The Coast Guard officer beside her sighed deeply, like a man who had seen one too many idiots in his career. "Ma'am, you are being detained for unauthorized vessel use, reckless endangerment, and failure to comply with maritime regulations."
Karen gasped as if he'd accused her of treason. But even then, handcuffed, embarrassed, surrounded by witnesses, she somehow still believed she could talk her way out of this. She twisted toward her husband—wait, no, toward me, eyes pleading. "You're not going to press charges, right?"
I looked at Seabreeze: dented, scratched, humiliated. Then I looked at the woman who caused it all, and for the first time that morning, I actually smiled.
Before I could answer Karen's frantic question, the Coast Guard officers guided her toward the patrol boat, her feet shuffling awkwardly on the deck as she fought against the handcuffs like they were an insult to her dignity. Her friends huddled on the opposite side of Seabreeze, whispering urgently to each other, their earlier excitement replaced by a fear that suggested they were suddenly realizing, Oh, this isn't fun anymore.
Jim zoomed in on her face with his phone. "This is golden. I'm framing this. Christmas cards."
I elbowed him lightly. "Jim, for once in your life, maybe don't antagonize her."
He shrugged. "She already hates me. I'm just adding spice."
Meanwhile, Karen was mid-tantrum, yelling at the Coast Guard like they were customer service employees inconveniencing her shopping experience. "You can't arrest me! I'm on an HOA-approved outing!"
One of the officers raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, HOAs don't govern maritime law."
Karen scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. Well, she tried to flip it, but with her hands cuffed behind her, it just made her wobble like a disgruntled flamingo. "They should! If they did, this wouldn't be happening."
Jim laughed under his breath. "She's arguing jurisdiction with the Coast Guard. I think she's reached a new level."
I watched, torn between fury and disbelief. I had seen Karen throw fits before—at HOA meetings, at neighbors who parked half an inch over the property line, at dogs who dared to bark in her presence—but I had never witnessed a full meltdown on federal waters.
Her friends, to their credit, gingerly approached me once the officers had secured her. "Um, we didn't know she wasn't allowed to use your boat," one said, avoiding eye contact.
I blinked. "How would she have been allowed?"
"Well, she said she had your permission."
"Of course she did."
The other friend piped in, "We thought this was like a neighborhood sharing program."
Jim snorted. "It's not a library. You don't just check out a boat for girls' day."
They instantly shrank, clearly wanting to vanish into the fibers of the dock. I almost felt bad for them; they were clueless, not malicious. But Karen? No. Karen knew exactly what she was doing.
One of the officers approached me after escorting Karen onto their patrol vessel. "Sir, we need you to confirm. Did this woman have your permission to operate your vessel?"
"Absolutely not."
Karen shrieked from behind the officer. "Oh my god, yes, he did! He said I could use it anytime!"
I stared at her. "That never happened."
She jerked her head in my direction, eyes wide with betrayal, like I had wronged her. "You said it with your eyes."
Jim wheezed beside me. "Bro, she just said you gave permission with your eyes. I can't breathe."
The officer didn't even flinch. "Ma'am, that is not considered legal consent."
"Yes, it is," she insisted. "In the HOA handbook, it says—"
"This isn't governed by your HOA," he repeated, far more patiently than she deserved.
Karen gasped, "Well, it should be."
At this rate, the man deserved a raise.
Two more officers boarded Seabreeze to assess the damage. One inspected the dented hull and shook his head sympathetically. "Looks like a hard impact. You'll need repair work. We'll document everything for your insurance claim."
My stomach twisted. Every scratch felt like someone had keyed a car I'd spent years restoring. And I had restored Seabreeze with my own hands: sanding, polishing, installing upgrades, painting the trim. She was more than a boat; she was sweat, weekends, pride.
Karen saw the look on my face and had the audacity to say, "Relax. It's just cosmetic."
I snapped, "Cosmetic? You crashed my boat into a buoy because you can't tell the throttle from a toaster."
Karen gasped like I'd slapped her. "You are being so dramatic."
Jim whispered, "Dude, your patience lasted longer than I expected."
The officer beside me cleared his throat. "Sir, would you like to accompany us as we process her detainment?"
Before I answered, Karen seized her last lifeline. Her husband, Todd, red-faced and exhausted, arrived at the marina at a jog. He looked like a man whose soul had been slowly drained by years of HOA drama, especially the variety powered by his own wife.
"Oh, no," he muttered when he saw her handcuffed on the Coast Guard boat. "Karen, what did you do?"
She immediately perked up as if he were her personal lawyer. "Todd, tell them! Tell them I'm allowed to use the boat!"
His shoulders sagged. "Karen, were you allowed to use the boat?"
"Yes! With his eyes!"
Jim collapsed onto the dock, laughing.
Todd closed his eyes. "Karen, sweetheart, that is not a thing."
Karen gasped again. "Whose side are you on?"
Todd gestured helplessly at me. "I'm on the side of the guy whose boat you stole."
"Borrowed!" she screamed so loudly a flock of seagulls took flight. Even her friends backed away like they were afraid she might explode.
Todd rubbed his temples. "Karen, you can't borrow a boat without asking."
"Yes, I can! I knew he'd say no, so asking would have been pointless."
The officer beside her said flatly, "Ma'am, that is a confession."
Karen's jaw dropped.