with one hand. “Your box,” she said after cutting the pack and losing.
“You mean crib. You always say box.”
“That’s what we called it in our family.” She shrugged. “Anyway you’ve got the advantage,” she pointed out, slapping down two cards on his crib pile.
“Tetchy, aren’t we?”
The game progressed at a leisurely pace, and Gemma matched Jason in skill and fortune.
“Fifteen, two, four, and six. Run for three and a pair. That makes eleven.” She pegged her red pin up the board, leaving Jason’s farther behind.
“Two pairs for a four,” he growled. His luck ran out. “Crib. Bloody hell, a zero. You have been mean with your cards!”
The hands after that one fell in Gemma’s favour, and she won by a whole side of the cribbage board.
“Yes. Yes!” she gloated. “Again?”
Gemma hummed a tune under her breath. She couldn’t hide from her husband the pleasure of playing at a game she had a chance of winning. The next one went to him, a close finish, with both of them within a few points of the final hole. A decider was required, and she won easily again.
“Well done, babe. You are definitely the mistress of the box.”
Gemma tidied away the cribbage board and returned with a backgammon set.
