Cursed Muse

As the saying go’s “Beauty is a Curse” and it is so with the Lifeguard Captains #2.

The Lifeguard Captain, DJ, explains it like this;

“Take a deep look into the eyes of a woman working in a man’s world, there’s a shadow of a curse and a fire of survival us men will never know”

In this episode a glimpse through a prism into the soul of a Heroine team leader of a Sea Rescue Squad out on the edge....

An encounter with a professed privileged boys club that learn;

“Hell hath no Fury like a woman’s scorn”

And for those of you new to this series;

We’re gonna erase some ghost, feed a demon of the past back to his own and cry some tears of mercy and love.

Buckle-Up*

 Xlendi Bay-Gozo Island-Malta

Storm runner, on the run…..

Beach cleared, village scurrying in storm-lockdown-mode, shutters secured, streets vacated and batten down anything and everything that can blow away.  

On horizon a thunder head moving in at 50 knots, 15 minutes out picking up speed. Aka; flash storm, micro blast. Over the years they roll in an out faster, more vicious and deadly.

As the world’s climate changes, these storms become more frequent and intense. As hot desert winds of Sahara moved over the Mediterranean and collide with cool air from Northern Europe, this one formed in about 20 minutes with the full package; Typhoon gust, skin stinging sheets of sideways rain and a lighting show that would rival the best Hollywood special effects wizards.

Throttles up at 70% the rescue boat plains out of the bay to open Sea, Helmet on, wind pulling on body, that Sea salt taste with a lick of lips.  

On Screen: SAT NAV-The radar has that eerie appearance of a massive Alien spaceship invasion

Flocks of Seabirds fly towards the Island for safe haven; the local wild life knows what’s coming

There’s another storm brewing here DJ has to deal with, shadows of the past

DJ’s best mate Police Chief Constable Ryan sent a text a few minutes ago

<#2-Sx asalt/slf-defns = link ParadPltz-rsvp-asap> With GPS coordinates.

DJ:  <cpy-n rte ETA 40m>

Out on open Sea, he starts the arch Eastward heading towards Comino Island and sets a course towards Mellieha Bay on the North West of the main Island.

These are soul moving moments; at the helm of a Fast Rescue Boat, out running a fast in coming storm.

And then the urge, can’t resist it, a wisp of that bad boy go-fast-thing;

RPM’s- up, Run it hot........ Redline-dis- Bitch*

Come On-

Some of ya know how it is, point that sleek composite hull in the wind, the aerofoil affect, get’n that lift with a hydrodynamic skip and glide ride.

That hydroplane flight, on course right and tight, with a bit of lateral high speed drift here and there.

All under control

Actually Not……..

Low whine scream of a tuned up twin power pack on back, surrounded by a bit high-tech, and a last glance at that nasty thunderhead of lighting blitzes in background

Gotta Love It*  

40 Minutes Later:

DJ powers down the 9.5 meter Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat (RIB) at a wakeless speed as he enters Mellieha Bay.

East side hillside villas, West side exclusive flats, dead ahead- upscale hotels, B&B’s mixed in with chic & boutique cafes’ and a crowded picturesque beach.

It’s the open air concert series in Malta, originally started off as a offbeat hippy beach party jam back in the day. Malta is blessed with good early summer weather and the big names come here first to tune up their gigs for the European tours and it puts them in reach for famed Montreux Music Festival.

The bay is packed with the who’s, who of Mediterranean yachts for the week’s concert line up. From the new to the classics, professional Sea savvy’s to wanna-be’s, fashion yachting types and the just plain weird.

As DJ maneuvers in the crowded bay, those in the know lift a glass, give a nod, a salute to the sleek rugged orange and yellow, black pin striped low profile Sea machine with the prestigious Maltese Rescue Cross/ Trident insignia.

 It’s not a pretty marine machine compared to what’s on exhibition in the bay.

