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  Drunk on a Boat

  The Misadventures of a Drunk in Paradise: Book 2

  Zane Mitchell

  Drunk on a Boat

  The Misadventures of a Drunk in Paradise: Book #2

  by

  Zane Mitchell

  Copyright © 2019 by Zane Mitchell

  ISBN: 9781794606111

  VS. 3132019.02

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To my dad,

  The best man that ever walked the Earth.

  Thanks for making me the person I am today.

  Without you, I’d be nothing.

  Listen on Audio!

  Drunk on a Boat is now available to listen to in audio!

  The actor, Christopher Boucher, narrates and does an outstanding job capturing the essence and the humor of the characters in the book.

  Here’s a quick link to the Audible US store. Here you can download it on audio or just listen to a sample to check out his work!

  If you’re new to Audible, they usually give you the first book or two for free, just to try it out.

  If you prefer to purchase on Amazon, iTunes, or Audible outside of the US, click here and you’ll be taken to my website where I have the complete list of links.

  Contents

  Listen on Audio!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Hey there, it’s Zane…

  Manny’s Blue Hawaiian Recipe

  SNEAK PEEK - Drunk Driving

  Chapter 1

  Also by Zane Mitchell

  About Zane

  1

  “Drunk.”

  Facedown, I felt movement. The earth was shaking.

  “Drunk, wake up.”

  A shrill sound blared in the distance, as if a sonic weapon designed to burst my eardrums and implode my skull had been deployed.

  The shaking intensified. I gripped the surface beneath me tightly, afraid I was about to fall off the face of the planet. Panic surged through my body. My limbs were heavy, and my eyelids felt bolted down and unable to budge. A finger jabbed into the fleshy part of my shoulder, the skin-to-skin contact giving me the distinct impression that I wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  “Drunk!”

  Was that a voice I heard?

  “Hmm…” I groaned.

  “Wake up. Your phone’s ringing.”

  There went that damned sonic blaring again, drilling into my eardrums and making my temples throb. Even when the noise stopped, my ears rang with its distant echo.

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was turned inside out. My tongue was thick and heavy. I gagged a little.

  “Should I answer it?” The voice was low, but feminine.

  Rolling onto my back, I swiped a puddle of drool from the corner of my mouth. My foot slid sideways until I found a cool spot between the sheets. Spread-eagle, I stretched my arms out over my head. My hand touched a pillow.

  I was in a bed.

  A very comfortable bed.

  But despite the bed’s plushy comfort, the claws of death still knifed into my skull.

  I pulled the pillow to my side and curled into it.

  “Five more minutes,” I mumbled around my lead tongue. Even to my own ears, the words were a garbled incoherent mess.

  “It’s Artie.”

  I shifted again, trying to find a way to lie that didn’t press against my bladder. This time my foot made contact with someone else’s bare leg. There was someone in bed with me!

  The cogs in my mind suddenly clicked into place, and my eyes popped open.

  Bright morning rays of sunshine streamed in from my open window, searing my retinas like death rays of torture. Squinting and throwing a hand up, I turned to look at the face behind the voice.

  A woman lay in bed next to me. Young and fresh-faced with big brown eyes and a wild mess of curly brown hair, she had the better part of my bedsheet wrapped around her bare, voluptuous breasts.

  I grinned groggily at the familiar face. “Mornin’, Mack.”

  She responded with an easy smile, “Good morning, Drunk.” She handed me my phone as it rang again. “Your phone’s ringing. It’s Artie. Hey, listen, I’m gonna use your shower. Do you mind? I have to get to work before Mari fires my ass for being late again.”

  I ignored the ringing phone and stared at her through squinty eyes. “Work? What? It’s too early for work.”

  The husky undertones of her laughter softened the shrill sound my phone continued to emit. “It’s not too early for work. It’s almost eight.” She eyed the ringing phone. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  “What? No! Don’t go!” I yelled at her as she climbed out of bed, stealing my bedsheet right off of me, leaving me naked and now fully awakened. Mack was leaving? How was the night over already? It felt like it had just begun. “Oh, come on! No morning kisses?”

  Pressed up against the bathroom’s doorjamb, Mack shot me a sexy little pout. “Nope, no morning kisses.”

  “Rawck! No morning kisses. No morning kisses. Rawck!” The screechy echo radiated out from my bedroom window, effectively shooting a piercing dagger through my temples.

  I blanched.

  Mack giggled. “Sorry, Drunk. We both have to work today. You wanna hang out later, though?”

  “Later? Oh, come on, Mack,” I begged. I propped myself up on my elbow and patted the empty spot next to me. “You know what they say. There’s no time like the present.”

