Bermuda is a pretty place. It sits in a startlingly clear, azure sea, its bays so blue they hurt the eyes. It beaches are pink. The strangely architectured houses, of different pastel shades, are constructed to catch rainwater on their roofs and help make up for scarcity.
And that's our one paragraph describing Bermuda. The rest of the chapter is either spent back on the boat or focused on Teenie.
The Golden Sunset docks at St. George, and Gris disembarks to see about buying yachting clothes, because who would want to yacht around in ordinary vacation clothes? Alas, Bermuda is an expensive place, and Gris buys no yachting clothes. His attempt to expand his wardrobe thwarted, Gris ambles around and notices a gray-suited man with a blue-black, stubbly jaw who he thinks is taking an unhealthy interest in him. Gris plays it cool and sits on a shady park bench, pretending not to notice the guy watching him.
And then Teenie shows up, aborting any burgeoning cloak and dagger intrigue. The high school nympho doesn't notice Gris, fails to buy a bicycle from a native, then pops into the same bar as the suspicious guy. They walk out together, talking about bicycles, then spend an hour in a hotel. When they eventually emerge, they hit a dress shop, a record store and a bike shop for swag. Why Teenie needs three bicycles is just one of those pointless questions. Gris chalks the whole thing down to Mr. Black-Jowled Fellow liking "very young meat." I assume that would make Candy and Pinchy middle-aged, abusive meat and the Countess Krak buxom, mind-raping meat.
That's it for Bermuda, cut to dinner on the yacht. Teenie blathers on about Bermuda's criminal background, then mentions an Italian fellow she met that day who talked about assassinos and was asking about a young, brown-haired man. After hearing this Madison is eager to leave port, so they decide to set a course to Morocco, because there's a lot of marijuana there and the king is a crook. I can't wait for someone to tell them about Afghanistan!
Gris goes to bed, exulting in how relaxing his cruise has been, sparing not a second thought for the guy he thought was tracking him, who Teenie's anecdotes suggest may be a mob assassin. Yes, life is good, he's recovering his health, and best of all, no pesky women have been bugging him with sex and stuff! "What a glorious world it would be if I never again touched a woman!"
He's not gay, though.
Hugging that splendid thought to me, I went below to my sleeping cabin. I disrobed and climbed into bed. I stretched out, luxuriously alone and undisturbed.
A door opened!
I had never noticed it before.
Gris is a trained spy, by the way.
It must be the door to the adjacent suite!
TEENIE WALKED IN!
Gris panics as Teenie starts stripping, explaining that she's determined to stay faithful to him - or more specifically, "this equipment of yours is too great to be neglected." She's limiting herself to oral sex when interacting with the other men on the ship, which is all she did with Mr. Black-Jowled Fellow that afternoon, hence why she's still fired up. Gris brings up Madison, but Teenie explains he's totally disinterested in her and views her as a kid sister rather than love interest.
"[...] But you get me for a snack in the morning, a piece in the afternoon and a full-scale banquet all night. How's that?"
"NO!" I cried.
But she threatens to kill herself if he turns down her advances, which of course would lead to a murder charge against Gris, who as a repeated murderer up to his eyebrows in criminal activity certainly doesn't want to get on the wrong side of the law! Teenie's nice enough to bring out the marijuana before raping Gris via blackmail, with the usual Hubbard wobbling furniture sexy discretion shot.
Just thinking out loud here - if Teenie were tragically lost at sea, would the crew be "professional' enough to pretend she never boarded? The steward's supposedly familiar with royal intrigue. Maybe it wouldn't be the first time the ship left port with fewer passengers than it docks with.
Back to Chapter Two
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