I finally prodded enough that Timothy relented and told me the day’s activity. I’d figured we were going out on a boat, but whale watching! The heavy coats and all the other stuff made sense then and so did the binoculars and cameras.
I was by that time, practically jumping up and down. I’d always wanted to go whale watching, and San Diego was supposed to be one of the best locations for it. The water was warm and so whales fed right next to the coastline. I’d heard that we could get close to the giants, close enough that we could see their fins and blowholes, and maybe even a baby or two!
We exited the hotel with no jerkface attempting to prey on us, acting exactly like one of the huge cats at the zoo or those evil-looking sharks at Seaworld. Not seeing Mr. Peters in attendance was super good news, and all three guys grinned with cocky smiles. I remembered the invading horde of reporters the day before and hoped that all the media would now leave us alone.
The same chauffeur and limo were waiting for us in front of the grand hotel entryway. We took our seats on the lemon-smelling leather seats and sat back in comfort. The chauffeur had provided a thermos of coffee for us, but I was remembering that we’d soon be out on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I decided not to drink anything at all, not even the water Timothy was pushing at me.
Everything was a streamline to the pier. No traffic at all. In minutes, we were climbing out of the limo to salty air, the smell of fish, and countless seagulls shrieking about their hunger for discarded sandwiches.
****
“Gray whales, humpbacks, blue whales, fin whales, orcas, and dolphins are all possibilities for today,” Captain Joe told us after we’d clambered onto his vessel. Captain Joe’s gruff voice was filled with pride as he informed us about the forty-nine foot long vessel that he called a yacht. Knowing zip about boats, I took his word for it. Frankly. I didn’t know the difference between a boat, a ship, a vessel, and all the in-betweens, only that they all hopefully floated on the ocean waves, and the fact that sometimes some of them propelled people forward with motors that stank of gasoline.
Captain Joe went on to brag about how fast his yacht could go, but since he told us in knots, he might as well have been speaking in Greek. Terry nodded sagely, as if he, also, was conversant in boat language. When Terry asked a question about the yacht’s restoration, Timothy gave the bodyguard a look, which was supposed to remind him that he was on a job, not acting as a tourist.