  Smiling, she tipped her head backwards. The long tendrils of her curls reached down to sweep the curve of her backside. “Yeah, well, my aunt Doris always says better late than never.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, well, one, Aunt Doris is wrong. And two, I’m pretty sure the saying is better late than pregnant.”

  Mack rolled her eyes at me. “Oh my God. You wanna hang out later or not?”

  My phone made the familiar shrieking sound again.

  Every vein that delivered blood to my brain throbbed in unison.

  Fuck! I needed to change that damned ringtone!

&n
bsp; My bottom lip plumped out, expressing my disappointment that we weren’t going to lie in bed all morning until the throbbing in my head subsided and I was ready to have another go of it. “Of course I wanna hang out later.”

  “Hang out later, hang out later. Rawck!” went the echo.

  The sexy sound of Mack’s laughter trailed behind her until I heard the bathroom door click closed.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, grabbing Mack’s pillow off the other side of the bed and launching it blindly at my open bedroom window. “Shut up already!”

  “Shut up already. Shut up already. Rawck!”

  My phone trilled once more.

  I clamped a hand on either side of my head and squeezed in an attempt to keep my head from rupturing and spewing splushy, vomit-inducing sludge across the room. Surely the resort cleaning staff wouldn’t want to come clean up a mess like that.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. The morning was not off to a great start. Slowly, I let out the breath, swiped the little green phone symbol, and put the phone to my ear. “Yeah, Artie, what’s up?”

  Pressing my thumb into my other ear, I almost couldn’t hear the echo across the room: “What’s up, what’s up, what’s up.”

  “Drunk, sorry to wake you so early. I know you probably had a late night, but listen, I need you to come in. We’ve, uh, got a bit of a situation.”

  I pulled the thumb out of my ear and ground the pads of my fingers into my eyes. I could hear the sound of the water turning on in the bathroom. “Hey, Artie, I got company this morning. Can’t we do this later?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important enough to warrant you coming in.”

  I had no interest in going into work at this hour. All Little Drunk and I wanted to do was to go join Mack in the shower, knock off a quick one, and then crawl back into bed and ooze into unconsciousness. “Right now?” I pressed.

  “Right now, right now. Rawck!”

  I’d had enough. I bolted up in bed, sending a searing pain through my skull. My eyes met those of a yellow-bellied, blue-bodied, green-headed, zebra-faced parrot. “Shut the hell up!”

  “Drunk?” Artie bellowed into the phone.

  The parrot bobbed back and forth in the window, doing a little dance on the sill. “Shut the hell up, shut the hell up. Rawck!”

  “Not you, Artie.” I grabbed my own pillow off the bed and flung it at the parrot.

  The bird ducked as my pillow sailed over its head and out the window. “Rawck!”

  “It’s this fucking parrot. Ever since you moved me into this cottage, it won’t leave me alone.”

  “Oh. That’s Earnestine.”

  “Earnestine? Fucking thing has a name?”

  “Yeah. Hey, Drunk, how long before you can get here?”

  I scratched my head and looked around. My quilt was twisted into a ball at the foot of the bed. Clothes were strewn all over the room. Empty shot glasses and tequila bottles lined my nightstand, and condom wrappers littered the floor. My head pounded—a memento of the wild night before. But oh, had it been worth it. My first night with Mack was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

  It had been epic.

  A real killer of a party.

  I glanced back at the time. It wasn’t even eight yet. I was pretty sure Mack and I had crawled into bed a little after two, but the festivities in my cottage had gone on well into the morning. I was guessing I hadn’t gotten to sleep until after four or maybe even five. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

  “Artie, it’s not even eight yet, and I gotta work tonight. Can’t whatever it is wait?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve got a woman here who’s demanding to see you. She’s kinda making a scene, Drunk.”

  I slumped forward in bed and ran a hand through my thick, unruly hair. If I had to guess, it was Alicia. Or maybe it was Gigi; I could see her being a vindictive one. Or maybe Mari had discovered I’d gone through her girls at the same speed I’d binge-watched Breaking Bad, and she’d run to Artie to tattle. I let my head fall into my free hand and groaned. They’d all been over eighteen and willing participants. I hadn’t had to coerce a single one of them.

  Charmed them, yes.

  Coerced them, no.

  Fuck.

  “Hey, listen, Artie, I can explain…”

  “No need to explain, Drunk. Just get in here ASAP.”

  Something in Artie’s voice had me curious now. “Come on, man. You’re not even gonna gimme a heads-up?”

  There was a pause.

  I could hear a woman screeching in the background. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but it was too muffled to hear it well.

