The river was huge, though, and boats meandered up and down the current. Not just motorboats and yachts, either. Barges carrying precious economic cargo headed either toward the sea or the factories farther upriver. Of course, there were quite a few hobbyists at the dock, and tourists pointed to this million-dollar yacht and that speedy fishing boat.I don’t think I would want to go fishing around here, though.Who knew what those barges trailed behind them?
Miquela was dressed down for the first time in a long while. Loose-fitting khakis and a breezy cotton shirt kept her warm and cool at the same time. Some of her compatriots back home liked to go out in cotton shorts and tank tops. They liked getting dirty. But Miquela was out to possibly buy and needed to make sure she looked the part.
The marina was plenty large, with multiple rows of private access docks that could only be accessed with a keycard. A woman could hop in the water and climb aboard, but that was for less scrupulous characters. The electronic gates leading to each dock gave owners a semblance of protection that they would pay any amount to have.
I’ll pass on the monsters.One end of the marina was inhabited by huge multimillion-dollar yachts that probably made the Forbes lists. While Miquela could appreciate them, she was more into the smaller, sportier yachts… like the one she came upon called theSt. Jude.
Sounds familiar.Anything that made her think of June was good enough for her.
A primFor Salesign hung by the security keypad.“Call the following number if you are interested: tours by appointment only.”
“Hey, stranger! In the market for a vessel? Or are you checking out the wares?”
That voice came from above. Miquela looked up to the neighboring yacht and saw a woman near her age hanging over the edge. Scruffy black hair. Blue polo shirt. A Rolex that said she liked to get wet on her boat – otherwise, she would be wearing a much more expensive watch.Because no woman wears her nicest watch on her vessel if she intends to get dirty.Miquela liked her already.
Her small yacht was calledPriss & Moan, which made Miquela bite back a laugh lest she make an ass out of herself. “I may be in the market.”
“Whoa! Nice accent.” The yachtswoman pressed a button, lowering a polished wooden ladder to the dock.Is she coming down? Or am I going up?Miquela didn’t want to be presumptuous. “What’s your name, stranger? New in town? Or just visiting?”
“Miquela Bolivar, if you please. I just moved here.”
“Bolivar? The Spanish Bolivars?”
“Close.” Miquela grinned. “Monaco.”
“Monaco! So, you’re that branch of the Bolivar tree? I’m already not worthy. Care to come up to class my humble abode up a bit?”
Still chuckling, Miquela helped herself onto the sturdy ladder and made a quick jaunt of it. At her height, it was easy to take things two at a time. By the time she was on the deck, she was already shaking the owner’s hand.Firm grip.Excellent. “Sorry. Didn’t catch your name.”
“Zara Felton. You wouldn’t have heard of my family. Peasants, compared to yours.”
“I highly doubt that. You’ve got the upper hand around here. I don’t know anyone.”
“You can afford to know anyone.” Zara pulled open the nearest cabin door. “How about a beer? The weather is too good to pass up a beer.”
“Sure.”
“Any preference?”
“Citrus, if it’s available.”
Zara disappeared for a few minutes, leaving Miquela to stand on the deck and survey the marina from a new level.It truly is beautiful around here. Maybe she was still in the honeymoon phase. Not that she ever expected to be in a honeymoon phase here, but… some things changed the colors of the sky and made the imposing skyscrapers on the other side of the river not look so imposing after all.Yeah, I can take over all those businesses. Leave it to me.Was that Spanish bravado? Or general European bravado? Some would say it was both.
When her host returned, it was with two tall glasses of ale. They stood at the railing overlooking the river and enjoyed their drinks in quiet. Until Zara couldn’t stand it anymore.
“So, what brings you to our fair city? Investment or hostile takeover?”
Miquela grinned into her drink. “A little bit of both.”
“Bolivar from Monaco… casinos, right?”
“Mostly casinos and resorts, yes.”
“You’ll fit right in here. Lot of real estate moguls around here. Bit of a Mecca.”
“Are you in real estate?”
“Hell, no. My family considers the time-honored tradition of manufacturing its greatest pursuit.” When Miquela’s interest remained piqued, Zara continued. “We’re in steel.”
