Southern Cross - Pt. 01

Southern Cross -- part one

This story was inspired by the song of the same name, written by Stephen Stills, recorded by Crosby, Stills and Nash in 1981, and released on their 1982 album Daylight Again. It is a work of pure fiction. As always, votes and constructive comments are welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning -- there are several scenes where the main female protagonist relates instances of horrific verbal and physical abuse toward her. In no way do I condone abuse of any kind toward anyone, especially women. Please be aware of this before reading. Thanks...

"Thanks, Captain Jack. This was a perfect way to end our vacation. We really enjoyed ourselves."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I was able to help finish your vacation on a high note. Next time you're here, I'd be happy to have you back with me."

"No worries there. We'll be back. And once I get back to my computer, I'm going to post positive reviews everywhere I can. Plus, my travel agent is going to get flowers for recommending you. Thanks again..."

With that, Captain Jack Armstrong's guests left his boat, returning to their real lives of marriage and corporate America. It also meant that his deck hand Paul would be leaving as well, his summer job now ending as he headed back to university.

Jack and Paul spent the next few hours cleaning the boat and getting it ready for the next excursion in three days. Tomorrow Jack would take the day off, and then spend the next two days finishing up his resupply and final cleaning. Paul made sure all the linens, towels and Jack's clothes were ready to be picked up by the local cleaners, and then he was done.

"Jack, thanks so much for having me onboard this summer. I learned more than I thought I would, about sailing as well as music. This was a summer job I'll never forget."

"Paul, it's been my pleasure. You picked things up right away, and did a great job working with our guests. When you're ready, send me the needed information, and your recommendation letter will be on its way. And don't worry -- it'll be a glowing letter. Now, do you need anything else before you take off?"

"No, I'm good. I called a taxi before, so he should be at the marina office any time now. My plane leaves in three hours, so I'm just going to head to the airport now. You're sure I can't do anything else?"

"No, I'm good. Have a safe flight, and please keep in touch. Who knows -- I might need another great deck hand next summer."

And with that, Paul was gone and Jack was alone on his boat once again. This wasn't the way he had planned his life, but then life seldom follows anyone's plans. Looking back, this was definitely not the way he thought his life would pan out.

Two days later, Jack was on his boat, getting it ready for his next excursion. He had just returned from the store with provisions for the next two days, and was working in the engine room, when he heard someone calling to him from dockside.

"Hello! Captain Jack, are you there? Hello?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on. I'm coming. What do you want?"

Wiping his greasy hands onto his now greasy shirt, Jack stepped into the sunlight to find a young woman standing on the dock by his boat. She looked like a teenager at first, but soon he realized she was older than she looked. Long blond hair pulled into a ponytail that stuck out from the back of a baseball cap was the first thing that caught his eye. Then he started to look closer look at her.

Tall, at almost six feet, long, lean legs, and a body type that screamed competitive swimmer. Deep blue eyes, a smiling face smattered with freckles, and enough curves to entice any man, she stood there in a tank top, shorts, and sandals, with a backpack by her side. And despite the smile, she had a haunted look about her, like someone who was running from their past. A look he knew far too well.

"Hi! I'm Sara Owens from California and I was told you might be looking for a deck hand. I've been around water and boats my entire life, so I know how to sail. I also know how to work on engines, having grown up in a houseful of brothers who tore car engines apart daily. I have a Masters degree in Marine Biology and just need to do my dissertation to finish my PhD. I love to fish, cook, swim, and sail, and I think I would be a great addition to your crew. Any chance I can sign on with you?"

Jack shook his head in amazement. All that came out in one long, excited breath, and he hoped he didn't miss anything in her excitement. Sara stood there before him with an expectant smile on her face, waiting for Jack's response.

"Well, Sara Owens from California, I have to say that was the most unique job application I've ever had. Yes, I am looking for a deck hand, as my last one just left to go back to school. I'm interested, but right now I need to finish working on my engine before my next sailing tomorrow. Do you have a place on the island you're staying, or did you just get off the plane?"