  The phone crackled and then became suddenly hollow-sounding, as if Artie had wrapped his giant mitts around the receiver. “If I tell you, you’re not going to want to come,” he whispered breathily into the phone. His raspy voice made him sound like a stalker straight out of a suspense thriller flick.

  I sighed. It wasn’t like I needed this job anyway. After the $6.9 million windfall I’d received a few weeks prior, I was set for life. The head of security job at the Seacoast Majestic was as laid-back as jobs came, and in all reality, I was mainly doing it for shits and giggles, and so I had a reason to hide out on a tropical island instead of returning to the States and having to come face-to-face with my cheating ex-fiancée again. But if Artie wanted to fire me over sleeping with the help, he sure as hell was welcome to fire me. I’d get over it.

  I groaned. “I need a shower.”

  “Fine. Shower and then come in.”

  “Have a Dr. Pepper waiting for me, will ya?” I was going to need some caffeine if I was going to be worth a shit for the day.

  “A Dr. Pepper?”

  “Yeah, and a candy bar.” I had saved the man’s life, after all. The least he owed me was a damned soda and a candy bar.

  “A Dr. Pepper and a candy bar?” repeated Artie like he was writing it down. “What kind of candy bar?”

  “I don’t care. Nothing with coconut. I fucking hate coconut.”

  “I fucking hate coconut. I fucking hate coconut. Rawck!”

  2

  “This better be fucking good, Artie.”

  After a quick shower, I’d thrown on a pair of tangerine athletic shorts, flip-flops, and an orange-and-yellow tank top that read “Sun’s Out Guns Out.” Then I’d snuck in through the resort’s back entrance to avoid whatever disaster awaited me in the resort lobby, and now I was slouched down on a chair in front of my boss’s desk. I was hoping I’d resolve this “issue” quickly, as I had a long day of nothing planned, and I preferred to start it sooner rather than later.

  I pulled off my sunglasses and tossed them onto Artie’s desk but left on my black fedora. I hadn’t taken the time to shave or to put any product in my hair, so not only did I have a full day’s growth of dark hair covering my jaw, but I was also sure that the mess hiding beneath my hat would look just as unkempt as I felt.

  Artie took one look at the suitcases under my bloodshot eyes and shoved the bottle of Dr. Pepper in my direction. “Well, shit, Drunk. You look like hell.”

  “You think? The fucking band didn’t stop playing until midnight. By the time I signed out the security staff, it was after two.”

  “You mentioned you had company this morning too?”

  I waved a hand in the air dismissively. Now that I was awake, I didn’t want to talk about that. I wasn’t sure how Artie felt about members of his staff getting busy with one another, and with the way my head was pounding, I was in no mood to deal with getting chewed out.

  “Oh, never mind that,” I said, swiping my Dr. Pepper off his desk and unscrewing the cap. “Fill me in. What’s going on? Who’s the chick in the lobby?”

  Artie lifted one of his rump-roast-sized shoulders while I guzzled a third of the bottle in one swig. “You’re not going to like this.”

  “No shit? So you’re telling me this woman’s not here to
throw a party in my honor? Damn.” I shook my head, a small chuckle on my lips. “Listen, Artie. Every single woman I’ve been with since I’ve been to the island has been a consenting adult. I guarantee you. I don’t understand why this woman feels the need to harass me at wor—”

  “It’s Pam, Drunk.”

  The rest of my sentence hung in the air between us, my mouth gaping open. I snapped my mouth shut and tilted my head sideways. Perhaps my alcohol-induced haze had affected my word recognition skills. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

  “Pam’s the woman in the lobby. She’s demanding to see you.”

  “Pam?” The word almost sounded foreign to my ears. It was the last thing on earth I’d expected him to say. I shook my head, stupefied. “As in my Pam. Pamela Calcara, the cheating slut I almost married, Pam? The woman that ripped my heart out and fed it to the goddamned wolves, Pam?”

  Artie looked unsure. “I mean, she just said Pam. I assumed…” He picked up a folded-up white towel from his desk and wiped big beads of sweat from his lower brow.

  Artie Balladares, my boss and the owner of the Seacoast Majestic Resort on the tiny Caribbean island of Paradise Isle, was a big man. Sumo wrestler big. He was also bald. He covered up his bigness by wearing expensive linen suits, and he covered up his baldness with a big white Panama Jack safari hat with a black band around the crown. Even though he sweated profusely beneath the hat, it was his signature piece, and he never took it off. In fact, I’d only seen him without the hat once, and he’d looked ridiculous, so even though it meant Artie looked like a snowman in heat most of the time, I much preferred him wearing the hat.