Acapulco Nights by K. J. Gillenwater Page A

sessions. Our instructor had taught us to sit in the kayak, flip upside-down, and then right ourselves and our kayak in one smooth motion. I had not been known for doing anything in one smooth motion.
    Janice’s eyes lit up at the thought; my stomach heaved. Feeling lightheaded, I plopped down on the slick boards of the pier.
    “Are you all right?” our classmate, George, asked. He reached out a broad hand to help pull me up from the ground.
    Regaining my feet, I smiled weakly at him, “I guess you could say I’m scared out of my wits.”
    Janice threw an arm around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze, “Oh, Suze, you’ll be fine. You know how to swim, so what is there to be scared of?”
    “Getting trapped underwater and drowning?” I answered.
    George, who was fast becoming my new best buddy, slapped his helmet down on his head and declared, “I’ll go first.” Then, he winked at Janice and me.
    Janice’s face flamed red—she blushed!
    Our instructor assisted George in climbing into his kayak and getting him seated properly. Then, I prayed to God George would come back to us in one piece.
    Janice must have had the same thing on her mind: George, that is.
    “Mmm, he seems nice.”
    “Who? Enrique?” I squinted at our no-nonsense instructor.
    “No, silly!” Janice blushed again. She pressed one hand to the top of her floppy hat to keep the stiff breeze from blowing it away. I wondered what would happen to her hat when the time came for her to put on a kayaking helmet.
    “Huh?” My mind focused on the status of her hat rather than her statement about an attractive man.
    “George,” she whispered urgently, watching him practice his paddling. “He’s not quite my type of guy, but—”
    “Your type ?” I had no idea this woman had any type at all. Then, I thought about it some more. “Well, he is a little on the short side.” And I was being kind. George stood about five-feet-five and had a barrel chest, your typical Greek-American.
    “Oh,” Janice answered, as if she hadn’t noticed that particular glaring fact. “I meant his interests. I mean, river rafting is fun and all, but is that really a sport?”
    River rafting? Did I miss something? How much zoning out did I do during that lecture, anyway?
    “Hmm, yeah, I see what you mean.” Good cover, Eisenhart . “But I think lots of rafters take it very seriously.”
    “You do?”
    “Yeah. Wasn’t it one of those Olympic demonstration sports last summer?” Now I was on a roll.
    “It was?”
    “I think so.” So, Janice liked George, the short, Greek guy. Interesting couple they would make. Her, almost six feet tall and willowy as a reed; George much shorter and built like a tank. A match made in Acapulco heaven.
    “Hmm—”
    Time to push her out of the nest. “I think you should go for it.”
    “I should?”
    “Yes. He’s a nice guy, he’s adventurous—”
    “And he was very gentlemanly when he helped you up.”
    “Exactly.” I saw Enrique approaching us with a now-drenched George, and I knew what I had to do. Time for me to be as good friend to Janice as she had been to me. I stepped forward and boldly announced, “I’ll go next.”
    That should give those two plenty of time to get acquainted. She better thank me for this later.
    My legs were jelly, but I strode toward the kayak bobbing in the ocean. Strapping the helmet on my head, I kept moving, worried if I paused for even a split second, I would lose my nerve.
    “Now, if you need any kind of assistance, tap the top of your helmet twice, ok?” Enrique explained.
    I nodded my head, but wondered to myself, if I tapped my helmet when I was trapped underwater, who would notice?
    *
    “Wasn’t that a blast?” Janice asked me, her face still beaded with water from rollover practice.
    I should have guessed she would learn kayaking with little trouble. I, on the other hand, coughed up sea water. I passed the basic skills exam at the end of class by the skin of my teeth. But I