"Both. A friend of a friend is letting me use their place, so I do have a bed to crash on. And yes, I got off the plane about three hours ago -- just long enough to find the apartment and drop my stuff there and find my way to the marina. Someone in the office pointed my way here to see you, and here I am."

"Yes, here you are. Ok, I don't normally hire anyone without checking credentials, but you have me interested. I'm almost done here, so why don't you come back about 6 and we can have dinner and talk some more. And don't worry -- dinner is on me tonight."

Barely hiding her excitement, Sara agreed and left, almost skipping her way down the dock. Jack smiled at her exuberance and hoped he wasn't doing the wrong thing.

Several hours later, Jack was waiting for Sara at the marina office. Just before six, she exited a taxi and waved excitedly to Jack.

"Right on time, something I expect with my deck hands. Come on, the restaurant is just down this way, about a five minute walk."

Dinner was an enjoyable several hours as the two exchanged small talk and Sara spoke about her upcoming doctorate degree. Jack could see her dedication to marine biology and her hope to do something positive to save the oceans and the life within. As dessert was being served, the solo entertainer began to play a slow ballad on his acoustic guitar, and Jack began to smile and nod his head to the rhythm.

"Wow, I haven't heard this rendition in a long time."

"Do you know this song? I don't think I've ever heard it."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it, seeing as how I wrote it. But that was a long time ago."

"You wrote this? Ok, Jack, you've been holding out on me. What's the story behind this?"

Jack laughed at Sara and her sudden interest in his past, which was something he didn't talk much about. But he really liked her, and he figured since she was going to be working closely with him, he would tell her the story.

"Have you ever heard music by The Armstrong Brothers? They were a huge hit years ago, but not as much lately. They still get together and do studio albums, but the touring has almost come to an end as the brothers want to get on with other parts of their lives, other than music."

"No, I've never heard of them before, but then again, I listen to lots of music and don't know who the artists are. So how do you know so much about this group?"

"Simple. I'm one of the brothers, the oldest. Jack Armstrong, the All-American boy. Singer, songwriter, lead guitar, and the front man for The Armstrong Brothers. One year younger than me are twins Isaac and Rich. Isaac plays bass guitar and sings, and Rich does all the keyboards and sings. Another year younger is Pete, who does all the percussion.

"Our parents love music and started us out as soon as we could hold an instrument. When I was 10 we started playing at local churches and birthday parties, as well as our parent's annual Summer Bash. Every year my parents host a huge party on the Fourth of July at their ranch, and neighbors from miles around are invited. The summer I turned 15, the daughter of one of their neighbors brought her new husband, who was a record producer in L.A. After he heard us he wanted to sign us to his label, but mom wasn't having any of that. We had school, ranch chores, and church activities to attend to.

"So they came to a compromise. They decided to bring us to Houston to record several demo recordings, and he would give them to his boss. That way we wouldn't have to leave home and he got his demos. We all thought it was great fun, but mom and dad were still skeptical, until he showed up at the ranch three months later with the owner of the record company. He loved what he heard and wanted to discuss a business agreement with our parents.

"The first year we went to the studio in Houston on long weekends and school breaks to record our songs. The album was released in the spring, and we did mini-tours the next summer. At that point, my parents realized how good we were, and we started to record more and tour more. I started writing songs, and when I was twenty we were selling out stadium tours. And at twenty-five I was burned out -- singing, touring, recording, and song writing, and it became too much. I also had a serious girlfriend, and I was beginning to lose myself. My brothers saw what was happening, so when I approached them with my plan to stop touring but still keep writing and recording with them, they were fine.

"That summer we were playing a set at the summer party, and before our last song I announced that not only was I getting married, but I was also going to stop touring with my brothers. The kicker came six months later, on my wedding day. We were all at the church waiting for Cindy, the bride, to show up, and she was late. After almost two hours, her father showed up, and he was not a happy camper. He explained that my fiancée wanted to be married to a touring rock star singer, not a songwriter, so she broke off the wedding. After the initial shock, he invited everyone to the banquet hall."

