Mojito

As in:

Benny didn’t seem to get it at first that Solly’s boat was not among the twenty to thirty footers in the slips. And any one of those would have been fine for a day trip toward Key Largo of Freeport.

No, Solly’s boat was the biggest. It was the Riva yacht nearly half the length of a basketball court that was moored to the very end of the second pier. You could, for sure, run with day trips on this hoser, christened “The Bluefin,” but you could also chart a course for Spain, after loading stuff up for the queen.

It gave Benny a bad feeling right away, and it didn’t matter that Solly quickly offered him fresh papaya and a mojito, stuffed with mint and a wedge of lime.

“Welcome aboard son.”

“Good to see you again,” Ben tightly replied, lying into his drink.

“We’re going to see some things today.”

Yeah, we certainly were, but Ben was only sure that what Solly really wanted to see was beneath Charisse’s outer wear, which today consisted of a cane-colored blouse and khaki pants, over a black bikini.

It was creepy and not surprising, and it didn’t help matters that Solly was bragging on the boat as if he were Aristotle Onassis and the lair of the boat, with its bar, kitchen, three water beds, and eight portholes in the bow, marked him as the Sun God.

In the den below decks the cook and his assistant were watching a movie on a 48 inch flat screen. It was “Blue Velvet.”

“They’d really rather watch Titanic,” Solly announced, to needle them. “But that’s a bad luck film to show on a boat.”