It’s raw, sleek-hydro dynamics, role bar, spot lights, Comm’s  antennas, a bit of that military Spec-engineered look, with a few Batman type features.

Regardless if you’re Sea savvy or layman, you gotta look twice. It stirs the souls of men and woman differently like a Harley Davidson.

Usually the first reaction is; woman wana ride it, men wana drive it, they all wana touch it, but no one wants to own it.

A Police boat waves DJ towards a 30 meter cigarette ocean speed machine of design marvel in pearl white metal flake finish.  As DJ climbs on the main aft deck, Chief Constable Ryan greets him with a fist bump, as he leans on the gunwale, turns off his chest pack radio and listens and observes.

What do we have here?

Four well-dressed men that show all the signs of a brutal beating.

And not some Pub scrapes with the blokes.

The cat like claw marks of torn ear down to ripped lips that need stitches, the broken nose with swollen shut eye tearing and seeping blood, the knee splint in ice packs, the shoe less foot with black and blue broken toes, the sling’d dislocated shoulder with taped broken fingers and a swath of hair ripped out- showing scalp, a quivering hand holding knocked out teeth.

DJ sizes up the Fab Four;

Pudgy, not fit, one on the verge of obese, expensive wedding bands, dressed in designer yacht fashion, trimmed in pricy jeweled  accessories and exotic high end Swiss watches.

No fat shaming there, it just is what it is

A tuned up Police Woman is interrogating.  She’s smart, cool and ruthless in the Q&A’s;

The enclosed area reeks with a stench of perspiration and expensive cologne

DJ and Chief Ryan know it could have been worse for the Fab Four

A Rook Sack open on center deck full of stock certificates-free trading, depository receipts as Ryan winks at DJ and shows him an encrypted flash drive.

DJ notices an embossed emblem on the helm. It’s the symbol of the famed Swiss banking group with a Paradeplatz address; they’re from the offshore banking business and those stock cert’s are a payoff. Takes one to know one, let’s not forget DJ ran a profitable private asset management division for a name brand London bank.

But what got the Fab Four here is; a Sexual Assault Charge on DJ’s Lifeguard.

Rewind Snap Shot:

DJ’s #2 Gabby found a billfold on the crowded beach, she called it in. HQ Secretary Marina tracked down the owner at a sports bar at beach end. She has a team of eight Lifeguards on a 2 km strip with over 5,000 people and a packed concert venue nearby.

Her day so far; Jet Ski collision - helicopter EVAC, lost kids, bandages, a couple of rescues, the intoxicated and a drug over dose.

Lifeguard Life stuff on a busy day

She finally got a break and jogged to that beach sports bar, wearing a two piece sports Lifeguard swim suit, nothing provocative, shoulder sling rescue pack, hip belt with rescue swim fins and water bottle, she entered the crowded male dominated establishment of football fans and big screen TV’s.

The Fab Four let out a round of dog whistles, jeers, and a slap on the butt she ignored. She leaned over the bar inquiring the bartender to ID the billfold owner, a hand grabs her crotch with a hard squeeze.

Game over for the Fab Four in 30 seconds

They all took part in this

 It’s all on a Security Cam

 Let’s take a closer look at what the Fab Four decided to play grab ass with.

Gabriella; Search & Rescue (SAR) 1^st Lieutenant, Aka; Power Rescue Girl.

Born and raised in that village DJ did the Storm run from, she grew up in a good Catholic family the youngest of five and five years apart from her closest sibling in a world of sun and Sea, hardworking helping her father on a small fishing boat.

She came into this world much darker in complexion than her parents and family, with all the genetic markers of Malta’s North African rulers of centuries past.

Her mother calls her “My Nubian Princess” her father swears she’s the reincarnation of Nefertiti with those classic exotic North African Arab features, pitch black eyes, you can’t tell if she’s looking at you or the person next to you. Jet black shine hair, perfect teeth and natural eyebrows woman pay for at a beauty salon.