'We have all this food and drink, and even though my thoughtless daughter won't be there, let's go and have as good a time as we can.'

"Needless to say, I was angry and upset. I had no clue she felt like that, and despite my best efforts, she cut off all communication with me. Two weeks later, still angry and despondent, I left home and six months later ended up here, and here is where I stayed. And now you know the sad and sordid story of Captain Jack, sailboat excursion operator."

The two sat in their booth, quietly looking at the other, trying to see how the other felt.

"I just realized I'd never told anyone that story before. Not the whole one, at least. Hopefully I haven't scared you off, Sara."

"Nope, not a chance, knowing my own story. Just as sad as yours, but far more sordid, and a topic of conversation for another time. Thanks for dinner, Jack. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's sailing, as well as many more in the future. What time do you want me to show up tomorrow?"

"No later than 8. We sail at 10, so that way we can get everything ready to go."

"Great. I'll just grab a cab from here and see you in the morning. And thanks again for dinner and sharing your story with me. Good night..."

The next weeks and months sped by, as Jack and Sara became a well-oiled machine. Sara was a delight with all the guests; her abilities in the water, as well as her knowledge of ocean life, became great draws. It also didn't hurt that she was gorgeous, filled out her swimsuits dazzlingly, and often flirted with their guests. They were becoming a popular excursion for stag parties, but if a guest started getting too hands-on, Sara would shut him down quickly, but gently. In fact, several times Jack saw Sara almost push someone overboard as she tried to escape a grasp. He never had to step in, but he could see how she kept reacting to an unwanted physical presence.

Weeks later, just as Sara was tying off the last mooring rope, Jack's phone rang. It was one of his regulars, who normally booked the boat for a week at a time, even if he didn't use the boat every day. He was calling to cancel his week, as his youngest daughter was ill and wasn't able to travel.

"Don't worry about it, Steve. Take care of Jillian, and let me know when you want to rebook... no, you don't need to pay me for the week. I'll just push the payment until the next time... Steve, that isn't necessary... ok, if you insist. But don't be surprised if you get a nice discount next time... sounds good. See you soon."

"What was that all about?"

"Our next booking needed to cancel. Steve and his family have been sailing with me several times a year for many years, and now he brings his kids along as well. But the youngest is ill and they can't make it, and Steve insisted on paying me in full because of the last minute cancellation. So now we have a week off, all to ourselves."

Later that night, after Jack and Sara had finished their 'end of excursion' cleaning, they sat in the stern, drinking beer and talking. The two had become close over time, and their conversations were becoming laced with more personal information.

"So Jack, are you going to tell me how you went from rock star to running sailing excursion trips?"

"I will, but on one condition. You tell me what scared you so much back home that you ran away to the South Pacific to hide."

Sara's face paled, but she silently nodded her head in agreement.

"So, when I first landed here, it was about six months after the cluster fuck of my wedding day. I didn't know where to go, but I knew I needed to get far, far away from everything and everyone. I spent several months in Hawaii when I saw a travel brochure for Tahiti. I knew of it, but had never thought to visit, so I booked the next flight I could, and here I am. I wandered this way after getting off my flight, looking very much like you did when you wandered up to the boat months ago. I was walking through the marina when someone asked if I was looking for a job. I wasn't, but I said I was, and before I knew it, I was the deck hand on this boat named the Santa Marina. Mike was the owner, and he had named it after his late wife. And so my time as a sailor began.

"Two years later, Mike fell ill, and when I took him to the hospital, it was too late to do anything. It was cancer, and it was inoperable. Three weeks later he was dead, and we buried him next to his wife in a Catholic cemetery on a neighboring island. The next day I got a call from his solicitor, asking me to join him in his office for a reading of Mike's will.

"The next day found me, Father Keith, and Jean-Pierre, who is the police chief, sitting in the office, waiting for the will to be read. I had no clue as to how much Mike was worth, so I figured the balance would go to the church and a small amount to me."

