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This a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Part I
The First Year
Chapter 1
“It is what you asked for, son. What are you going to name it?”
“Bay Bee,” twenty-two-year old Joe Powers replied. At six feet, he could look Jason straight in the eye, but he never had the courage to tell his father what he really thought of him.
“Why did you name it, Baby?”
“Bay Bee,” Joe repeated and spelled it out for his father who had just handed the legal title to the thirty-foot sloop to him.
“Oh, I get it,” Jason Powers said, and let his eyes follow the lines of the sloop. “The yellow hull and brown sail cover. It looks like a bumble bee.”
“And I’ll sail it on San Francisco Bay,” Joe said and forced a wide smile hoping to convey exuberance and delight for his father’s generous birthday present.
“That’s a really clever name. Enjoy your sailboat. I hope you can take some weekends off from your studies to race in the bay summer series?”
“I might if Tyler will crew for me,” Joe replied referring to the only male his age that he could call a friend.
“He’s a strong experienced crew. I will miss both of you on the Bernice. I’ve been talking to some men at my office about crewing for me next season. I guess you fellows won’t be interested in crewing for me.”
“You won’t have any trouble, getting volunteers, Dad. You’re the founding partner of your firm. Some of your young lawyers will want to make points with you. Tyler works part time, but he can get off on a Saturdays if he puts in enough night shifts, so he’ll probably crew. When I want to relax I’ll go up the San Joaquin River and cruise the Delta and—”
“No overnighters with girls, son,” Jason said when he thought of Joe spending nights on his sailboat with coeds who would go anyplace with Joe only because of his father’s wealth. Jason had handled too many cases involving pregnant young women during his early years of practice when he would take on any client that walked in the front door of his first office.
“No, sir,” Joe replied, although he already had made a date for an overnight cruise. He would break that rule within a week.
Jason fretfully glanced at his watch. “Good grief, I’ll be late for an appointment with a client in forty-five minutes, and I’ve still got to get across the bridge.”
“You better get going then.” Joe was anxious to get rid of his father. “You should be ok on the bridge unless someone breaks down or there’s an accident.”
“Well then, I’m off. Happy Birthday and the Lord be with you, Joe,” Jason shouted over his shoulder as he hurried up the ramp to the dock gate.
Joe watched his father stride along the floating concrete dock past rows of sailboats and luxury yachts, while he thought; He walks just like he races the Bernice. He probably works the same way, always; in a hurry and always with a lot of pressure on himself and everyone who works for him. His mind turned on the word race and Joe grimaced when he thought about his father’s rules. Never take girls on an overnighter? What a joke! And racing? I will never race Bay Bee on San Francisco Bay or any place else.
Joe watched his father’s silver luxury sedan roll out of the parking lot, and when it turned the corner, he walked up the ramp to the parking lot where he had parked last year’s birthday present, silver Cadillac SUV. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment. He went to the back of the vehicle and picked up several rolled nautical charts and a six-pack of beer. Joe hoisted the beer under one arm, his charts in the other and strolled back to the Bay Bee.
Joe boarded, opened a can of beer and settled at the table in the salon. He forced himself to recall the reasons he hated his father. Jason originally named his forty-foot racing sloop, Jesus. When Joe reached an age and size that he could occasionally talk with Jason, he told him that some of members of his yacht club were making a fool of him. Every time Jason radioed, “Jesus calling for a radio check,” several club members would race to their marine radios and reply, “We hear you loud and clear, Jesus.” Jason never varied his routine and would respond with, “This is Jesus, thanks and out.” Joe knew most of the members and had heard the exchange countless times while he was growing up. He’d even been on board a sailboat with the son of member of the sailing club when Jason called for a radio check and cringed when the kid’s dad laughed at the radioed exchanges. His friend told him that most of the members gossiped about Jason’s unrelenting religious fervor. “Of course we all admire your dad’s racing ability,” he had added, which made Joe think that his friend said that because Joe might also be ultra religious because of his dad fervor.
After Joe pleaded with him and gave his father all the reasons he could think of to change the name of his sailboat to something else. Jason finally gave in and renamed his forty-foot racing sloop, Bernice, to honor his wife who had boarded his sailboat once, poked around below, sat behind the wheel in the cockpit, went ashore and never returned to the marina again.
Joe lit another cigarette. Smoking and alcohol were forbidden at his parent’s mansion and Sunday attendance at their Church would be mandatory as long as he lived at home. He hated going to their fundamentalist Christian church or for that matter, any church. He wanted to sail someplace where he could smoke pot, sniff some cocaine and get drunk whenever he felt like it. Joe had plans to get away from his parents. He had plans for the Bay Bee. All he needed was someone to help crew when he set sail for the South Pacific.