From the opening chapter of After Two:
Ben stepped out of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse and onto the street. He paused on the steps as light rain touched his face. He barely felt it. The numbness from his divorce had seeped from his mind into his body; even though it was officially over, everything inside him still felt scattered and raw.
He’d survived storms at sea during years cruising with his parents aboard the family sailboat—squalls, gales, nights blown sideways—but this was the first time he’d been capsized on land. Now he had to right himself and plot the new course.
The rain thickened. A gust swept down the street, followed by a sharp crack of thunder. Sheets of water tore across downtown, slowing traffic to a crawl.
Jacket over his head, tie pressed into service as a windshield wiper for his fogging glasses, Ben sprinted toward the corner coffee shop—his ritual throughout the divorce proceedings.
Inside, the aroma of pastries and espresso wrapped around him. The storm had pushed half of Miami indoors; the line stretched all the way to the door. Ben shook out his jacket, trying to gather himself.
“Ben? Ben Harvey?” a voice called out. “I’ll be damned. Remember me? Jason—Chicago, late ’90s? School days?”
From the middle pages of After Two:
He keyed the VHF.
“Port Louis Marina, Diana, Captain Ron. Taxi and two deckhands for luggage—and pronto. Boss is in a hurry.”
“Roger dat,” came the familiar Caribbean drawl.
Captain Ron hung up the mic and stepped out onto the aft deck. Sunlight skated across polished railings as he took in the harbor—the tangle of masts, fishing skiffs nosing along the seawall, cruisers at anchor, the bright curve of the Carenage beyond.
He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and let an annoyed grin settle in.
“Well,” he murmured, “time for a drink… and maybe a first officer…”
He headed for the marina bar, still muttering and shaking his head.
“A first officer on short notice,” he grumbled. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
He dropped onto the stool with the resigned sigh of a man who had accepted his fate only because arguing took more energy.
“Gimme a margarita, Tessa.”
“Already makin’ it. Saw you comin’,” Tessa said with a smile, her Grenadian accent as warm and thick as the midday heat.
Ice rattled in the shaker as she glanced up, one eyebrow raised.
“Rough day, Captain?”
Captain Ron pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Boss needs a first officer… Today. Preferably yesterday…”
Tessa laughed, a soft, knowing sound.
“So… de usual.”
Captain Ron cracked a grin despite himself.
“Yeah—preferably someone with a pulse. And someone who won’t ask too many questions on day one…”
Tessa wiped the counter. “What dey signin’ up for?”
Captain Ron glanced out toward Diana, flawless in the sun, ready to go.
“Short version…?” he said.
“We leave tomorrow…”
He lifted the glass.
“Long version costs more than this margarita—and requires me to pull a rabbit outta my…”
“Hat?” Tessa finished, laughing.
Captain Ron snorted and rolled his eye.
“Sure… Let’s go with hat…”
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