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you all are busy men, so I will do this as quickly as I can. As you all know, Mike was catholic, but not a practicing one, especially after Marina passed away. Father Keith, Mike is leaving your parish the sum of $15,000 dollars.

'To Jean-Pierre, my longest lived and closest friend, I leave the sum of $20,000 dollars and the three bottles of cognac resting over my fireplace. Use one of them to toast me now that I am gone, and the other two drink at your own discretion -- but not alone.

'Finally, Jack Armstrong. Jack, over the past years you have become more than a deck hand to me. I think of you as the son I never had, the son Marina would have loved to call her own, and someone I came to rely on more and more. To you I leave the bulk of my estate -- the Santa Marina, the excursion business (which I dearly hope you keep running), my cars, my home in the hills, and whatever money is left in my accounts after the funeral. Use them all wisely.'

Silence fell over the gathered men, until Jack finally spoke.

"His home in the hills? I had no idea he lived anyplace other than the boat. And exactly how much money are we talking about?"

"Yes, Mike has a beautiful home overlooking the harbor, but after Marina died, he used it less and less. He has two cars in the garage, and the keys are in the house. As for how much money he left you... let's just say you never have to work again if you don't want to. The final amounts are still being tallied up, and I will have them for you in a few days. Thank you gentlemen, for your time. Here are your envelopes with cashier checks for your bequeaths. Jack, here are the keys to the house, and once I get a final accounting of Mike's accounts, I will be in touch. Good day."

Jack and Sara sat quietly for a while, letting the story sink in. Jack stood to refill their drinks, and he could see Sara's face had paled again, in advance of her telling her story.

"Sara, if you don't want to tell me what happened, you don't have to. I'm not going to pressure you in any way -- you tell me when you're ready."

"I appreciate that, Jack, but I don't think I will ever be totally ready to say what happened. But I trust you, and it's probably best if I get it all out into the open. Once I start, please let me finish before you say anything, otherwise I might not have the courage to finish."

Jack nodded his head in agreement; Sara took a long pull on her beer, and began.

"This is really two stories, but intertwined with each other. During college I fell deeply in love with Jeff. He was a police officer, but was taking college classes so he could move up in the department. Jeff was funny and kind, and I loved him. But after we got engaged and he moved in with me, things changed. He started getting possessive and controlling, but doing it so slowly that I never realized what he was doing. My friends and colleagues saw, but I was so blinded by love that I didn't.

"At the same time, after graduation I was hired by a museum/research facility, where I was able to continue the work for my PhD. They were wonderful to work for, and I enjoyed talking to groups about the ocean and what we need to do to save them. I especially enjoyed taking groups snorkeling and scuba diving -- getting up close and personal with the ocean life. And that is where another sordid part of the story starts.

"With the success we were having with groups, my bosses thought we needed to step up our marketing in order to bring more groups in. The discussions centered on me taking groups out, but doing it topless. When they first approached me, I was floored. It was then I realized I was only eye candy to them, and refused to do it. I also started recording all our discussions and saving all emails about the topic.

"One day, after another refusal, we were all out with a group, when my boss swam past me, and as he passed he untied my top, exposing me to everyone around. My other boss started taking pictures of me, intending to put them on our website to promote our 'topless snorkeling adventures'. I swam away as fast as possible, and made it back to the boat, where I signaled another nearby boat to come over and take me to shore.

"I was fuming, but expected them to try something stupid like that. I gathered my notes, emails, and voice recordings and went straight to a lawyer who I knew. After showing her all the materials, she said that I had cause to sue them, and would put everything together and get back to me. And this is where the story gets sordid and dangerous.

"By the time I got home, Jeff was there and was furious with me. I had no idea what I had done, but before I could say anything he slapped me hard across my face."

"You bitch! You think you can get away with showing off your tits to anyone who wants to see them? Who else have you stripped for? Who else are you fucking? Don't lie to me -- I'm a cop and I'll get to the bottom of it. Now, who else are you fucking?"