She’s striking in appearance, athletically sculpted, men and woman can’t help but take notice.

The villagers gossiped; called her black sheep, the cursed one, the Donkey, the mulatto and rumors of her mother having an affair with a Black African, even though the gene test proved she came from the same family.

In primary school; teased, harassed, mobbed, discriminated for her big ears, full lips, big feet, big hands, couldn’t ride a bike and constantly injuring herself from her clumsiness.

At age 15 she was kicked off 3 football clubs for beating up boys who roughed her up on the pitch

At 17 she had 2 European swim titles in the 200m freestyle and 100m butterfly. She could out jump her opponents off the starting block by a meter

A black belt in Kung Fu, did a few seasonal stints as a Cage Fighter on the European tour until she was banned from the league for crippling the Romanian transgender opponent for kicking her in the crotch.

Her hands are long and slim, unusually strong; she can pick up a Volleyball with three fingers

On the Pro Woman’s Volleyball tour her lighting fast reactions, acrobatic aerial moves and fierce matches earned her the nick name “Chocolate Thunder”.  An American sports brand signed her and created the “CT” Logo. She’s a two time Olympian with medals.

A Buddhist with a master’s degree in Marine Biology

While in Manhattan on a swim suit cover shoot for an international fashion magazine, she was drugged and date raped by a Hip Hop star at a penthouse party

She’s still a little girl at heart; an angel trapped in a sleek chassy, single Mum, living with her Mum

She’s identifies as black, yet her family is light skinned European Mediterranean

She says “I come from a lost nowhere tribe”

And right now, as the Fab Four are suffering from her wrath on a plush yacht, she’s back on duty with her team.

There’s a pause in Police questioning, DJ calls out the Fab Four “Call your boss, I want to talk to him”.

The one with the cat scratch torn ear and ripped lips, rears his head “What the fuck? I don’t take orders from some stupid Lifeguard; I’m the lawyer here”.

 Chief Ryan grins…

“This yacht is now seized based on a sexual assault investigation and you four are under house arrest on this boat”

Ryan nods to the Police Woman;

“Do the press release, publish the suspects photos, post the security cam video online, TV interviews, we’re done here”

Pause, the Fab Four all look at each other.

What the Fab Four don’t know is; they slapped their ass right in the middle of a national security investigation sanctioned by the Prime minister and Security Cabinet tracking a cartel boss linked to two murders and a stash of ditched assets on the Island Nation he’s desperate to retrieve and everyone in the know is trying to find.

Lucky break for the investigation, unlucky for the Fab Four, standing in front of them are two former SAS counter intelligent officers on the hunt with carte blanche approval.

It’s kind of a blur for the two best mates at this point in their life; it’s all the same filth, dressed in nicer clothes today. And these two can’t tell if it’s a job, a sport, or both, but their dam good at it.

It goes deeper, DJ and Ryan know the voodoo crime boss from their Spec- Op days, he’s gone from warlord to upscale international thug.

Pause….

Nervous twitches, eye to eye glances, cologne stench body odor, clearing of throats, moans and groans of injured trying to find comfort.

The wounded lawyer ask for his phone

He puts the call on speaker

A man’s voice answers in a thick Germanic Alpine accent; “well, well, all good in Malta hope you didn’t scratch the boat” with a laugh.

DJ steps over and snatches the phone out of hand;

“Luca, it’s DJ”… Silence…

A stutter, a cough from the voice on other side;

“Ahh DJ what a surprise, long time, Ahh I hope all is well, do you still have those”?

DJ cuts him off;

“1.2 mill warrants on a four for one split plus convertible debentures on your toxic debt parked in a Vaduz Trust managed by a bunch of pension fund traders who still hate you’re ass”.

Pause…..

Luca, the now CEO of the Swiss Finance multinational, once a rival to DJ’s London trading operations. There’s allot of bad blood here, fierce rivalry from the past and some nasty secrets.

