Rad stared at him, her eyes disapproving.
“It was a joke. Fetishes, fishishes—”
“I got it, Marty. I just didn’t find it funny.”
“Look, Rad, I’m sorry I mentioned—”
“Forget it.” She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the table between them. “Is the food ready—?”
Marty’s mobile phone rang. He took it from his pocket and checked the number.
It was Jacky.
“I should probably take this,” he said, standing.
∆∆∆
“Martin speaking,” he said, entering the salon.
“Professor Murdoch. It’s Jacqueline DeSilva—we met a couple of years ago.”
“I remember. Long time.”
“A very long time. How are you, Martin? Marty?”
“Marty’s fine, and I’m good. It’s nice to hear from you.”
“Is it?”
He glanced through the window to the foredeck. Rad was facing away from him, watching the sea, which was now indistinguishable from the black sky.
“Marty?”
“I’m here. And, yes, it is nice to hear from you.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“On that boat of yours?”
“That’s right.”
“I know this is out of the blue, but I need to talk to you.”
Marty wondered what she was up to. “I have a few minutes right now.”
Dead air on the line for a moment. Then, “No, in person.”
Marty’s curiosity got the better of him, and he said, “I’m free tomorrow morning—”
She said, “I’d rather we talk tonight. I have a flight tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t tonight. I’m with someone right now.”
“It’s important, Marty. Really important.”
Marty’s heart stopped. Was he a father? No. Impossible. What a ridiculous thought. They’d only had that one night together on the Oannes, and they’d used protection… Besides, if he’d gotten Jacky pregnant, the kid would be more than two years old already. Why would she wait so long to tell him such news? “I’m sure it can wait until—”
“Who are you with?”
“A friend.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.” He glanced through the window again. Rad was fiddling with her phone. “And I should get back to her.”
“Marty—”
“I have to go, Jacky. If this is as important as you say, call me tomorrow.”
“Marty—”
“Talk then.” He hung up and returned outside.
Rad set her phone aside as he took a seat.
“Business or pleasure?” she asked, lighting a fresh cigarette.
“Someone I knew once. She wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Did you tell her you’re on a date?”
“Is this a date?”
“I didn’t know you were seeing anybody, Marty.”
“I’m not seeing her, Rad. We went on a single date three years ago. I haven’t spoken to her since.”
“Then what does she want to talk about?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
∆∆∆
After eating and washing up, Marty and Radhika retired to the salon. He’d been teaching her how to play the piano, and now they attempted to play Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe.” When Rad hit a B-sharp instead of B-flat, she laughed and said, “Enough for me, Marty. Night cap?”