“ Ahh, Herr DJ, see here, we can always…”

DJ interrupts-

“ Your executive team is up on sex assault charges on my Lifeguard, I got a bag of free trading shares, the company yacht seized by Police, the Press is on this in 30 minutes, I need a pass code on that encrypted drive, or, those death spiral debentures come to life on the Swiss exchange, by noon tomorrow 50% of the market Cap is wiped out followed by a trading halt, margin calls, and your Swiss Miss will divorce you this time but I’m betting the Cartel does the hit first and she’ll collect the life insurance.

DJ hangs up…..

One of the Fab Four starts hyperventilating; grabbing his chest, the police medic moves in, another urinates himself.

The stench has migrated to a putrid stink on the aft deck.

Phone rings

“Give it up Luca, you lost the last trade against me, I own the swap here”!

“Look DJ we can settle this….”

DJ Hangs up….

Seconds tick bye like minutes…..

The Fab four have moved from excruciating pain to excruciating stress

Phone rings

“You sucked as trader then and suck as trader now”

“DJ-Pls”

Again DJ terminates the call

One of the Fab four breaks down in tears and lets out an “Oh my God”

Phone rings again;

“Fuck Off Luca Game Over, You Lost Again”!

DJ hangs up….

Seconds turn to silent minutes, one of Fab Four vomits on him self

Chief Ryan is smiling, picking his nose, the Police woman has a kinda revenge smirk

And then, the unexpected, the Yacht emergency Satellite phone buzzes

DJ moves to the helm and puts the call on intercom

Its Luca’s wife Francesca, she speaks a language no one understands; DJ smiles and responds.

They’re speaking Romansch, DJ speaks fluently with a dialect of upper Rhine Alps, with a bit of an Italian role, she with a hint of a romantic French accent. It’s one of the original Roman languages of old. Some say it’s a Klan, a relic of a mystery stricken from the Holy Roman Empire archives.

It’s a pleasant dialog with greetings laughs and giggles. Her voice is sultry, confident, smooth, low, yet carries clearly through the intercom.

DJ scribbles the flash drive pass code and hands it to Ryan

As the conversation and pleasantries continue, Chief Ryan can only pick out a few words of the ancient language from his familiarity with some Latin.

He’s surprised to hear the word “Pratap” The nemesis of the Counter Intel days in SAS Spec Op’s, the mystery ghost cartel boss of the present.

Then he thinks he hears a few words of; what Luca has done to Grand Pap-Pa’s bank (?)

But for sure Chief Ryan understood the last bit;

“Kind regards to your wife Portia, if she ever discards you, I need a captain and some private Sailing lessons on my yacht in Côte d'Azur ”

Followed with a lusty female giggle with a sigh, a Tschau and a hint of a muffled smooch kiss.

Chief Ryan shakes his head with a smile, points a finger at his best mate

“Did you ? At one time? Back in the day?”

DJ rolls his eyes with a grin “We’ll talk later mate”

As he walks over to the Fab Four, hand-up, middle finger extended

“Bank this one, you’re all ghost of the past now”

DJ high fives the Police team, “I gotta get back to my crew”.

3 Weeks Later:

The Sleek pearl cigarette marine machine is docked in Abu Dhabi next to the Emir

Luca is reported missing while swimming naked at night with his Moscow mistress in Lago Lugano, one of Switzerland’s deepest lakes on the Italian boarder.

A private courier hand delivers a gift box to Gabby with a personal hand written letter of several pages from Francesca, now Executive Chairwoman of the Board.

The contents of which is still a mystery

After reading that letter, Gabby went to church in the middle of the night, lit candles and cried alone till dawn. She told DJ’s wife she belongs now, to a kind of sisterhood.

And thus a soul of a cursed Muse that thought she lived in shame only to find a distance sister soulmate muse that survived the same.

A rescue of the soul for the rescuer....